"And when the depression passes, we'll still be indigestible to the masses / My own disaster, youth and abandon is all that matters..."
The artfully dirty doo wop punk spiral of "S. Florist", by the enigmatic Canadian artist / or band The Playground Bullies, feels like 80's new wave, 90's post punk and 2000's revisionist indie rock all colliding together. I am loving the decay to the sound, there is something dystopian happening and while there is a sort of obvious The Strokes lean aesthetically, it feels like them if they were a discarded soda can stomped on. Maybe The Strokes as distilled through crust punk meets experimental Flaming Lips-esque indie or The Stooges or Misfits if they were into emo punk, ha. The genre blending is really beside the point but I appreciate the darkness, the melancholia that feels somehow endearing in an odd way, besides the lyrical content, especially the chorus speaks to me.
LYRICS
(She walked out of Christmas dinner)
Her feet are cold, boots too torn for the winter
Every mother's nightmare, a family walks by and the parents stare
They tell their daughter to look away, her and the kid were raised the same way
And when the depression passes, we'll still be indigestible to the masses
My own disaster, youth and abandon is all that matters
Don't try, it won't feel right
Roaches pool beneath her feet
Filled page, brittle rib cage
Can't afford the train ride home
Why now, why not tomorrow
The whole universe could fit in a day
The moon crawls across...
A family walks by and the parents stare
Her paintings are purposefully ugly, she became dirty as a listening child
Clutch the cross on her neck, an empty apartment is where she's her best
And when the depression passes, we'll still be indigestible to the masses
My own disaster, youth and abandon is all that matters
Don't try, it won't feel right
Roaches pool beneath her feet
Filled page, brittle rib cage
Can't afford the train ride home
Why now, why not tomorrow
The whole universe could fit in a day
The moon crawls across...
-Robb Donker Curtius
Her feet are cold, boots too torn for the winter
Every mother's nightmare, a family walks by and the parents stare
They tell their daughter to look away, her and the kid were raised the same way
And when the depression passes, we'll still be indigestible to the masses
My own disaster, youth and abandon is all that matters
Don't try, it won't feel right
Roaches pool beneath her feet
Filled page, brittle rib cage
Can't afford the train ride home
Why now, why not tomorrow
The whole universe could fit in a day
The moon crawls across...
A family walks by and the parents stare
Her paintings are purposefully ugly, she became dirty as a listening child
Clutch the cross on her neck, an empty apartment is where she's her best
And when the depression passes, we'll still be indigestible to the masses
My own disaster, youth and abandon is all that matters
Don't try, it won't feel right
Roaches pool beneath her feet
Filled page, brittle rib cage
Can't afford the train ride home
Why now, why not tomorrow
The whole universe could fit in a day
The moon crawls across...
-Robb Donker Curtius
THE FACTS AS WE KNOW THEM
https://open.spotify.com/track/16Xfvj4gyZUmmodKYGBLb5
No comments:
Post a Comment