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Panting (Solo Demos 2018)

by Matthew H. Welch

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1.
Stevie Nicks 05:11
Stevie Nicks The Disco Kid Comes dancing in A treatise on style Who's that on your t shirt man? is that who i think it is? The Disco Kid Comes dancing in Like it's 1976 Past all those goose-stepping Live in style or don't live i lost my In the checkout line at the Bank Of America Please forgive me, Mr. Advertisement Just found out I was the product But I still get my kicks Yeah and I'm still fluorescent The decoherent lets itself in Detournment / Recuperation splits Who's that on your t shirt mama? Is that Stevie Nicks? She is Krylon Gold The way the room implodes There's blue lights flashing In the elevator shaft The city's changing Molten steel and wavy glass In liquid globules No superstructure E v e r y t h i n g s o s l i p p e r y I broke down in the stairwell tripping Uncontrollable telepathy I don't want to dance anymore If you don't want to dance with me The punk rock whiz with the FM synth Like David Bowie in The Man Who Fell To Earth Or John Lydon in a MAGA T shirt I haplessly take on The Mad Scientist His evil laugh He takes photographs To alter how its changing Her face the size of a municipal block Looks down on me bawling on the rooftop Remembering things that haven't happened yet Precisely or not The Grey Wolf says, "Kid, come with me" Pushes him into the backseat Flying by night through the city He turns around and says "That's my voice in your head The city is living and Kid You're not dead yet" The Disco Kid Post-trauma tics Who's that on your t shirt Kid? Is that Stevie Nicks?
2.
Joseph Boxes 04:28
Joseph Boxes If I could make you happy I would be Joseph Boxes I would follow rainbows I would come up roses The smell of failure Is quite peculiar But one to which one Can grow accustomed It's least attractive For men of my age Imagination Left unattended In telescoping logic it all makes perfect sense Joseph Boxes Billy's friend I think my iPhone's haunted I am not Joseph Boxes These storied tableaux and vignettes Are partisan and incorrect This propaganda from the left The violence of the middle class The scent of failure Is quite remarkable But one with which one Will grow familiar I know God made you because he had to I have often felt compelled myself To become someone for you To show you I adore you Above all others and no one else If i could make you happy i would be Joseph Boxes If independence comes You'd better stay out of the streets This guy from East St. Louis Says he can sell it for me i never even knew I made it until it was gone Like a lousy payday And you still play the numbers Faces you remember Ain't so good with names Thought i was Joseph Boxes From the picture in the Post Office That's my kids future stepfather you're talking about Intellectually beyond possessiveness And its attendant rage Love children too much to complain Not enough hours in the day To be both Joseph Boxes And whatever this is if I could tell a story I'd probably paint a picture It deletes my poems The cinema's pure fiction I watch them get seduced and smile and poke fun at the advertisements Featuring Joseph Boxes Against a broken father Against a backlit backdrop A thousand times I begged her No Don't marry Joseph Boxes Don't take my kids to England Don't go live in a castle I'll chase some rainbows for you
3.
Beggar Kid 05:26
Beggar Kid Like a beggar kid With the power to evoke sympathy in hardened hearts And closed system minds Your lovers texts Total transaction time A pickpocket move Bumping up against you Then onwards unaware but still perturbed Through the marketplace With no watch nor wallet My phone Made by a beggar kid In a green crystal factory Sold to me by a woman With pretty dreadlocks and a hashtag metoo t shirt on I saw her again once on the train but she didn't remember my name Hers was Ayesha And I wondered if she saw any of my poems or photographs The secret world I populate with working theories Calculated waiting for service elevator Perhaps the undue influence of Any or all of the above Floors designated hotel or construction There's no 3s or 4s in modern casinos Mall security dragged her kids away She ran into Best Buy with the truck in idle They rode it down the hill into a brand new Volvo You're a cute kid and your mom's a stripper Your dad's dad's ghost raises you up with stage effects Like a beggar kid With a runny nose My cup runneth over Spare some change for my habit you bitch whore nun Which is to say incoherent deleted I feel sorry for you And people feel sorry for me so Don't feel so sorry for yourself It'll get better Don't worry kid It'll get better
4.
Flowers 04:00
Flowers Self portrait vii Life as organic matter Chained to a brain like a tow motor Clacking down the concrete with Christian Marclay's guitars Torturous metaphors mixed wildly were her stock in trade All that matters is how much money you make Do your flowers bloom? Does she see through you? Do you get to do what you want to do? Is your money working for you? Or for the Black Hand Rampaging the island banks? Does the tree bear fruit? Is there anything left to lose? Do you see me like I see you? Does the macroeconomy agree with your models? Did you shoot the moon between your toes and faint like you'd died and gone to heaven? Between the railroad tracks and the river You were climbing down a culvert I could barely believe it You were moving so swiftly So I ran into the clearing Slid down gravel to the bank Tried to make you out in the distance Wondered if we'd ever meet again Running in the dust behind the vehicle Into a disappointing sunset An oncoming train A ridiculous rain Eternally grateful For photographs of flowers and birds Freedom from music and words My filthy imagination Drenched in pre-dawn dark The path of least resistance Is treacherous to walk
5.
DNA 04:34
DNA When I see my cardinal coming My heart starts to thrumming I get a charge from physical proximity to animals I tried to hide in plain sight Then I entered the forest In the dream the lush green overtook civilization I projected a jungle from my fingertips Traced triangles with my laser eye Knew that help wasn't coming Proceeded with caution The heart of a building can be accessed through the steam pipes Forgive me, Monsignor Let me take out my Bluetooth In the sanctum of marriage I nearly lost you Reaching hands through the window Of a slowly moving car You got what you wanted Then I had to return to the past And still face the music When the cardinal stopped coming My whole brain went to thrumming I put my mask back on and hid among the crows It's like they look you in the eye sometimes It's like they look you in the eye It's like they look you in the eye sometimes Like you can almost see through their eyes A new world to populate It's in the DNA Never that far away Encroaching on one another's territory Unaware of the mutual need to survive To get to the other side Of this random universe With some semblance of sense remaining Some fire to carry home
6.
Cassandra 02:37
Cassandra Cassandra Your visions haunt me still Cassandra Your medicine's a poison pill Cassandra Constellations of voices Cassandra Her skull's an arcade of noises Whatever became of her? Of us? She used to let me whisper in her ear To see my life through her eyes one more time Or that she might Hear me cry out in the night Cassandra Can you see it coming? Cassandra The future so full of promise Cassandra Let's leave the lies and betrayals Cassandra Behind us Cassandra Was it worth it? Cassandra No don't tell me Cassandra Can you see it coming? Cassandra Your visions haunt me still
7.
The Chandelier I stand beneath a vision of my childhood Under a crystalline monstrosity in the atrium of the museum Join the party Drink to the photographed and the photographer More often than not one in the same I whimper like a dog when you step on my tail I go on and on and on and on I am a chandelier My face a mirror I am the sound of a million tiny pieces breaking into a million tiny pieces I go on and on A museum of dead ideas That define the terms of our existence What could proscribe a force of such persistence? I've survived things you wouldn't believe I don't need to anymore i don't even breathe I assume it's the same for everyone but suspect I've been disinformed Naturally it goes on and on and on We've run the worst case scenarios Walking zombie through the echelons of obscene and absurd wealth throughout history The cronies and the oligarchs pulling the strings of puppets and people alike Be they priests or politicians They go on and on and on and on and on I want out of this circus I'm a real boy Raised among wolves to be an astronaut I want to swing from your chandelier Bring the whole thing crash crash crashing down 6 inches off the floor It will hang upside down and UFO I will hang upside down and UFO You can tire swing on me I'm The Chandelier i go on and on and on Like the oceans of Europa Pulling me down through razor blade stalactites of ice Reflections of light from Jupiter Peal of bells You've never seen a sky so full of stars I trust something will survive because it almost always does It goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on I stand before a visage of my old age I am life size 16th century Dutch black lacquer In a secret wing of the museum In a pearl shaped diamond blue Your gaslight chandelier singing It goes on and on and on and on and on

