suburban streetwalker & other tragedies

by english scissors

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about

this is an album i did in the summer of 2013. i recorded it in my bedroom, usually on a nocturnal schedule. this album means a lot of different things to me that aren't found on the previous two eps. musically, i think it's a lot less ambitious and probably more accessible to people. there is the obvious addition of more instrumentation—notably everything that isn't voice or guitar (that's all I used before). i spent many hours this summer listening to bands like joy division, and the jesus and mary chain, and flaming lips, and the knife, and the books, and sonic youth. i also spent many hours listening/reading the lyrics of belle & sebastian, and bob dylan, and jens lekman, and morrissey, and the mountain goats, and silver jews. (i don't think it make sense to talk about the album without mentioning everyone i'm stealing from). in a lot of ways, this album is about me, i think all the songs are from my point of view, at least, but i think there are enough people that are either currently in these situations or have been in these situations that you might understand. you know how nietzsche says "a nihilist is a man who judges of the world as it is that it ought not to be, and of the world as it ought to be that it does not exist[...]the pathos of 'in vain' is the nihilists' pathos — at the same time, as pathos, an inconsistency on the part of the nihilists." well that may have sounded very appealing at many moments in the past year. this album was for me and attempt at coping with some metaphysical predicaments i had found myself in. i hope this doesn't come off self-righteous.

credits

released October 15, 2013

written, performed, produced, mixed, edited, and conceptualized by: nicolas mertens
lyric revisions by: simone hyttinen, victoria bigliardi
album cover by: arezu sama
photography: heather wilson
spiritual guidance/mgmt: candice urech
instruments/equipment on this album: fender telecaster standard, taylor 113e, gibson standard sg, vox ac30, zt lunchbox, m-audio oxygen 49, ableton live 8, garageband, audio techinica microphones, boss phaser, loop station and delay; behringer tuner, way huge swollen pickle jumbo fuzz, z-vex lo-fi junky, line 6 verbzilla, akai midi controller, cb drums, various drum machines, hohner blues harp, &c.

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about

english scissors Toronto, Ontario

musician and student of philosophy/comparative literature in toronto, ontario, canada—hopeless in all efforts.

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Track Name: tell the kids to look at me now
you can lie in my bed and try to convince yourself
that any kiss from means something more than it is

the things i tend to enjoy have such destructive tendencies
because what i imagine is your pretty face can’t stand to look at me

tell the kids to look at me now

i must enjoy the mild cliché of feeling sorry for myself
because i end up doing such when my reflection is around

i thought about which way of killing myself
would look best in the petty suburban paper

tell the kids to look at me now
Track Name: meet me where the trees don't grow
i’ve fleeted away
living between shades of grey
and i’m looking for a god
to show me something objective

treading in bare-feet
scars stain skin with defeat
from a time i thought i was with you
and now thoughts hang
like suburban christmas lights in july

so meet me where the trees don’t grow
sit with me for a while
where the trees don’t grow

so kiss me
when i can’t see the sun shine
the sun shines so happy;
burning like a sadist

i’ve been looking for you
you know more than i do
that’s why i bring a switchblade
when you sneak up behind me

so meet me where the trees don’t grow
sit with me for a while
where the trees don’t grow
Track Name: sovereignty
we filled up our soda cans with whiskey
until it tastes a little more like honesty
i know i haven’t been one to talk lately

o
how much do you want me to be?
(how much do you want me to be?)
are you against buying a human being

i spend last week waiting for a paycheck
because there’s nothing else to in town
but die
we’ll move out to the city
and lay around all day

o
i haven’t dreamt for weeks
(i haven’t dreamt for weeks)
i drink coffee to late in the evening
Track Name: you've changed
you’ve changed
you’ve changed
you’ve changed
you’ve changed
you’ve changed
you’ve changed
all you ever want to is breathe
all you ever want to is sleep
you’ve changed
you’ve changed
when’s the last time you smiled for yourself
when’s the last time you breathed for yourself
when’s the last time you thought for yourself
you forgot to be a pacifist towards yourself
you’ve changed
you’ve changed
you’ve changed
what does joyce have to say to you now
what does tolstoy have to say to you now
what does heidegger say to you now
what does god say to you now
you’ve changed
you’ve changed
you’ve changed
you’ve changed
Track Name: it's hard to tell if it was real
it’s hard to tell if it was real
i saw your lips on his cheek

it’s hard to tell if it was real
when i left a year ago i wasn’t sure

it’s hard to tell if it was real
i don’t dream anymore and that might explain

it’s hard to tell if it was real
i wake up in the afternoon

it’s hard to tell if it was real
when i dream at night
my teeth fall out of my mouth
and onto the sidewalk outside of your door

it’s hard to tell if it was real
if it was might understand
Track Name: i don't do anything anymore
just try and forget about her
breath in the sun for a while
before it starts to rain
and we have to go inside again

do you want to meet after lunch today
my father's getting engaged you explained

if you have a moment let me know
i was feeling lonely so i thought i would check in
her messages explain:
"my arms are around my father, I'm sorry."

just try and forget about her
breath in the sun for a while
before it starts to rain
and we have to go inside again
Track Name: vignettes
in the comatose of being wide awake

behind your dark-framed glasses you have a complex smile

tonight the suburban kids set off fireworks outside

i hear you have a boyfriend now who’s everything i lack

find me in hospital waiting room half-asleep

i’ve stopped living for a while to give everyone a break

i think i’m moving on because when i was walking in the summer rain

i lit a smoke and i thought your face

and the wind blew

and the leaves were dancing
Track Name: he hopes for heaven but expects the worst
he hopes for heaven but expects the worst
his life of ration does little for his mind
when he fills a laundry bin with hand-me-downs
he wonders if the salvation army will be upset
with a worn-out sex pistols t-shirt
but the difference between faith and capital is
measured and defeats the exercise
perhaps his younger brother will grow into delayed trends
but O the big beaten jeans his little body will never need

if no one wants to listen to a failed entertainment
where does the restraint come from?
between his head and the microwave door
he imagines the insides feel the same
as he walks around all day with his head set to defrost
he doesn’t know what it is but he knows
it will catch up with him someday sooner than later
but he says hello to lucifer and asks him if he has a light

i was wondering if you needed someone to use
i’ve got nothing important on the books and no excuse
and if you needed a raincoat for the season
i could be your military jacket with mends in the sleeves
and if you needed a bed away from your parents
i could be your cheap memory-foam mattress
Track Name: holding onto the past
i was biking home from work
on a soaking wet bicycle
trees were verdant
and dripping from the rain
and it had just turned to dark
the fog was thick
and the light from passing cars
was intercepting the reflective pathway


and this is what i was listening to:





















and everything was beautiful for the first time
in what feels like a very long time
so come lay here,
and lie with me
the laundry hung on the line today
so it may reminisce of springtime
Track Name: malevolent bordeaux
a razor across your skin
like a paintbrush with watercolour
a creation with intent of closure
but when you look you find nothing
nothing but wishing for the past
the kind of past stings but feels better
than any sort of "present"
but if the colour you've painted
is black and blue than we can live like
malevolent portraits of each other in some gallery of souls
an exhibition of blades on the other's skin
and then we'll hang either alone of with the other's
blue blood running black on the skin
where your razor once laid