1. |
(a flash of dark)
04:36
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this is not an apology
this is a reckoning
i think you can relate
in a wash of light I saw my beating chest when I was five
crying on the stairwell
kicking, screaming
cursing all the stripes my brother bore
i'll never forget them
this is not an emergency
this is a false alarm
the sweat that coats my brow is just
a simple condensation
for lack of a better term
and with a flash of dark he bore down with his fists
and crumbling, my spirit
formed into a husk of dirty maple wood
and studded crown of tears
i'll always forgive him
this is not a simple question
this is an ultimatum
formed on battered lips
and from the tongues of children
searching in a dark room for the light switch
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2. |
silence
04:20
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sing to me with your last breath
and I will catch it in my palm
and I will lock it in the closet
to let it haunt me through the drywall
sing through static lines and feedback
let your words hold back the noise
and I will write them on scrap paper
and I will tape them to my skin
I washed the tar out from my fingers
I spilt the blood out of my lungs
I bought an apartment in the city
so the sirens would drown out the howls when the demons come
sing to me your every secret
serenade me with your fears
scream your faults through sonic pathways
tell me what I want to hear
but the silence is killing me
and the silence is deafening
oh the silence is killing me
and the silence is deafening
sing to me with your last breath...
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3. |
winter
04:25
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you are black lace and dead roses
I am the snow that coats your car
your car
I dont know how I should handle this
you cant tell if you should just defrost
defrost
you said I smelled like winter
my wax frame melted on your bedroom floor
your floor
scrape me up with your fingertips
reconstitute my form in shards
in shards
consume this tender night with pleasantries
leave your socks on the bedroom floor
you said I smelled like winter
you turn to rust and your car wont start
I dont know how I should handle this
we are objects here impermanent
you said I smelled like winter
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4. |
push
04:15
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Im pushing all of my weight
into your television eyes
the pulsing pixels
spreading out across my hands
and you'll be sipping your cup of cherry coffee
trying not to let me change the channel
or disrupt your plan
we'll sit here motionless and
stare out the window
watching cars and seagulls dipping down
to catch their daily bread
I will try hard to provide an honest answer
as to why I am still living
with this bandage on my head
I am bad at moving on but I can try to if I have to
and I can tell by the flush that coats your cheeks
im either getting by just fine or
spitting metal into plugs
and you are oh so nice
you'll never tell me if im dressed to kill
or if my court's too scared to say im naked
I am bad at moving on but if you're asking i'll indulge you
I really wish this could have happened at a better time
I'm pushing all of my weight
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5. |
theory
03:10
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I feel very awful about loving anyone
I feel really awkward and awful about loving anyone
Sometimes I feel like im not the only one
We're all really fed up and tired of loving anyone
Whenever I fall in love I become very selfish
yeah I think that falling in love might make me very selfish
The theory books never said it would be like this
in the structure of signs where I live there's no room to be selfish
and the people I love they dont always love me back
yeah sometimes the people I love they dont love me back
and the worst part of all is there's nothing wrong with that
yeah sometimes the people you love they just dont love you back
and im tired of singing about love all the time
yeah im real sick and tired of everyone singing about love all the time
and saying it out loud might be just what we need to feel fine
cause i'm real fucking tired of singing about love all the time
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6. |
//
01:28
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I’m calling to collect, concede concern,
exploit and disregard apologies.
There are no sorries left, no water fetched,
no tumbling after broken crowns, and down
these hills I’ll plummet, still contrite, or limp,
or lying all the way. The debt remains,
a debt these limbs will leave unpaid again.
Instead, attrition tenders credit’s claims,
in tendon and in spid’ring bones, the wrist,
in fingers’ sins, the noiseless sex of dirt,
or cartilage. You owe me for my sweat,
and for the cells you’ve stolen scratching. A
sincerely untold doubt is written there,
in epithelial loss and potting soil,
in unstill space, still air still being filled
with color and your hips’ conjecture still
so absolute, and killed—so fucking dead.
With tendons sore (and aching to remind:
the mind is only strong because the hand
can bear the force), I told you I did not
believe in falling. Maybe I believe
in jumping; maybe I believe in sounds
of bodies splattering upon the ground.
