Posts Tagged ‘music’

For Zita

Monday, February 23rd, 2015

New mix tape; revisiting the music I’ve performed to as Zita the Aerialist.

Thank you, Zita. You saved my life.

(if player doesn’t load, please install/update flash)

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Valentines 2015

Saturday, February 14th, 2015

“I am too intelligent, too demanding, and too resourceful for anyone to be able to take charge of me entirely. No one knows me or loves me completely. I have only myself”
― Simone de Beauvoir

This Year of the Nee valentines day, I am celebrating myself, my accomplishments, my efforts, and the fruits of those efforts.

Most pointedly, I am celebrating my album release, my release party performance (which was fucking amazing.), and having finally, finally learned, deeply in my guts, the profound difference between woundmates and soulmates.

Quincy Blaque Trio: The Drunkening

Sunday, January 25th, 2015

This song causes me to rather desperately miss partner dancing. Which is its own kind of sick little twisted irony.

As quiet as a dead mouse
and as bored as a tick
And a thousand drinks later
We’ll take home anything that’s thick

Cause the secrets are dirty
As the heart is as pure
As the water is muddy
We gave up on a cure

Your punishments in heaven
Your rewards are in hell
There’s nothing you want that’s in between
As far as I can tell

Your smile is splenetic
Your blood’s like perfume
it’ll burn if you let it
we all own stock in this doom

You think you have to destroy me
To make us equal; guess what?
This thought just keeps rolling round my head
it’s beginning to suck

Compress this into little tiny pieces broken fixed and blinded vicious eyes that float ashore they don’t need them anymore
they lie

Nothing can hurt me
except maybe pain
you’ll never convince me
of anything again.

The Pomplamoose Problem

Saturday, December 6th, 2014

This explosion of vitriol illustrates the absurd standard America holds artists to. It’s a dangerous, impossible standard that is repressing self-expression and killing culture. It’s not dissimilar in impact to the political arguments that keep so many living in poverty by voting against their own interests for politicians who take away services that were at least intended to make the middle class accessible to all. The American artist is expected to be both a saint and a martyr.

Operate outside the capitalist system and we’ll praise you for your creations, call your poverty a quaint kind of martyrdom that has nothing to do with us, and at the same time resent you for being holier than thou. Try to operate within the capitalist system and we’ll call you out as an imposter.

This resentment is something we have to take a long hard look at. We might think it comes from the idea that a tiny percentage of artists can get famous and filthy rich, or that others – despite financial struggles – have interesting and exciting lives where they perform and create while we’re stuck in a 9-5. But really, this resentment comes from the fact that when we devalue the arts, we devalue our own creative impulse.

Hula: Pop me a Pill

Friday, September 26th, 2008

Hula – Pop me a pill (mp3 file)

Got to find something
To smile about
So when I see you
I look happy

Except for all the drinking,
I’m healthy.

Pop me a pill
Oooh baby
I will even front you
The money

For making you feel better all over

There’s no fuckin reason to cry
But you’re such a lady
A lady

Don’t you know what people are saying?