Things I Produced

EPORKS TEASER FINAL_1.m4a

Produced by whoISTHEMETRO. (soundcloud.com/whoisthemetro)

Lyrics:

(Arison Cain)
If you wanted to see
something other than a scene,
you shouldn't stay here,
and if you thought you could be
another perfect machine,
you better stay clear.
If you want to be free,
you better step up to me,
better cut your heart open,
see how fast you can bleed.
If you wanted to see 
something other than a scene,
I wouldn't, oh, I wouldn't stay here.

(Spesh to Death)
You're in it for the long haul low ball.
Watch a road show
snowball into a folk song.
By the time the red sun dead, now a cold ball,
ten to one bet, every section of this weapon-infested,
pessimistic, wreck of a mess is now closed off.
Now no cops, all roped off.
Superstitious, dusting off the old gods.
Used to say we raised hell 'til the show stop.
Now it's like "Go before we run into a bunch of rogue robots,
hot off a hold up!" So what?
You might get gutted for your cold cuts.
Post apocalyptic, got to be dopeness.
So, this is that wrecked, warhead west coast shit?
Should have been left in the old school.
Wanna see a fascist fry? Better sign up.
Reboot, reload, revolt, rise up.

(Arison Cain)
If you wanted to see
something other than a scene,
you shouldn't stay here,
and if you thought you could be
another perfect machine,
you better stay clear.
If you want to be free,
you better step up to me,
better cut your heart open,
see how fast you can bleed.
If you wanted to see 
something other than a scene,
I wouldn't, oh, I wouldn't stay here.

Hopelessness and 
Soviet opiates by the ounce,
we've got copious amounts.
Where's your utopia now?

Reboot, reload, revolt, rise up.


Magnum Opus - Reboot

My new single, "The Love and the Volume" from my forthcoming album with the same name.

Produced and Engineered by David Bowick. Featuring performances by Arison Cain, David Bowick and Geoff Godfrey. Mixed by Matt Bobb at Matchstick Music and Mastered by Hans Dekline at Sound Bites Dog. Words and Music by Arison Cain. © 2014 Arison Cain.

The Love and the Volume

All songs written, performed, recorded, produced and mixed by David Bowick
Mastered by Hans Dekline at Sound Bites Dog
Additional vocals on “Finally Found You” by Vanessa Parr
Additional vocals on “The Way Back Home” and “On The Other Side” by Trey Broussard
Additional vocals on “Meet Tomorrow” by Lindsey Bullen and Trey Broussard
Additional vocals on “27 Days” by Lucas Carpente

Finally Found You

Vote for Freddy & Francine in the NewSong Competition: https://www.newsong-music.com/contest/west
(runs through 10/6/14).  Follow the link and find the video of Freddy & Francine performing "Knock Down My Door" to vote and help  them advance to the national finals THANK YOU!!! https://www.newsong-music.com/contest/west

Brownstone Alley

Like Genghis Khan

Spotify
https://open.spotify.com/artist/0rFHElzeddB9ymDjgpBENX

Apple Music
https://itunes.apple.com/jp/album/yume/id805520623

Bandcamp
http://music.botanicalhouse.net/album/dream-cd-2014
--------------------------------
from the album called "Yume".
Lyrics: Kaori Sakaibara
Music: Taiyo Someya
Arrangements: Minami Kitasono https://soundcloud.com/organalog

A都市の秋

I'm half a bottle deep 
and I'm asking myself for the answers 
to all the questions that are ringing in my head. 
Am I lost? Am I dead? 
I'm not ready to know. 

Will my brains ever work the same again, 
or have I forsaken them? 
I'm out to sea, I have to see 
just where the current has taken them. 

I'm capable of anything 
and nobody knows it but me. 

I've gotta do more than just land on my feet, 
get fucked up, go to bed, and repeat. 

There's another bottle interrupting 
the novel that I've been meaning to pen 
and it's impossible to make any headway 
when I'm wasting my head away. 
Leave it up to me, it's gonna be 
another chemical getaway. 

I'm capable of anything 
and nobody knows it but me. 

I've gotta do more than just land on my feet, 
get fucked up, go to bed, and repeat. 

I need to motivate myself 
before I decimate myself. 
I need to reason with myself. 
I'm on the verge of disaster, 
as far as I can tell. 

I've gotta do more than just land on my feet, 
get fucked up, go to bed, and repeat.

