I feel like its never going to get better

Loser |prod michael harrison

Lady in Blue ft. Sevens

https://14gardens.bandcamp.com/track/i-cant

lyrics:

 I must confess I ain't had any pressure

went together pulled the lever face first to the entrance

I couldn't even form a sentence, went up to mars at 9 AM and got back down by 7

I could eat your flesh, I just need some rest>

I can't help it
I just wanna break something, I just wanna break something
Like a rule perhaps

I can't help it
I just wanna break something, I just wanna break something
Like a rule perhaps

I can't

There are things I never learned how to say.
Thoughts that echo louder at night but vanish when I try to speak.

This song isn't about a story. It's about what lives in the silence between the words.
About loss that can't be explained.
About waking up and feeling like you're still missing.

I couldn’t say it — so I wrote it.

#indierock #emotional #griefcore #slowburn

Ghost in My Room

Roaches mate with only own kind

You killed from behind the door

You're trying to rape my mind

Do you want my apolozies?

Be Me Be Me Same As Me

Be Me Be Me Same As Me

Be Me Be Me Same As Me

Be Me Be Me Same As Me

I can love faster than you

I can die faster than you

I can fuck faster than you

I killed me fuck you

(Interlude)

You're actual idiot ants

You were bloody clown

I'll shove your face into the vomit

Go to fucking hell!

You dragged me into a swamp

You killed my birds

You want to watch me die

You crush my bones

(Interlude)

Be Me Be Me Same As Me

Be Me Be Me Same As Me

Be Me Be Me Same As Me

Be Me Be Me Same As Me

You get good grades on tests,

but you're being devoured by society

I'll shove your face into the water

I'll kill you!

I can love faster than you

I can die faster than you

I can fuck faster than you

I killed me fuck you

(Interlude)

Be Me Be Me Same As Me

Be Me Be Me Same As Me

Be Me Be Me Same As Me

Be Me Be Me Same As Me

I can love faster than you

I can die faster than you

I can fuck faster than you

I killed me fuck you

(Interlude)

Faster than you

I can love faster than you

I can die faster than you

I can fuck faster than you

I killed me fuck you

I can love faster than you

I can die faster than you

I can fuck faster than you

Kill Me Kill Me Fucking Me


This is my first song!
Let's listen it!
Recorded, written, and screamed by me.

Same As Shit

The Widow's Death

Because she likes me I’m royalty, 
Black hair entwined across her fingers, slick
Forever trying to stay high and aligned, freezing my prime
Sad storyteller wasn’t good enough 
They hung him there in front of the old folks,
Forever trying to stay safe at the shore,
Licking my sores
I swear…

I won’t dwell at the widow’s death
I won’t dwell at the widow’s death
I won’t dwell at the widow’s death
I won’t dwell 

Privileged ride to be on this seat
Sneaky Feet beware of standing still
Forever trying to stay high and aligned, Freezin' my prime

Written and Recorded by MGN

Widow’s Death

Revival

Torn Up

Taking The Fall

🛒 Track: Supermarket Line
🎸 Genre: Indie Rock × Jangle Pop × Post-Punk
🕰️ ~92 BPM • 🎹 Key of E Major
🌀 Mood: Desperate Daylight • Groovy Dignity • Melodic Collapse

What do you get when you cross Thom Yorke’s lunch break, a can of tuna, and the sacred geometry of aisle four? You get Supermarket Line — a jangly, fluorescent-lit prayer for the overworked, underpaid, and emotionally microwaved.

This is not just a song. This is a midlife crisis with a loyalty card.
🍞 The bun? Stale.
🐟 The tuna? Radiating existential mercury.
👼 The chorus? Britpop angels chanting through a broken speaker near the discount wine rack.

Imagine Morrissey clocking in at Aldi. Imagine The Cure stuck behind an old lady counting coins. Imagine you, toe-tapping to your own slow collapse under strip lighting.

🎧 Highlights:
– Sparkling guitars that sound like someone trying to stay hopeful in polyester
– Bassline hums like a fridge full of regrets
– Vocals? A chant from the checkout limbo

💬 “I taste God in the checkout sign.”

For anyone who’s ever questioned reality while holding cat food and dignity in the same hand — this hymn’s for you.
File under: Grocery Store Gospel for the Emotionally Exhausted.

🛒✨ Add to cart.

Lyrics:

Lunch break burns — I’m on the clock
Holding a bun like it’s solid rock
Tuna can in the other hand
Sweat runs deep — I can’t stand

Fluorescent buzz, the air is thick
Someone coughs, the smell’s too quick
The queue’s a loop of loss and sigh
I close one eye and hope to die

Coins hit tile like death by drip
One more beep — I might just flip
A child screams next to discount wine
The speaker plays "You’re doing fine"

Oh mine — oh mine — standing in the supermarket line
With a bun and a can and collapsing spine
Oh mine — oh mine — they say this wait is "by design"
But I taste God in the checkout sign

The old girl counts her silver slow
Like each cent holds a tale of woe
She buys cat food and winter bread
And I rethink all I’ve ever said

No cart, no grace, just tuna oil
And this slow-roast public boil
Behind me breathes a man too near
His cologne: regret and fear

