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about
A surreal portrait of lives fully realised within the sheltered compound of something I suppose could be called neoliberal modernity. What are the psychological byproducts of a success defined entirely by normative systems and structures of power? How do people live together after being coded as separately competing individuals, and what do we hide and deny by taking on those roles? What happens when we become conditioned to respond to the prompts and tropes of individual self-actualisation without the reward ever actually arriving, and what about those for whom the promise of reward was never there to start with? I don’t know; I’m not a theorist. Seems pretty fucked though.
lyrics
Despite medical miracles they were more ill, more pills, foreclosed happiness mills. Drip fed benzo dreams, milk of human kindness, a sedative narrative, a story of glorified, categorised, corporate bodies; man, woman, freedom machine, entropic entrepreneurs, hard-working gym-junky job-hunting gods under duress for success. There's no shelter at home, there's no life left alone. So the hidden thing remained hidden, pawing at the bone cage within like a padded cell wall of inanimate matter: corporeal capital to be manipulated, managed while inside the patient watches, patiently abiding. Committed by a sick committee, psychologically violent manic tyrants confine it to solitude, silence, inner wandering - a wise and wild unknowing underling watching while they hold it down, watching while they drown it in denial. Erase it, reform it, fear and revile but still it refuses to die, and they could feel it watching with unclouded eyes. So they bound the feet of clouds and the sky limped by on broken feet, and it rained down bits of every lie; they washed their face pieces of their unkind smile. Now there's no place left to fill 'cus the crucible has spilled. And it seemed like they were never gonna get beyond it. Never further, never deeper, never anymore complete; and they feared the thought that they weren't in the centre of it anymore. So they fled to sleep and the money held them down. They had to sleep with the money, their dreams went ha-ha.
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