Don't Believe The Hyperreal

by Ariel Sharratt & Mathias Kom

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  • Don't Believe The Hyperreal - Compact Disc
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    Comes in a gatefold case with lyrics booklet and collage by Ariel Sharratt.

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  • Limited edition 12" vinyl.
    Record/Vinyl

    12" limited edition LP from Headless Owl records on 180 gram vinyl so black you will think it is a black hole. But no, it's just a black circle, and not dangerous at all.

    Comes with a lyric sheet and album art designed by the one and only Ariel Sharratt. Hand-numbered edition of 200.

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credits

released November 27, 2015

Ariel Sharratt: vocals, clarinet, sax, bass pedals
Mathias Kom: vocals, guitar, bass, bass harmonica
with:
Stanley Brinks: vocals, ocarina
Freschard: vocals
Daniel Nentwig: keys

Recorded at Butterama in Berlin by Norman Nitzsche, mixed by Norman as well. Mastered by Bo Kondren at Calyx.

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The Burning Hell

The Burning Hell is the alter-ego of Canadian songwriter Mathias Kom, and consists of him plus Ariel Sharratt (clarinet), Nick Ferrio (bass), and Darren Browne (guitar).

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Track Name: What You Want
Keep me away from youth and spicy foods
I’m in another one of my moods
I feel like the last of the old-time druids
While all the young dudes carry the news
Back to Rome that we’ve all been subdued

But then you remind me that you can’t keep a good druid down
And that’s a slogan I can rally around
So let’s put on our pants and head into town
Let’s get as blurry as an ultrasound
Roll around on the greens of the golf course, if we can sneak onto the grounds

I know what you want
I know what you want
You know I know what you want
I know you know I know what you want

I got used to the sound of your old stereo
With one channel nearly blown
I heard that crackle as a glow
And without it I don’t know
How the music is really supposed to go

‘Cause I liked the Beatles as just a vocals and bass guitar band
And I’m l like Inigo:
Searching the world for a six-fingered man
I’ve got a purpose but I don’t have a plan
So when you offered me your six-fingered hand
Track Name: Fuck The Government, I Love You
We met at the New Years Party of my vegetarian friend.
I said I was studying English, I told you I was in a band
I asked what the band was called, I said it’s called The Burning Hell
I said I’ve never heard of you, I said that’s probably just as well

Just to make conversation I told you about a dream I had in which Jean Baudrillard was rapping with Public Enemy
Shouting “don’t believe the hyperreal” with Flava Flav and Chuck D
And I said I think we might have a lot in common then, possibly,
Because I’m also a musician and also a student of hip-hoposophy

You mentioned you used to play the clarinet in high school in the early years of the millennium when you were young
And you said you’re hired, the pay is negligible, and the tour starts next month
You asked what I was working on, I said I’m writing an album of love songs
I laughed and said love songs are dumb, and I said oh yeah, wait til you hear these ones

Pass the wine, fuck the government, I love you
Three statements overheard at once in the crowded room
But I could not be sure which one had come from you
So I passed you the wine and said yes, fuck the government, I love you too.

Though neither of us are accomplished dancers we danced a little bit
My vegetarian friend was playing the hits of Will Smith, and we got jiggy with it
There on the dance floor, the living room dance floor, that’s when it happened
You stole my heart, I stole a kiss, we stole someone else’s gin by accident

At some point we got cornered by an amateur poet neither of us knew
Either he had no one else to talk to or just couldn’t pick up simple social cues
Step by step we backed away until we backed up all the way into the bathroom together
We told the poet that we always go together ‘cause that’s what happens when you’ve been dating forever

We stayed in there for ages hoping the amateur poet would go, it was awkward
We came out and found he’d discovered someone else to bother,
And suddenly it was midnight and auld lang syne time and countdowns and gratuitous public making out
And we started shouting because everyone else was shouting and isn’t it fun to shout?
Track Name: Somebody To Duet With
Like a canary without a coal-mine
I’m dying just for something to do
There’s nothing on the TV
Except the news

I put one leg of my pants on
Then I sit back down again
But volcanoes are still volcanoes
In the rain

I want to go out dancing
And in the morning plead the fifth
I want to do something I can’t pronounce
I want to find somebody to do it with

My agenda’s wide open
I’ve got Enya in my headphones
Carve the words to Orinoco Flow
In my headstone

I’d sail away, sail way, sail away
With the fishes and the birds
I’d describe the feeling
But I can’t find the words

I’m sure there’s a term in German
And maybe one or two in Spanish
But I want to feel that feeling
I want to find somebody to feel it with

I’m singing lonely karaoke
All they have in the book is The Smiths
But I want Kenny and Dolly
I want to find somebody to duet with
Track Name: Every Song I Sing Is For You
I know this may provoke skepticism and doubt
But I pay the rent with the sounds from my mouth
And I may not be much of a singer, it’s true
But every song I sing is for you.

