[STATE OF SOUND] New Artists Soundcast #5: Retro Culture, Scholar, SOS, Carmella
STATE OF SOUND is a feature on The Sights and Sounds where we select new electronically focused bands/artists (Either Soundcloud/Facebook followers < 3000) and bring their best songs to light. Getting traction on blogs can be a pain in the ass if you don’t already have a connection in, but we happen to think there’s a whole sea of bands waiting to be discovered. Selection for these’Soundcasts’ is highly selective on quality only, as we want to help select the next set of blogosphere buzz bands. So we hope you’ll share this list with your friends to give these artists the exposure they deserve and return once new sets pop up.
RETRO CULTURE// “DIGITAL”. Touch me and feel all the kinetic energy rush up my veins. Trace your hand up my basilic vein, flirting maliciously with the brachial artery that carried blood out of my heart, but left my hand dead to the touch of others for six years. My heart, its been running so love resource poor, I’m afraid its going to either explode or if we break up I’m going to need some methadone to counteract the addiction to your kisses. Totally worth it, I don’t give two fucks about that. Even as I know you’re totally going to let me down. Wake up in my bed and pack your suitcase as you pack it in me, and lock all your baggage up as we lock lips. I just want to feel the rush of ‘Retro Culture’s synths expanding lungs that were oxygen poor and a mind cascading to life that was on the verge of stroking out on itself for the fun of it.
FOLLOW RETRO CULTURE ON SOUNDCLOUD.
SCHOLAR//”SKIN” Your skin is sumptuous: the smell, it alights the nerves in my brain. And I know we’re all reduced to fucking pheromones when we fuck in the end; but I want to be a scholar, a biochemist to know what it is about you that leeches all of this liquid from my body in hot and heavy throes that continue all the night long. I’d blow a Stanford scientist, become a Nobel Prize committee escort all to learn the trade secrets of the way your epidermis upon mine turns us into a little nuclear reaction of wonder that’s safely exploded a good eight times tonight. I’m high in the clouds of these beats and it doesn’t take a goddamn atmosphericist to know I’m going to come crashing down. Because like in this song as in this feeling, there are no words to launch a warning, to articulate anything.
FOLLOW SCHOLAR ON SOUNDCLOUD.
SOS// “DEAD OR ALIVE.” Let’s go get drunk and make love. I’m getting a little sloppy. I’m asking you to love me a little more, to take the pain away. And I never do that because it’s a fool’s errands for those sops that want to end up stranded Gravity style, circling around the husk of the planet they once frolicked on. You are planet hopping to the whole other side of the world when the sun rises; and I know that, because we fucked on your one way ticket the very first time. It was never part of our agreement for you to care if I’m alive or dead you were just supposed to watch my lips move, that was enough. My safety, that’s my purview, it’s the control I have as I continue down this life without you in t-minus one more trip to the moon on my bed. And as it’s happening I pull myself into the safety of the Mad Men quote here and become the Planet Earth, tiny and unprotected, surrounded by darkness.
FOLLOW SOS ON SOUNDCLOUD
CARMELLA// “THE WILD” We are the Wild, the wanted, the soulful, the brave. And I’m coming down now: I was right, it was worth it. You’re crossing bridges in Pittsburgh or Petrovsko, Croatia–fuck, I don’t know, my mind knew it was on such a hopeless high speed chase after your heart to reel the rush in with your itinerary . But I’m not swinging, shouting off of bridges–even though I’m brave enough to do it, to walk myself back not in pieces. Sure, I’m shot and strangled by the sheets on this bed I wrap around my neck, smelling the spots your scent catcalls, the splashes of your skin cells that still light a fire in my soul. And I’ll, like Carmella, wait for you–not you persay–but what you can do for me. I steered off into the void and I was man enough to take the weakness in tow, because even though I’m one of the Wild, I can also be wanted, still be soulful, and fuck yes–boast of bravery. And that, is an experiment I’ll wear in the scars of every arm hair that was electrified, every bit of beard you scraped your heart and lips against. And I can’t brush it off, I can’t sweep or trim you away, you’ll just come fucking back. Welcome to my DNA.
FOLLOW CARMELLA ON SOUNDCLOUD.