carousel.mp3

Static On TV

We ripped this hit 1963 classic from my CD compilation "Boy Singers of the 60s: The Gold Collection" so check it out! :)

MAMAMAMAMAMA I GOT MOUTH LICE

its all shoving natural parking garage nation you said "i went to the supermarket but there was no supermarket just alienation and fear and guilt and thought train stations" 

a sequel to the song the boxer by simon and garfunkel called the boxer 2

laughing in my bedroom with the lights all off you can kiss my polyester when the night runs off but we cant pray to each other when our gods run off because neither of us have that kind of authority a cat lady drugged rushes down the stairs old and crying she says listen to me mister because my son is dying please just give him everything he needs and let him stay up late the cell phone generation needs this were going to war

The Cellphone Generation Vs. World War III

by the time i reach nirvana i'll have been up all night and what i'll do is cut the branches off of a tree with kindergarten scissors and revel in my old age join a 70s tribute band you don't know who i am but i know we're both whole meet a fake woman start a fake family i mean a harem die at the end of a gorgeous sunset because like i never really did care for those by the end of church, i hope you all get dead take me to church most people at some point leave and never return

a sequel to the song take me to church by hozier called take me 2 church

we snuck into your house you threw up on the floor well i can't do these kinds of things with you anymore if i could travel back in time and tell myself things the first thing i'd tell myself would be don't worry you'll have plenty of time left unless you think you won't my eyes are so wide like you know for my eyes i can't stop scratching my back although i'm on vacation with my best friend i feel like I'm all by myself which is perfectly okay there's a wall on which it's written that you were here and i love the mystique of those sorts of things don't you love that kind of thing

hey shut up

new years eve you pat me on the head although that's nice i'd like to live with you instead and you could pat me on the head for every waking day but in a really sexy way and when the sun it flies by our house i'll have no need to shut you out we'll each have a beer it won't be weird i'll be reborn i'll stop my fears from existing

i love the girl

I'm Only Sleeping

featuring Victoria Park on piano!!! written for the soundtrack of Dylan Greenberg's new film, DARK PRISM

well it's easy to be a pylon like me, on a street draped in blankets, exempt from your breeze
yes, a comfort to stare and just wish i could weep, to stand still in the rain when i should be asleep
i feel pleasure so vague when people slide and splash, an orgasm so faint that it would make you laugh in a weekend lent shack where you’d smoke and i’d crash and burn the last perfectly good photograph

so i’ve been singing to shelter the cold from my veins and to combat my probably made up migraines
i don’t know if i’m good, i should hope i don’t know what to say
still i see the hands of a kid who sleeps inside my head, he’s demanding in song that i get out of bed and i get up at 2:00, make myself food, then wish i was dead

so easy

it's easy to be (a pylon like me)

song written for the soundtrack of Dylan Mars Greenberg's new film Amityville: Vanishing Point

we were lying in bed loving each other to death, your head upon the pillow, you said "why must we be apart, and why not a single mind and heart eternally? i'm not saying it's wrong because i know it's right. i guess if we were spheres of light perhaps you could collide with me, but then it will never be, my love, goodnight" 

i guess i'm holding up because i mean it doesn't suck and like would you believe some people are intimidated by me? like just considering i'm dying and also penniless. like some art school shits i saw the other day nearly pissed themselves when i jumped from my balcony but now i've run out of clever things to say 

as a child slept through storms in a magic park. when i turned 10, daddy said "marky i think you've learned to love the dark." now i still do and i'm working too, i think i missed my train. where is that little boy yet he remains 

(make some noise)

as one (algorhythm)

(this is a PSA:
ahhhhhh)

what do you care if i'm impatient? and still for your consideration:
the ghosts haunt her so she can't sleep
the wounds are chrome and carved real deep
never at peace, a droll sensation, she longs for semi-dream sedation
oh, but everybody cuts their hair
in a strange way, she doesn't care

feeling like i'm feeling like a burden and i still can't stand up right

kept getting ill, hallucinations provide sufficient excavations, so though she threw up an awful lot, she couldn't feel where she'd been shot
outside of the jewish congregation, a rock symbolic on occasion of everything that only sits and seldom ever gives a shit
oh how i wish i could be

feeling like a burden and i still can't stand up right
(for now i'm running from the demons of demerit and getting lost in the heart of the hospital and lighting up at the sight of my frustration and being told i'm)