They loop a song from ’99
I fake a smile like "I’m just fine"
But this feels close to some defeat
That ends in tears and processed meat

Oh mine — oh mine — still trapped in the supermarket line
With my dignity on the bottom line
Oh mine — oh mine — I’m one beep from a holy sign
But salvation costs €2.99

No one’s famous in aisle four
Just saints of sweat on vinyl floor
We carry lunch like holy weight
And wait for joy… that shows up late

Oh mine — oh mine — I dissolve in the supermarket line
There’s no escape, no grand design
Oh mine — oh mine — I’m a hymn in fluorescent shine
And this bun... is borderline divine

"Next customer, please…"

Supermarket Line

Hat Trick

Way Too Much

Ever cried into your cereal while pretending to be fine? Good. You're in the right place.

This is Indie Rock with jangle in its bones, Post-Punk with a library card, and melancholy dressed in skinny jeans.
Expect:
– sparkling guitars that sound like heartbreak in a sunbeam
– melodic basslines that know your secrets
– dry, punchy drums that haven’t called their mum in months
– and a baritone voice that’s part poet, part ghost of the guy you once loved in an Oxfam coat.

Born from the dusty corners of 80s UK outsider culture and raised on existential dread and corner shop romance, these songs hum with bittersweet longing and supermarket aisle revelations.

For fans of:
🖤 texting “I’m fine” while listening to music
🖤 dancing alone in the kitchen with unwashed hair
🖤 finding beauty in things that definitely weren’t meant to be beautiful

✨Press play if you’ve ever:
– Thought too much at a bus stop
– Mistaken nostalgia for personality
– Found peace in not giving a damn (but still kinda do)

Lyrics:

Kettle sighs like it knows what I lost
Steam curls up like a ghost in the frost
Sunlight hits where her laughter used to land
Now there’s only dust, and this cloth in my hand

The floorboards moan like they miss her too
Her echo walks in the shape of my shoes
I wipe down the counter, I rinse out the cup
The silence just swells, and never shuts up

Hoovering and smothering
On a sunny but grey Saturday morning
She’s nowhere, she’s everywhere
In the scent of her hair, in the cold kitchen air
I’m cleaning like prayer, like it matters she’s gone
Still asking the silence what went wrong

The mirror still leans where she once smiled
Crooked and bright, like a soft kind of wild
I won’t fix it, I don’t dare—
It’s the last thing she touched, it still feels like her stare

I scrub the tile, and remember her joke
The one with the nun and the disappearing smoke
She'd read me some line from a poet unknown
Then leave like a breeze and not pick up her phone

Hoovering and smothering
On a sunny but grey Saturday morning
She’s a verse in a room, she’s the twist in the light
She’s the laugh that still lingers when I turn off the night
I’m wiping down silence, I’m folding regret
I’m singing to ghosts I can’t forget

If she saw me like this—
Worn sleeves, slow breath
Would she laugh or just whisper:
"You’re still not over it yet?"

And I hum to myself,
as the vacuum moans—
it sounds like a hymn
to the place we called home.

Hoovering and smothering
On a day too bright to cry,
Too empty to move on,
Too quiet to lie.

Hoovering and Smothering (On a Sunny but Grey Saturday Morning)

Call Me

do you even think about me the same way that i 

think about you

do you even think about me the same way that i 

think about you x5

do you even remember me from when i was around?

waiting for margaret to come back

safe house

I'm living life in a different texture

Come to my show July 26th 2025 in vancouver:
https://www.eventbrite.com/e/misfit-mayhem-tickets-1358024470749?utm_experiment=test_share_listing&aff=ebdsshios&sg=14572ee543605519adba29f5b8810e883f80b366f12b1ba1d784bd13b942dd1d72b762161ec0fb0e73ae082c5db2d6846091e887167bd7f1f45c2a8d9aed6a862cfe83e5954c74570865e1babf92

Space Goblins (and Roveran) is an one-person project by Matías G. Noorder, creating from the far south of the sphere. All music, lyrics, and production by MGN. No AI involved — just old detuned guitars, a shitty voice, and some synths.

Space Goblins

https://open.spotify.com/intl-es/artist/2uYXcd8P0izjaAHyc2PJgM?si=Bwyjuy7iTbe2O2bxNp58CA

Roveran

https://open.spotify.com/intl-es/artist/1A20jGU7VIaC8pSjmOrZkZ?si=GJDeVg3TQhS4FPc-FoO6xA

fyi she’s not a vampire, she just likes to dress that way.

I make whatever I want — whatever feels real at the moment.
Sometimes it’s loud, sometimes it hurts.
I’m not here to fit in. I’m here to say something.

And if you feel like supporting what I do:
→ donatello.to/xh1d3r

Hi there — welcome to my corner of the web.

I’m here for one simple reason: to share my music with you.
Take a listen, explore, and I hope something here resonates with you. Enjoy the vibe!

CASTLEBEAT / josh hwang
i record stuff & started @spiritgoth 

vinyl/cassette/merch 
https://spiritgoth.com/search?q=castlebeat

new side project @gloomjoy
other project @jadedjuiceriders

New tracks tagged #LoFiRock