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7. |
shadow
02:45
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Too much noise
covering my room with jagged lines and pallid figures
extending towards my bed
I dont know
if the sleep is worth the cold sweats
I dont know
if the tv's ever going to turn off
your shadow
reminds me
how I can't
keep my composure
too much void
all these goddamn hipsters yelling about modernism
I can't even get my back fixed
I dont know
if your meta-narrative is getting useless
I dont know
if I will ever get my back fixed
their shadow
reminds me
that I am
a boring poser
too much smoke
from the cigarettes and factories
it makes me want to choke
but the headlights shining through it look like hope
I dont know
if i'll see you in a year or three or nope
I dont know
how to deal with all this fucking smoke
the shadow
reminds me
that I am
so goddamn tired
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8. |
martyr
04:25
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I went to the protest today
in red square we gathered to spar with our fate
in the static of megaphone roar they relate
how they privilege should not lead to hate
and I hung my weary head in shame
cause I know in my heart im just as much to blame
for the misguided yelping of white college kids
who are just tryin to make heard their names
I dont think that they know this is wrong
that the chains of oppression they favor the strong
and the students who plead “let us love lets be free”
they dont get that its been way too long
as we marched down the street we held hands
put our hope in our backpacks and made our demands
but then when it came to confronting the man
we found it was hard just to stand
as the tension grew out to a head
they said go home to bed or try prison instead
the futon revolution was quickly shot dead
and the scared little kids went to bed
and the usual martys hung back
shook their heads at the children stuck blank in their tracks
same story as always, the protest is fun
til the gun's pointed into your back
we were all just trying to help
we said we just wanted to help
we swore on our heads we would help
but we're always just trying to help
and it isnt the help that they need
oh its never the help that they need
its the solemn support that they need
and we're too goddamn loud
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9. |
sleep
04:27
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listen up
I need you to quiet down
so I can get some rest
so I can get some rest
listen up
I need you to settle down
so I can clear my head
so I can clear my head
listen up
I need you to calm down
so I can go to bed
so I can go to bed
listen up
I need you to stick around
so I can hear your breath
so I can get some rest
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10. |
attack
05:42
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darling, do you feel the water closing in over our heads
darling, can you believe that in two minutes we'll be dead?
brother, can you imagine the monsters and demons that we live in
and brother, if the sinner repents, oh if the sinner repents
is there still a sin?
lover, do you recall the last refrain I spoke to you?
lover, do you remember the pauses and syllables that formed into a pleasant tune?
And father, what will it take for me to explain myself to you?
And father, I am no prodigal son, no I am nothing, I am no one.
On new year's eve
we cracked a bottle or two of cheap champagne
Our rosy cheeks
flushed with fear from the knowing glances of who remained
Our final prayer
to all the friends we loved and lost to drugs and bad attitudes
Our table set
to welcome the dark lord and serve him with all we had to lose
Sometimes I cry
because the memories are too much for me to take
Sometimes I cry
because these lungs are slowly setting up to break
Sometimes I cry
and the nervous high sets in that comes before the shakes
Sometimes I cry
as I remind myself no to mourn before the wake
A toast! A toast!
To all our immortal parties, tomorrow or otherwise!
A toast!
That we will drown these evil thoughts that live behind our eyes!
A toast!
To be remembered in laughter and tears and shards of glass!
A toast!
That we may learn to move on and lift off the shackles of the past!
On new year's eve
we prepared our attack on the darkness we'd fought for way too long
On new year's eve
we prepared our song for all the beautiful things we've lost
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11. |
(a wash of light)
04:47
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this is not a sad story
this is the truth
the songs I write are just
a glorified complaint about the weather
for lack of a better term
this is not a happy ending
this is the end
it might be glad, it might be mad its just
the way that things are going
and that's just the way things are
you see my friends, we'll always have some scars
sing to me your final song
and I will teach it to every crowd
and we will sing it every word
and we will always sing too loud
one day i'll quit smoking cigarettes
one day i'll learn how to love
one day you'll learn to find happiness
and you will sing down from above
a flash of dark will not define me
in a wash of light i'll make my mark
a flash of dark will not define us
with a wash of light we'll be the spark
a flash of dark won't be our story
in a wash of light we'll save our names
a flash of dark will try to kill us
but a wash of light will be our grave
sing to me your final song...
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Jon, the Archivist Worcester, Massachusetts
Jon the Archivist lives in Worcester, MA, and this is the sound of him screaming at nothing.
Honest Face Records
Jon, the Archivist recommends:
I Know Better Now EP
by Oklahoma Car Crash
Catchy acoustic posi vibes from my pal Nat. They know how to write really rad hooks with a hefty emotional kick.
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supported by 4 fans who also own “a flash of dark // a wash of light”
I love that I always calls me back to it.
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Wry songs from this Washington artist that recall the homespun charm of early Mountain Goats.
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Forever Only Idaho
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Big, strummy songs that recall the heart-on-sleeve earnestness and lo-fi glory of early Mountain Goats.
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JESSICA's second album was recorded live solely with vocals and piano.
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Australian singer Jessica tempers ornate baroque folk with stark gothic poetry, infusing sadcore with transcendent sensibilities.
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