1. |
flossvitch
04:06
|
|||
|
out is the need
high is the speed
life but a dream
we're cravin lucidity
i don't need no flashing lights or voices in my ears at night
i never wanna wake up tired
peace be in books and the sewing machines
in uv through oak green
the house you worked to clean
i got friends who are saying and meaning things
it's a deep dreamy scenery
a sweet place for leaning me
preciously breathless and senseless in feeling something
the man said that i had to sing
so let's
oh, i'm a walmart pope
with a mouth full of soap
learning how to take control
my head's up in the clouds
so my feet just graze the ground
when we were young we would do things for fun
and with love we could spin or get spun
now through our lungs we pull each one
static buzzing on our tongues
have a laugh, it's gas, and i'm feeling like a 1 up
little crass, a vocal mass until we see the sun up
i got some things to show ya
show them back and we'll play pylons
let's
oh, i'm a walmart pope
with a mouth full of soap
learning how to take control
my head's up in the clouds
so my feet just graze the ground
oh, i'm a walmart pope
with a mouth full of soap
learning how to take control
my head's up in the clouds
so my feet just graze the ground
|
||||
2. |
rude
03:08
|
|||
|
he's the champion of fuckall
the saint of the hole in the wall
he's hangin from the ceiling beams
just for a chance to lose his grip and fall
he's a dog and he's a scholar
he's the reason you hide your daughters
he speaks poetry in alien screams
he wants to know, do you got a dollar
my boy smells so bad
you can't even tell he's sad
he's a devil, he's a peach
here to hear underbelly preach
oh, my boy smells so bad
he's ear to ear with a firey grin
filled to brim with no rhyme or reason
he wants to talk to everyone
could he take that baby for a spin
he's too good to know when to stop
he'll pet my head and then punch a cop
fly himself straight into the sun
give it a kiss and let himself drop
my boy smells so bad
you can't even tell he's sad
he's a devil, he's a peach
here to hear underbelly preach
oh, my boy smells so bad
my boy smells so bad
you can't even tell he's sad
he's a devil, he's a peach
here to hear underbelly preach
he's the best friend i ever had
|
||||
sweetcreem Boston, Massachusetts
void pop for good pals
If you like sweetcreem, you may also like:
supported by 4 fans who also own “hed”
Sweetcream is always a treat for the listener, and this project is an amazing balance of a dreamy ambient-electronic orchestra alongside some truly uplifting therapy music to bring a little vibrancy to your day; but without the artificial sweeteners which so often dampen the flavor of this artist’s contemporaries. The sonic progression here is just exquisite
go to album
The latest from North Carolina artist Kinjac combines woozy psychedelia with grinding guitars and an all-consuming atmosphere of darkness.
go to album
Lush, dark dream-pop, glimmering and fixed with quavering baritone - a bit like if Scott Walker had made a record for 4AD in the mid-'80s.
go to album
The lush dream pop of A Beacon School combines effervescent melodies with driving percussion.
go to album
Selected Works 1983-86
by Scribble
Strangelove Music refurbishes six balearic stunners from Scribble, hidden heroes of Australia's ’80s dream-pop scene.
go to album
An absorbing reissue of enigmatic Osaka group Viola Renea juxtaposes both ancient and modern sources of sonic inspiration.
go to album
Crown Plaza make vibey, highly melodic guitar-driven indie rock augmented with clever lyrics and beautiful harmonies.
go to album