Anthem For The Unreasonable

Yeah, I eat words, om nom nom, Noam Chompsky. This the last days of Pink Floyd playing Pompeii. Put away the Pomade. I’m a Dapper Dan man. And our pompadours? Course they’re bigger than the damn amps. Get your damn, dirty ape hands off my tan kicks, or land in a planet of pain, sans limbs. Damage. Damage. Damage. More damage. So drunk don’t even know where the tour van is. So punk that I pretend that I know Danzig, like, “oh my god, ain’t that Patti Smith in a black lim’?” Ain’t that Magnum rapid attack shit orgasmic, underdogmatic, working class classics? Like, Dylan wants his verse back, ASAP, lasso, to regurgitate out his cracked throat, at his last show, to baby boomers booing through a hamlet of hash smoke. Dag, yo, Spesh is some kind of asshole. If you feel like Ted Danson, dancin’, this your anthem. Trip the light fantastic. Make a Makers Mark. Hark, mark my words. If we jump the shark, it’s gonna be on our terms. Lurking in a murdered out conversion van – turbo, Percocets, Klonopins, Diazepam, and channeling The Wicker Man - Nic Cage, world’s worst private dick, known to flip shit and spit take on a first date. How’d it get burned in the first place? Plus I’m hurling like Wolf Gang in that Earl tape off some bourbon, and I’m starved for attention like Star Burns, and err, I can’t remember how this verse goes, wait. 

What’s the hook, and when’s it gonna drop? 

I’m an argyle gargoyle wrapped in barbed wire with an armoire chock full of Charizard foil cards, drawn and quartered through a cornucopia of carnage, and embroiled in a boiler room brawl on an oil barge. And I’m Royal Tenenbaum, and I’m bombing at stand-up comedy to audiences yawning and lauding thoughts of embalming me, lobbing tomahawks and piranha comments anonymously. Hallmark of a goddamn good night, honestly. Vamanos in a compact Volvo, bumping Commodores “Brick House” to avoid the ever approaching zombie war. An oddity of enormous proportions - Zoidberg. Vile, and hiring Lionel Hutz as a lawyer. Rap’s Tom Sawyer, boisterous with no regard for poindexters who get pointedly hoisted by their own petard, and loyally deployed on a voyage into the dark. Missed their marks - Groucho, but no cigar. Outro with no guitar and I’m ‘bout to do open heart on an artery clogging harmony harder than Black Bart’s handlebars. Watch how we handle bars - with stamina and abandon. We’re a band apart. 

What’s the hook, and when’s it gonna drop?

Produced by Zef Bridges and David Bowick. 
Mixed and Mastered by Matthew Corey AKA Matty C. Beats. 

Magnum Opus - What's The Hook?

Will this be the year that I go flat broke? I hope you know that you’re my last hope. I’ve been trying to make a living by getting livid at rap shows, eating nothing but rations, spitting nothing but shrapnel, lying on my back listening to Fear of a Black Planet, and nodding along like I understand it. So, I vanished. I got so close, then got ghost, and watched my body wash up on the coves of both coasts. Chose to get thin – still there’s no room to stand up in. Naïve means being able to dream without an Ambien. A party means setting up shop outside an ambulance, and waiting for that goddamn handle to kick in. Off brand, ‘cause we can’t afford Bombay, just bottles of Andre, boomboxes and old rock tapes, or maybe some Tom Waits. Blood money prom dates. Poverty, hombre - if it ain’t honest, I’ll wait. Empty wallets? I’ll say! It’s a beautiful sight. Light a fifty if you don’t know what to do with your life. Close your bank account out. Cop a groove to the mic. Get poor. Get raw. Get frantic. Get nice. 

In for a penny, in for a pound. Spend your last dollar to this sound. Open your mouth wide and get loud. Get poor. Get down.

Believe it, holmes, this the year for leaving homes. Leaving grief alone to weep and piece by piece retrieving back your souls. We’re in a sad, sad state when the state don’t give a fuck about the minimum wage. We’re in a mad, mad world when we can keep up with Kardashians, but not the cartels. I ain’t got the answers, but you can be damn sure, I may be broke but I ain’t broken and I’m ‘bout to get poor. 

In for a penny, in for a pound. Spend your last dollar to this sound. Open your mouth wide and get loud. Get poor. Get down. In for a penny. In for a pound. Spend your last dollar to this sound. Get poor. Get down. 

