Jeff The Brotherhood - "Mind Ride"

Buddy, you're getting pretty drunk. You look like you're at sea, a bit. Like, the sea on valium. You're eyes are like clotheslines, you could hang a sweater from that stare. You talk like you're already throwing up, like you're afraid the words might slip back down your throat. You're checking your pockets for your consonants. You're holding a speaker up to one ear like a pillow or an important call. You're dismissing everyone for offenses they haven't committed, you're flitting your wrist in such a way I can't tell if you think we're snobs or whether you're being a snob. I think even your clothes want to get away from you, and by the looks of things, you're starting to think you'll help them. You're poking the fire, you're whacking a tree with a stick, you're yelling like you just invented yelling. You're talking about swimming and everyone is just trying to be quiet to see if you can still be affected by your surroundings. You're on the diving board, and you're looking at the water, and now you're hovering above the water. The lights of the pool are blue, they're lighting your face from below, as you're hovering there in mid-air, and..oh. You're a demon. Okay, you're a demon. My bad. It's all good. Good times. [Heavy Days drops mid-Oct but Buy buy buy Jeff's old releases, powerful stuff]

Little Birdy - "Brother"

While standing in a walk-in closet, I started to lose all perspective. When I came out I was as tall as mountains and as small as penny candy. Everything seemed in reach, as close as anything else, sometimes so close that it felt like it was pushed up against the glass window of my eyes, and would just pour into my head. It felt as if with each inhalation I was breathing in all the air in the world and then giving it back with every exhalation. Clouds rubbed against my eyebrows and I would check for fluff, puddles felt like they would run like tears down my cheeks, fences and ladders became the same thing, ceilings and floors could only be told apart by which was cleaner. The refrigerator can often seem like another world, a desolate ice prison, each item in its own tupperware cell. The bookshelf like a multicoloured forest, the carpet like a giant field of red grass, the couch like a piece of doll's furniture. It's horrible, pictures and people are very hard to tell apart. Sometimes when we sit in silence too long, I forget. [Buy]

(photo by riø)