Another phenomenal album. Thank u Thurston for all the music & creativity that brought artistic independence to my generation.

2020: a playlist de Luís Guerra

Harmonizer

Waxman

Fire Doesn't Grow On Trees

Before And Afterland

The Hope Six Demolition Project - Demos

Chain Of Keys (Demo)

Subjectivity [V]

Manipulator

The Clock

In the Air

Televised Mind

Making a Door Less Open

Weightlifters

Tunnel Vision

Beyond the Pale

Children of the Echo

Spit

By The Fire

Hashish

Here I am again,
Here I am sitting in the waiting room
Waiting for an appointment
That I had booked six months ago
I’m feeling very low
Yes, I was shitting bricks
At the prospect of existence without you
And so I gave it one more go

But the story didn’t stick and something didn’t click
Some allergies you tolerate and some habits, you just have to kick


I saw you on your back
Amongst the peanut shells
That were scattered on the floor of the big top
Right next to the overwhelming sense
Of impending doom, but no one even asked
Or mentioned anything to me about the
Elephant in the room when suddenly it clicked
Some allergies you tolerate and some habits, you just have to…

You gotta bite the bullet, you gotta get it fixed
You gotta get it seen to (so see to it)
That the story sticks

You always said that you’d both met and fell in love at the circus
And that’s why you loved animals so much
So much so that you’d bought a big dog
With little ears and called it ‘dumbo’
Which was a joke that got less and less funny every time
Obviously you brought the dog along that night…
When you showed up otherwise alone, to my dinner party,
Having already rang ahead, to ensure that all of my dishes
Had been prepared in a completely nut free environment,
Now quipping that it was for the sake of your ‘imaginary’ husband,
Because several years on from the wedding
That none of us were invited to
We still hadn’t met him, even though you always said he was coming,
Before suddenly he couldn’t make it
Because he travelled a lot with work, but mainly
Because he didn’t really exist,
You broke down in tears in my kitchen,
certain he was seeing someone else.
How reckless we’d all been to tolerate your fabricated reality
But until then I didn’t have the guts
To put an end to the ever maddening scenes
So instead, with a solemn nod and totemic silence,
I walked over to the cupboard
where I kept the snacks,
took a pinch of dry roast dust from the loose pegged bag
Sprinkled an inch into the upturned palms of your trembling hands
and said
'If you just rub some of this
Round the rim of his can then no one will know,
but we’ll all understand’
It takes real guts to fake being nuts
And it takes real nuts, to break fake guts

You gotta bite the bullet, gotta get it fixed
Get it seen to (so see to it)
Because stories that don't stick
Mean someones bound to twig
If your alibis cooperate then they will be
Fed to all the pigs

Peanuts

Hashish

Thurston Moore

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