*COTARD*

Written and performed by Matt Ellin
Produced by Matt Ellin with Daniel Neiman
Mastered by Eric Benoit

Pamphlet Messiah (Cotard, Cotard) 

Field Commander Cohen (cover)

Piano by Victoria Park
Mastered by Eric Benoit

So now I've learned all of the reasons to exist
And plus I've spent a hot minute corroborating it 
No, I will never wish harm upon my health
Still I would like the universe to leave me somber by myself
I'll breathe fire to cut down all the trees
Use 'em to build a sanctuary home, a noble house for me 
Is all this lazy love necessary? 
Sorry friends
I'm a jerk
Do good work

I won't pick up the phone 

These days there's not as much skunk smoke in my breath
And I've stayed quiet since my eighth grade dynamite death
But still I think I know exactly what you mean
It's just that I've been petrified of people ever since I was thirteen
And I am four years older than that now
And I still haven't died yet and it's a wonder to me how God really seems to want us all to stay alive
But I don't know if God is real, I really can't make up my mind
My soul will sleep in incandescent fever songs
I'll play the guitar and my idea of God can sometimes sing along and if I can't live off of that on its own
Goodbye God
I'm not here
I'm not home

But still this putrid purity, though it plagues me, is my own

Now I have very real life skills
I don't know how I'll go about adult functions like paying bills
I never learned how to read a map, but as long as I make music is it arbitrary to know all that crap?
See my eternity sadness expand and as soon as I commence its collapse, I can be a moral man
And though it isn't wise to walk off misery,
I'll walk it off

I Won't Pick Up The Phone

Walking the streets on a Sunday 'cause it's better than lying in bed
Should I make eye contact with that person or just stare straight ahead
And to my dismay, there stands a siren on the corner of the edge of the path
But I walk on 
And I laugh
I guess it's just that time of year
I will not live in fear

Now I'm falling asleep, sick and somber in the chasm of a daylight's dream
I assure you I am better adjusted than this, less indefatigable than I seem
And when I awake, I'll surely say my final rough and tumble prayer to you
Then I'll scoff
I'm well off
And though the anomie persists
Some may doubt it exists

Evening plans turn on a dime and this poet is past his prime
I think I'll look at the sunset
See if I can get inspired

Matt Ellin - Vox, guitars, bass
Daniel Neiman - Drums, synths, piano, vox

Written by Matt Ellin
Produced by Daniel Neiman and Matt Ellin
Engineered by Daniel Neiman

From the album All Is Not Lost, available to stream and download September 1st.

Intersection

Standing outside of the takeout waiting for his chili fries 
The dolt examines wonders of a life 
"How did I make it this far 
Without getting hit by a car 
And why is most of my alone time spent in groups of five? 
Yes, and why is all I do each day to die?" 
And he'll never know why 

Making out some weekends, smoking just because he can 
His company's in fairly high demand 
"How will I keep all my friends 
In the inevitable world's end? 
What if my toe cheese taints the heaven sand 
In Jesusland?" 

He'll never be as clever as he thinks 
And he'll gain less with each Miller Lite he drinks 
And he will try to make sense of the rain 
Folks who give their kids alliterative names 
But there is nothing to know, no, the rhetoric flails 'til it sinks 
His parents will pay for his drinks

The Dolt Examines Wonders of A Life

What we saw in skeletal, in lieu, in spite of skin
You and I were mercenaries, fixed upon the carpet
In exchanging pleasantries you asked me what I'd said
And I said "I don't know anymore, I don't know anymore"
And you said "Oh"

Whoa
I'm tuned into an idiosyncratic brainchild, stuck in a womb sans belligerence
Whoa
You're construction symbiotic chemical imbalance
Stuck in the drainpipe
Whoa
But it's you and me yapping with a capital "Y" 
Just like how you and I are doing all the time
I can't just talk enough, enough, talk talk talk to you
But still you know that I like talking too

Synth solo- Daniel Neiman
Art- Clare McCarthy

What We Saw In Skeletal (unfinished)

Buford big window, buffered big rumpy
Took a big bite out of Sylvester Strumpy 
And Kathy looked up
And Kathy looked down
And Kathy looked down again
There’s fewer ways to gaze these days 
So Buford big bone friend, suddenly moaned “trend” 
Hupferry jean jacket, gelatin jewel 
And there's the mucus from slumpry 
A delicate fumbry 
Biscuits and bewlard and succulent mule

