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Pulp Music


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Start the day, my throat caught up in a sick taste Relearning motives which inevitably stagnate Relearning movements at a slower pace Start the week, and all the other insects in the house crawling out of sleep Throw on their overcoats and run into the street Return, repeat Social animal Unattainable want, perceived need... Restart the week, my tongue does a round behind my teeth Mind does a round of possibility, falls into fantasy Restart the day, my soul caught up in a memory Knowing that these prints could taint the vast expanse of this blank slate
Collateral 02:01
You can erase my name and advertise my place My thumbprints were stained, I didn’t want to muddy the page Collateral, collateral… I wish to withdraw my support from the programme and advisory board Building with clay and wishing it was powder snow and it would melt away
Warm Spirit 03:02
I’m dressed as though for my death Is it soon? I don’t know I got a forecast from a seer Is it true? I don’t know A little clairvoyance tonight! Aloof and resigned A blown kiss to the oracle Was it you? I don’t know Delivered with a confidence Like you knew what was told Who builds the walls of the bottomless pit? Does it make me or do I make it? Warm spirit rise in me! Say “It’s ok to be a spineless weed, It’s ok to be a yellow bellied freak” And then pat me on the back and kiss me on the cheek
Generals 03:37
Had generals in my dreams Knocking on the door and then telling me to let them in Two teams, one was good, one was mean A general came to me in a dream I’m being asked for identity Men squaring up to my family Apply muscle memory Make a break for the door Oh, personal sanctuary! Now everyone I meet They ask the same of me Living out honest lives They ask with stony eyes: “Are you somebody who Makes things happen or who things are just happening to? Have you ever put wheels in spin Or are you always rigor mortis under them?”
Loose End 03:44
They’re chipping away at my workplace With their hammers and chisels and their knives and their scissors They’re carving a totem from the timber pile They’re gonna take it to the press and try to get a rise They made something slim, they think it’s clever They want a pat on the back, “Very impressive!” They’ve cored the pillar, shaved the edge Think they’ve cut enough now, they’ve only left a loose end I’m walking round in my sleep all night I’m seeing figures when I turn out the light I tried to leave but my hands were tied I called for transport and it never arrived I’m pulling lines out of my broken skin Waiting for something I don’t know to begin A strange fruit is the season’s crop Growing on the tip of the thing they cut, a loose end They’re pulling the rug out from under us And when we’re on the ground they don’t help us up They tell us we don’t work nearly hard enough And they know what they’re doing, and they cut and cut A gulf opens and it weakens our resolve We watch as what we hold dissolves Keep a handle, try to keep a focus While our limbs are being severed from us
Bell Curve 02:58
Wild flowers scale the walls But you're on all fours You want to explore the corridors Reach out with your whole body For something we can't see Feel a visceral need To shake hands with the edge of the world An unwise choice, an uttered word Stare up at the softest verge Bell curve Wild flowers scale the walls But you're gonna fall Can't touch them at all Transfer with a little care From the bed to the chair Imprisoned there When I can't look after you I'm looking to nihilists for clues Late at night when I’m thinking of you I’m looking to nihilists for clues Looking for meaning when there's nothing to do When there’s nothing to do, nothing to do, nothing to do…
Blue Slush 02:10
I heard it from you We’re in a space too big for two Still snow on the peaks and every pass we cross You have to wait for me If what you’re saying is true There exists a place too big for two While we were standing there I didn’t know if I could learn to share
You place yourself at the centre Of the universe and I have to watch you spin A miniature in a musical box in a vacuum In soundless atmosphere We grope around in the darkness We grope around and the darkness grips us Now I am miserable too A quiet peace for both of us to swim through I'd like to sink into the atmosphere I would like to disappear I'd like to shrink til I exist no more A pile of clothes on a starry night floor
Mediator 02:11
It went through the mediator Expert negotiator Mindful communicator Went through the mediator Scribbled on a piece of paper Modern telecommunication Peaceful adjudicator Space-time translator Tell her other lover he’s okay for her Through the mediator
Pulp Music 01:31
Doesn’t matter if you like the sound of it Hours later when you can’t stand the thought of it An abstraction of the words That are written on your skull Lesser workings of the mind A corruption of your thoughts, Anagrams of better plans Left to shrivel up and die Little secrets from the void And your colleagues think you’re dull Cos you’re quiet all the time But you’re working on your art! And you can't talk cos you're tired Cos it keeps you up at night Pulp! Music!


Debut album from us. Pulp! Music!


released November 16, 2018

Engineered, mixed and and mastered by John Hannon at NO Recording in Essex.
Design and layout by Caio Wheelhouse.

Neurotic Fiction is Jess, Livi, Rory and Sean.
Thanks to Rosey Brown and Rosie Smith.


all rights reserved




Post punk group spread thin across the wild westcountry.

Cowboy coffee. Graveyard surfari. PULP MUSIC.


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