An EP.

In the sense of it being longer than a song but shorter than a full, satifying release. (oo-er) Recorded up in the hills, duelling meds and chasing bandicoots, high up on the Planet of the Apps.

I've been feeling free, on the good days, artistically unblocked and regularly breaking the sickly hold of 46 years of relentless conditioning inflicted upon my psyche from inception to middle-aged spread.

Far from the clutches of peer-pre-programmed autoshame
& E-Z selfhatehelp. The socially prick-protecting "protocol" and fake-grinning, over-the-shoulder-eye-rolling and mob-mental eyebrow-raising murmured expectation of your immediate surrender and inevitable self-repression of any emotional expression plus your compliance to the rigid syntax of The Script, cue: your emphatically and publically expressed self-deprecation, to be inhaled like opium smoke by empathy-disabled, cravenly libellious and grossly narcissistic scavengers of the delicious despair of others..

It goes like this:

ME: "I'm so sorry that you fucked it up. Actually, hang on, no it couldn't have been you. It must have been me. I mean, it's aways me that fucks things up".
NARCISSIST: "Yes, I agree".

Passive-aggressive narcissists prowling around my periphery.
Fomenting ill-feeling and a nest of doubt in my everyday delivery.
These fuckers are clothed in smoke and cheap duty free bonhomie.

Blind to their inevitable future failure to satiate an inexhaustible and savagely hungry desire for complete domination and the heartless, controlling subjugation of you, their prey, largely by the manipulation of everybody else around and combined with their brilliant gift for the self-promotion of their Grand Myth, their Origin Story, an insidious mass sale of fantastically woven, eagerly consumed blatant lies and fairytales all aimed at discrediting and belittling you or used to explain to their sycomphantic acolytes why they had to take what is yours, steal your talent, your possessions, your job, intimate emotions, lovers, friends, or bloody anything and everything that you have (had), ergo - they want.

THE INDUSTRY, my full spent release.
Album, that is, will be out on vinyl probably around Dec 2019 maybe.

About this EP. One request. Listen to it all at once as if you had unplugged yourself from Big Brother during the Myspace epoch, and therefore have managed to hold on to not only your ownership of...
....ALL your personal data, hopes, dreams, intimate thoughts & desires, financial details, shopping habits, sexual preferences, political leanings, your photos, family's likenesses etc etc...in perpetuity ad infinitum ......but to hold on to your attention span and ability to slowly, with consideration and aesthetic appreciation, gradual attainment of emotionally resonant universal lightning bolt turn-on-moments that grow you! An experienced connection with humanity, possiblly pure visceral enjoyment of the artist's creation (8-tracked bigmuff pedal reversed through stone phaser) YOU KEPT your mojo! Still get off on absorbing and consequently understanding, connecting with, and enjoying shit like music & books & movies & husbands & dreams. Ah.

Myself, I think I really like it. I like what I did.

I hope that you, too, enjoy the following broken machine jazz lofi/hifi/wifi digibeatings shattered almost-meanings echoes kicking around discarded signifiers + blip + sing and meticulously sloppy agonized-over glitched tweaking, tweaked frequency modulated waveforms bled by fat leeches of almost-give up-on-its, all of this leaking like the Titanic Captain's Todger from this apparently middle-aged, newly-outed depressive bipolar, evolvingly recovering substance addict

WHO

is slowly, carefuly attempting to restore what I thought was lost forever. That thing. THE Thing. The grail. Youthful, joyful, memory. The other dragon we chase. That original, passionate, painful but essential spark of vision. The fierce urge to MAKE. Impenetrable to the cynic. Invincibility endowing. You laugh at the scorn of others.
Ah Hahaha haha. I am a genius, mang.

Original, gloriously self-indulgent. I want you to get it too music. feeling and frisson art, noooooo hope for, effort to produce, or consideration of commercial gain & mass public adoration (validation)
Just. Sound. Playing. Singing. With soul. Make it incredible. Sex-starved. Up to an ITCH. Heady. Angry. Red and orange-spattered chocolate love noise and dancing and staring into space out of the bus window staring into a galaxy.

This. I aim to restore within me battered but somehow functioning psyche. I want my ego back. I want to be fucking awesome.
Agai n.I want to laugh again. Easily make strangers into friends.... . I want to impress myself. Not anyone else. With music. By rebuilding life. Fixing the engine. With my own commitment to it.

It's likean archeologist who builds the skeleton of a 300 million-year old creature that may or not be the actual shape or design of the original thundering lizard monster skeleton, with his or her learned, intellectually informed - but STILL only really imagined collaboratively by an academic quorum, riddled with yet more narcissists and glory thieves who will hear no more evidence once their books are in the curriculum, thankyou.

Nobody has ever, or will ever EVER actually SEE said creature, ever.
But...
Monster lizards. Cool.

Steve Parkin
September 6, 2019.