the chemistry of common life

i woke while the sun was still around. she had been long up before i joined her, watching.

why does pigeon do such brown-toned whisperings? whistlings? the greasy preenings? while i sleep must she?

coos from throat? recession-sized dynamo fluffing at her--

puffed, or ruffled and-- and up at her

brickish lectern? coughing pillow-talk in the fashion of gasping? to which audience?

i'm not one to listen. not through a window i won't. i wouldn't have yr answer.

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this morning was gloomy, or probably was, because when i woke up in the afternoon a gloom had already settled to roost. three hours of natural light i received today. three. the past couple of days has served a purpose quite like that of a whirlwind, yet somehow the side of the barn has been replaced, the cow has been dislodged from the tree, and my tractor rides again. this is all considering i'm a farmer, which i most certainly and rather obviously am not. so, you know, in place of "side of the barn...replaced" you are invited to think i meant to write "prospects for the future...brightened." feel free also to assume i was thinking of "self-worth...massaged back to mediocre" when i wrote "cow...dislodged from the tree." figure the tractor part out on yr own. now, all that's left to overhaul is my mood and its nasty dependence on humans.

and moving sideways toward topics more suitable for the interwebs--i forgot about fucked up.

or i forgot about the fact that fucked up was a living entity, an hardcore band, a group of individuals who enjoy making music and continue to make it. well. i remember again. happy day. whoo. py.

in fact, i remembered fucked up was an evolving hardcore band and did so around the time that whirlwind whipped itself into my existence. the whirlwind now has a soundtrack, by the way, and i have a new anthemic, anthem-sounding, anthem-type thing. kind of like an anthem you could say. check this out though: it's catchy and it serves as a fine paragon for a demonstration on how fucked up is pushing people around even outside that ridiculous neolithic/simian circle-formation ritual, fooling people.

well, fool me all you want. although fucked up insists on staying an hardcore band and although their new full-length "the chemistry of common life" strays a little far from the conventions of hardcore (farther even than, say, "hidden world," an album for which i personally was not a giant spokesperson [it was just nice to have innumerable releases compiled on two LPs, even if the tracks were simply re-recorded and sounded less "hardcore" than they had originally]), i'll convince myself fucked up is still an hardcore band.

in case you haven't read any reviews of this record on websites like pitchfork (who, incidentally and following the conventions of tard-faces, has posted a review for "the chemistry of common life" that contains at least three grammatical and typographical errors [first sentence: grammatical error; second paragraph: typo ("arm-swingng"); final paragraph: typo ("Black Albino Blues"), this release has some curves. like those in a road or a pitch, pervert. however, it doesn't feel out-of-sorts. fucked up began as a fairly straight-forward hardcore band and slowly fucked with their sound in a manner similar to the way they fucked with their audience. take it away from what we all know as "hardcore." open the album with a flute. close it with a 7 minute song. use three guitarists. write clean, high-register vocal melodies. the only way to keep a genre from stagnating is to broaden its confines, to include a dynamic band whose music fits just outside of the genre previously; or win an hardcore audience, keep them with you, make changes, and then let them speak up in yr defense when yr definition of hardcore is called in for questioning--an established band needs to revitalize the genre, to push the limits from the inside.

fucked up is fucking up hardcore.

please find and listen to this record from cover to cover.
there are five songs i believe to be the highlights.
songs from other bands you ask?
we'll see.
what's my new anthem-type thing?
aww, you do give two shits.
black albino bones.

on a side note--listen for the sweet fluctuation in the bass note on "no epiphany" around the 2:14 mark. sweet.

less talk.
more rock.