1. |
Castle Frank
02:35
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Castle Frank
The needles don’t matter,
Cover them with a blanket.
Open our meagre spread
At the end of Parliament.
Squatters watch nearby,
Summoning belongings
Thinking we’re the blue and white.
We ignore it.
All of it.
Until we can’t.
And we regret that we forced ourselves to forget that this matters.
The subways don’t matter,
Cover them with our speech.
Endless, crooked chatter,
Drowns out the screeching wheels.
The train stops, taps insistent morse,
Endless telegraphs of doors.
We enter hallways so easily,
But the push makes it harder to leave.
We ignore it.
All of it.
Until we can’t.
And we regret that we forced ourselves to forget...
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2. |
Ketones
04:06
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I float between guests,
Unerringly self-obsessed.
The mic’s filled with yesterday’s breath—
That acetone air splitting what I said
And what I really meant.
They should want to sing.
I have overstayed my welcome,
What do I become when you plug your ears and hum?
We both perform confidentiality,
Written out on scripts, scanned for slips,
Over the course of a million me’s
Reading a million duplicate sheets.
I see the walls behind my guest,
I reach toward his gulping neck,
Through his skin and empty veins,
Until I stop the wind beneath my hands.
Forget it.
One thousand cars and living rooms
Go quiet at the same time.
I feel the hush as if I’m listening at the same time.
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3. |
Rip, Awake
04:26
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When Rip wakes up he’ll be nervous.
A lot has changed; he’s been out of service.
The Bacchic nights are long gone,
And these red-eyed mornings go on too long.
My eyes and mind are always closed,
And my actions always posed.
Our imaginations were poisoned,
While he tripped away from our voices.
And when he said that I wanted my dreams back.
I’d settle for nightmares, to see anything.
When Rip wakes up he’ll be anxious.
A lot is ruined; he’s been dead to us.
Those orphic nights are long gone,
And these hellish mornings go on too long,
And when he said that I wanted my dreams back.
I’d settle for nightmares, to see anything.
When Rip wakes up he’ll be toxic.
We should probably know how to stop this.
He’ll have more than he needs, never giving a cent.
And he’ll rise through the ranks of the public servants,
Giving speech after speech about nothing but threats,
Telling those who fuck and pray wrong they should fret.
I’d settle for nightmares, to see anything.
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4. |
All Printed Trash
03:29
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Pick beneath your nails.
Bite and eat your cuticles,
The fraying ends of your skin,
The scattered proof you’re nervous.
The purr gets louder every minute;
It sizzles in your stomach,
The fear I’ve felt this all before.
You’re tired of the tour
Of my stations of anxieties,
Long silences and lost pieties.
The world keeps turning.
This hourglass we’re living
Feels more like a desert when you’re living in it.
Standing in line for the train to the airport,
I can only wonder what you’re scared for.
If I leave, I hope I can come back,
That there’s no permanent lack
Of love on account of choices,
I don’t want to feel consequence.
We never had any kids.
We only share a few friends.
And I can afford to lose them.
Maybe my hands can get handsome again.
Maybe I’ll tame my wild skin.
Maybe then these stubby fingers
Could write you a letter—
A chicken-scratch story you’ve already told better.
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5. |
Misty
04:51
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You’ll live longer than me,
Your organs alone aren’t busied
With healing themselves every morning.
I’ll be beyond medicine,
In one year or sixty.
I promised different outcomes,
When half-asleep or drunk.
My future’s getting misty.
I can’t escape the race,
Or the slowing pace of my parts,
Following the heat, day-in day-out.
Weigh in and weigh out and ask yourself,
Am I worth your broken heart?
Supine with dirt in my nails,
Nightly with mud on my shoes,
I stare at dusky, stucco mountains
Absorbed in endless counting.
How will I know you’re awake?
Your sleeping face is turned away
From the winter in the window,
To the picture of a widow.
What happens when you wake up,
Scramble up to hands and knees,
And turn to see the mattress top,
And indented, vacant peace?
You’ll live longer than me,
My future’s getting misty.
I will crack under the weight of sleep,
You can see the plates move inside me.
I will fade from you like a picture left
Outside for far too long,
With the sunlight beaming on and on,
Erasing all of the evidence
It made at the beginning.
But I will never know,
And we will never know,
If I am worth your broken heart.
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6. |
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There was always a lot to worry about.
We didn’t care much about politics
Now it’s all that we talk about
Since we’re living hand to mouth.
There was always a lot to fret about.
We didn’t care much about starving.
To look like we didn’t care about everything.
We’ve come to expect anything.
There’s a reason why we always look better
In pictures taken in summer weather.
There were always enough problems.
We never dreaded the approach of death,
We fell asleep under plane-less skies.
We walked slowly under streetlights.
We kissed in scar-less buildings.
We were safe, patient, and unwilling.
To look like we didn’t care about everything.
We’ve come to expect anything.