Biscuits And Bewlard

I feel like shit tonight. I don't know any feeling worse than knowing that nothing is going to happen tomorrow. I can’t believe I’m still afraid of the same people who I got shit from in high school for not being cryptic and aloof enough and using too many exclamation points in my Facebook statuses. It’s so telling that I see them around in all of the internet circles and feel like I want them to think I’m a cool guy. I thought I was over this. I thought I’d managed to convince myself that I was better for my sincerity. Maybe these people have the luxury of seeming cool on social media and not using it as a means of letting out their frustrations with themselves and others, because they have hundreds of real life friends who are there for them whenever they need them. Maybe they just stifle those feelings entirely. How should I know or care? If a casual acquaintance with a self-aware James Dean look and a semi-ironic Lil Pump shirt offers me a cigarette, I’ll refuse it and tell him smoking kills. I’ll then proceed to tell him all about everything going wrong in my life in great detail, and all upper-case letters. Maybe I’ll even throw in an “I can’t even”, albeit subtly so we can brush past it. If he asks me what I’ve been listening to lately, I’ll tell him Black Sabbath and talk about Geezer Butler’s bass playing extensively, even if, no, especially if he tries to change the subject. I am comfortable with myself. From this point forward, my aim is to be the kind of guy that cool people couldn’t stand to talk to for more than 3-minute increments. Sorry, I think maybe I’m starting to sound a little annoying, um, kind of heavy-handed. I’m just like, sort of of frazzled and I have a lot of questions. I mean, who are these people? How is it that they’re able to, in so much as a glance, make me feel like I’m going to hell for admitting to still liking Death Grips? Am I really this insecure? Everyone’s done acid like 12 times, and the general consensus is that a single glass of chardonnay is where it’s really at. I need people to know that I don’t think The Beatles were one tenth as innovative as Can. When listing my favorite movies on my dating profile on the dating apps, I’ll be sure to include an obligatory parenthesized “ugh” next to Gummo. I’ll go to all of the shows and watch a guy who looks like me beat the shit out of a floor tom with one hand and play a single oscillated synthesizer note with the other for 45 minutes. When it’s over I’ll clap, haven’t felt right in a week, those overalls are rustic chic, I’m falling out, I’m falling out, I’m falling down, I’m falling down

probably one of my worst

And I remember Monday night, one in the morning 
Your friends would come and try to get you out of bed 
We never locked the door, so they would just walk in and ask “Are you awake and do you want to smoke a cigarette?”
You’d moan and push the pillow up against your face and I’d pretend that I was sleeping through the noise
But you’d get up, put your shoes on, head into the rain, and I don’t think I even ever heard your voice 

First thing I didn’t know, you did too many tabs, and this you told me the last time we ever spoke
Next thing I didn’t know, you made your boyfriend mad, ‘cause you were on too many tabs over the phone
Next thing I knew, I couldn’t get in touch with you, and I was wondering if we were even friends
God, I tried to call you like a hundred fucking times, god, Harriet, is this how you treat all your friends?

Oh Harriet, I can’t believe you never told no one why 
Oh Harriet, I can’t believe you made your boyfriend cry

Harriet

wesley walker - vox
finn martel - guitar 
matt ellin - bass, synth
nick wynn - drums

thru my window

been deeply, deeply into every aspect of this song for the past few months or so and decided to try my hand at it. what's the biggest thing you ever done did see big jilm

Big Jilm (Ween cover)

I Can't Decide (Scissor Sisters cover)

This is a pilot for a show that I created for 89.7 WTMD. The premise was that it was a comedy show, with various sketches and characters performed by me, partnered with an eclectic mix of music. The show unfortunately never saw the light of day...until today.

Matt Ellin Variety Hour Pilot

Photo: Dillon (support them at dillon.darkroom.tech)

I'm a little horse whose name is Freddie Brorse
And I'm known to my friends as Harry
I shuffle all day and I shuffle all night, and I bet you think you're pretty

Tweedle deedle dee on the old gum tree
Tweedle or my name ain't Bobby
Tweedle all day and a-tweedle all night, and I bet you think you're dandy

They rode me to the docks, thought they'd buy me a pet rock
But they only bought stationary
I've got a muzzled make, you could eat me like a cake, oh, but that won't be necessary

Tweedle deedle dee on the old gum tree
Tweedle or my name ain't Bobby
Tweedle all day and a-tweedle all night, and I bet you think you're dandy

Matt Ellin

Popular tracks