No kidding, I stepped off the grid for one minute, now I got no option but to get poor. And I ain’t worth a damn, but a wall full of framed plans. Amen, eh, man? Get poor. No disrespect to those frozen, and lonely, and coping with seeing their kids have to get poor. This is not what this is. This is making a fist, not giving up, not giving a fuck ‘bout getting rich or getting blisters, getting all your chips and getting all in, not getting swallow up, screaming, calling out

Magnum Opus - Get Poor

seven inches. seven inches.
seven inches. seven inches.
seven inches. seven inches.
seven inches. seven inches.

once you see it coming you won't know what it is.
seven inches. seven inches.
we're demons slinging semen and we know where you live.
seven inches. seven inches.
here to fill your daughters up with whiskey and jizz.
seven inches. seven inches.
the nastycreeds are here and it's a seven inch split.
seven inches. seven inches.

we're on the a side. 
we're on the b side. 
we're on the seaside 
and we're out for a swim.

it tastes like key lime,
so make a bee line
down to the water
where the magic begins.

let's get a-squeezin'
and start to teasin'.
it stands to reason
that we're snorkeling trim.

this is the season
for nasty-pleasin'
it's time to take 
this vinyl for a spin.

once you see it coming you won't know what it is.
seven inches. seven inches.
we're demons slinging semen and we know where you live.
seven inches. seven inches.
here to fill your daughters up with whiskey and jizz.
seven inches. seven inches.
the nastycreeds are here and it's a seven inch split.
seven inches. seven inches.

The Seven Inch Split

Damage I've Done-RaggedMag

2005 - WOAH

from the debut EP "Feel What U Want 2"

Feel What U Want 2

WOAH

The first single off of the upcoming EP. 
flavors.me/dayjobmusic
Also on iTunes and Spotify
Scroll down for lyrics...

Indecent
by Dayjob

VI
Is it you?
Cause it's not me...
Religion is easy to believe if you're gone
A moment please
I wanna be indecent there's just no reason 
I see you reverse

VII
Is it you
Cause I'm not free
I come with directions, many intersections
Affection
Don't you agree?
Won't you agree?

REFRAIN
I wanna be indecent and there's no reason
And there's no reason for that

VIII
It's who ya know 
And what ya say
It's who you love
And who ya save
It's who ya might might
It's who ya don't don't 
It's who ya kiss kiss
And who you won't won't

VIV
Is it true?
It seems to be...
Simple hesitation
With beauty body liber-iter-ation
Show your world to me
Show your girl to me

REFRAIN
I wanna be indecent and there's no reason
And there's no reason for that
 
BREAK

(Dayjob)
Occupy wall street
'latio swap meet
Forty two feet deep
Blow top tasty
Bobs big boy
Bedroom toy
Side of Mac and cheese
Ya bacon so greasy
Can I get a mistress
Can I get a witness
I'm Gunna pop some muh fuckin serious business
Kinda wanna hit this
Don't wan a miss this
Tho I know what you enjoy

You slip the finger
A scent at lingers
Master I bring you
On and on

Sexual binger
Lateral slinger
Rodeo ranger
Perfect stranger 

(David)
Indecency comes easily 
when you’re looking at me so sexily
All the push and pull has got me full 
I’m needing my release
Walking around like I play pretend 
but all those rules of the heart you could start to bend
And twist ya turn and flip and curl every
Which way that you want to girl

I don’t know if you care 
shit I don’t know if I’d dare
but if we throw this on the fire 
at least we know we’ll find desire
tucked between those lovely thighs 
stare me down as I go inside
Your way, my way, any way that you want
I’ll be yours at least for the night 


REFRAIN




Indecent

Denver based Music Producer and solo artist.

Hi, I'm Arison Cain.

I'm a singer, songwriter, audio engineer, and producer. 

I never really know what I'm supposed to write in these biographies.

I get tempted to write these big, bombastic sentences about myself and the music that I make, and despite the fact that I am a big and bombastic person in a lot of ways, that doesn't really feel right to me. 

I've been writing songs for as far back as I can remember, and I've written a lot of them.

I've recorded and released music over the years in a number of different projects and will continue to do so for as long as I can.

I love writing all kinds of songs. I love making people laugh or cry, or feel something unique when they hear my music.

I live by the philosophy that one great song can change the world, or at least the world that each of us is living in right now.

Anthem For The Unreasonable

Arison Cain

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