There’s a reason why we always look better
In pictures taken in summer weather.
The world is made of stages,
And we’re playing our parts.
This script is low on pages,
And this matte painting art,
And these fickle characters
Don’t speak to your heart,
Because they’ve come to expect everything.
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7. |
I Woke up with a Leg
04:04
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I woke up with a leg,
My body was whole again.
I sat up in bed
And could talk to my friends.
They never came home in lonely boxes,
Template letters filled with names.
We visit, drink coffee,
And shit-talk our families.
I woke up with a leg.
My bones were whole again.
Two knees, two feet, two shins –
I could walk to take a piss.
The young man, grinning on my nightstand,
Didn’t mock me
With those shining, un-chipped teeth.
With those pores chafed and scrubbed
Of all the dirty hopes of new adults.
But I cannot stand.
And I can’t stand getting up.
And if I got myself up again
I’d only stumble back to bed.
And you’d wait until my eyes were thin
And you’d kiss the blood off of my head.
And I will never take you away,
Or sweep you off your feet.
And I would love to see you dance,
Even if it’s not with me.
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8. |
Letterless
03:11
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To all the dogs with docked tails,
Licking souring stale ale
Off the floor by the door
While your owner’s passed out:
It’s mid-morning and you deserve better.
To all the scarred squirrels,
Foraging for your meals
In the trash by the only ash tree
Left from your family’s world:
It’s afternoon and you deserve more.
To all the trapped mice,
Caught stealing scraps and rice,
Just outside the walls
That you huddled in for warmth,
It’s evening and you should have another day.
I am overwhelmed by sympathy,
While I ruin everything.
I’m well-meaning, but what does that mean?
This is the most important I can be.
Why is it such a good thing
To have someone watching over me?
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9. |
VCR
05:50
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A baggy jacket, expired film subscriptions,
Drawers of birthday cards and a phone full of messages,
CDs I won’t listen to, ignored books, used and new,
Tables of think pieces that I never read through—
The remnants of my parents’ efforts to reach out,
Objects in search of the right words to shout.
I can’t let them in. It’s not them.
I can’t let anybody in.
You always thought I was funny,
But I never was much fun.
I cannot climb to the landing,
All courage gets is a bad ending.
I’ve got my basement, my life,
An allotment of lights.
A ten-year-old mattress,
A box of failed stress tests,
A corner where a mirror leans,
Only sporadically cleaned.
It shows me constantly
Distressed and half-dressed.
Nothing feels like it fits.
I’ve seen the light flood the stairs,
And Arbogast falling backward forever.
The ceiling closed around him.
My eyes will not leave the rushing floor,
I can’t look away, but I can’t watch anymore.
I feel the slits in the VCR,
Where my mom taped ER,
She recorded shows for me.
We’d sit together some weeks,
And watch yesterday’s scenes.
Everything felt utopian.
Everything feels real again.
I can’t let you in. It’s not you.
I can’t let anybody in.
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10. |
Warm Anywhere
02:59
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A hundred feet long in their world,
My walls teem with tails.
I hear them at night, telling legends
Of parlour expeditions.
I wonder if you hear them too,
Squeaking joy in your ears,
So happy to be warm anywhere.
Solving puzzles of steel wool and wire.
I would die if I had to live like them.
Birds hush the floating woods,
Cars rush on gravel roads,
Snakes push through moving grass.
[Traps] crush their glassy backs.
I devolve in homely anger,
They are water in my hands,
I would die if I had to live like them.
My house won’t go quiet,
But I’ll wait for the silence,
Feel the brailed wall in my sightlessness,
I wonder if you hear me too,
Speaking whys in your years,
So happy to be warm anywhere.
Solving puzzles of skin, breath, and hair.
I would die if I had to live like them.
They are water in my hands,
I would die if I had to live like them.
I’m so happy to be warm anywhere.
I am water in your hands.
I would die if I had to live like them.
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Outer Rooms Ontario
A generally well-appreciated band from Ontario.
Outer Rooms recommends:
Terrorista's first EP, the follow up to their colour tape series, is the culmination of their punchy, thoughtful, and emotional songwriting that exploded out of Pink Tape.
go to album
The 2016 follow up to their debut record is a remarkable and cathartic listen. Written after the passing of Jacob's father, Huge Cosmic provide a powerful EP highlighting their post-hardcore prowess.
go to albumIf you like Outer Rooms, you may also like:
With cameos from major players from the Toronto indie music scene, Breeze's “Only Up” is a playful mix of shoegaze, Britpop, and disco.
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Ottawa duo Paragon Cause craft songs that occupy the space between goth and dream pop, with sublime melodies drifting in guitar haze.
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Another Side of The Seams
by The Seams
The Seams' jangly pop is full of lovely melodic twists and elegant turns-of-phrases delineating the quotidian details of love and romance.
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Delightful, freewheeling noise pop where clouds of guitar encircle heavenly, far-off vocals.
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