about

Solo Demos composed, recorded, edited, produced, performed, and uploaded by Matthew H. Welch for better or worse. Right, wrong, or indifferent, this is how I've been navigating the world I find myself in.



Thanks to: John Bender, Arthur Russel, Jim Underwood, Rene Drell, Peter Quinn, Forrest French, Clark Carr, Francis Bacon, L.A. Fritsch, William Schaff, Billy Shade, Katy Shade, Laura King, Craig Bowen, Ryan Wojewodski, Sherry Welch, Rick Walters, Michael Ribeiro, Ben McConnell, John Hughes, Derrick Busch, Devon Fick, Laura Fick, Patrick White, Monty Cantsin, Karen White, The Grey Wolf, Katy Margolis, Mykola Haleta, Brian Randolph, Stevie Nicks, Lindsey Buckingham, Martin Hannett, Mick Fleetwood, John McVie, John Lydon, April Householder, Rick Powell, Denise Treat, Lois Treat, Stuart Staples, Scott Walker, Fugazi, Broadcast, John Foxx, Benjie Loveless, Kevin Shields, Kerry Silanskis, Roberto Bolano, Wild Bill Hick and the Hip Priest departed, Chris Coady, Neil Aviles, Dave Sitek, Daniel Higgs, David Corbett, WAV Integrations, Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones, all those fighting fascism with art and love everywhere.

Dedicated to: children, especially Silas and Wren, my inspiration and sunshine

credits

released November 8, 2018

Words and vocals, sounds and pictures by MHW. MacBook Pro, Logic Pro X, Apogee Duet, Akai MPK mini, AKG Perception 120, Moleskine notebooks, iPhone Notes, Hipstamatic App, Moleskine App

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Matthew H. Welch Baltimore, Maryland

Songmaker, Singer, Guitar Player, Producer for SIGINT. Formerly of the Aviary and Pedge. Poetic Rock and Roll From A Future.

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