Every song I sing is for you.
Every song I sing is for you.
It’s not for him or for her to listen to.
Every song I sing is for you.

My clothes are a mess and my lips are thin
But I’ll curl the hairs on your head, straighten the ones on your chin
And if you ever go bald I’ll just be closer to your ear
And these are the words you’ll hear:

Every song I sing is for you.
Every song I sing is for you.
It’s something you’ll just have to get used to.
Every song I sing is for you.

You heard what Helen’s face did to those Trojan ships?
That’s nothing compared to what I can do with my lips
When I wrap them around a chorus or two
And I’ll sing until my lips turn blue

Every song I sing is for you.
Every song I sing is for you.
I don’t sing for reviewers or reviews.
Every song I sing is for you.

Some say the French are the masters of amour
And I tip my hat to Brinks, Freschard and Gainsbourg
But the flavour of the day is anglais
So encore une fois, repeter

Every song I sing is for you.
Every song I sing is for you.
Every song I sing, c’est pour vous
Every song I sing is for you.
Track Name: The Love That Treats You Right
Let’s be honest: you know I’ve had regrets, I’ve made mistakes
Treated love like it was a paper towel and I had chocolate on my face
But it’s the love that treats you right
(That deserves a cheer)
It’s the love that treats you nice
(That’s worth future tears)
It’s the love that treats you right
That’s love in the first place.

Let’s be frank my dear, I think it’s best we call it quits
I don’t think you listen or like me that much
But I’ll miss your cute sweater jackets

It’s the love that treats you right
(That turns me on)
It’s the love that treats you nice
(That’s going, going, gone)
It’s the love that treats you right
You can break up and still be friends.

Friends, it’s the love that treats you well
(That deserves a cheer)
It’s the love that gives back
(That’s worth future tears)
It’s the love that treats you right
That’s love in the first place.
Track Name: Your Military
There was no moon the night your brother crashed the car near Knox’s Dam
No drugs, no booze, just dumb black ice and minor scrapes and some whiplash
But your beautiful neck has been funny since then, though you had it fixed by Sibsi’s dad
I am here to protect you now;
I was not then and I wish I had

Now I’ll be your ambulance and your doctor
I’ll be your paramedic team
No need to telephone a hotline
You just need to telephone me

Me, me, me

You were just six when you were sent to the corner store all on your own
You had a list: milk, eggs and bread; you felt so grown-up two blocks from home
Then you froze as a man burst in with a knife to the throat of Mrs. Kim
With his hands in the cash he stared and he grinned and told you to forget about him

Now I’ll be your vigilante
I’ll be your police
No need to telephone a mountie
You just need to telephone me

Me, me, me

You fought a war when you were young against all things lame, dull and unfair
You were outnumbered and outgunned with blood on your boots and mud in your hair

I’ll be your rebel forces
Your guerillas and your mercenaries
You don’t need your military
Now that you have me

Me, me, me
Track Name: In The Future
Thank you for the Christmas card.
It’s cute the way the chihuahua is dressed like a reindeer,
And as you say, ‘Feliz Naughty Dog’ is a caption worthy of a modern Spanish Shakespeare.
But it’s only been ten years or so—can you really have forgotten I’m a Jew?
So Xmas means as much to me as the story of the Maccabees means to you

Truth be told I don’t particularly mind which religious observance is on your mind
It’s nice to hear from you and to hear about your new job too but I find this kind
Of communication barely one step up from looking at photos of your kids on the Internet
Am I nostalgic for the past?
No, I think I’m nostalgic for things that haven’t happened yet

In the future anything could be real that’s the thing about it
In the future it might be a whole new deal and our lives much less crowded
In the future we might get the chance to talk more than twice a year
In the future we’ll have some space to walk, and space is the final frontier

Sometimes my heart beats louder than ten thousand pelican wings
As they fly over the ocean just to turn around and fly back again
What’s the point in birds? Somewhere there’s a pelican wondering what’s the point in us
And that’s a relevant point the pelican brings up, maybe it’s one we should discuss

These days we’ve got other places to be, and other people to see, well especially you, and maybe not so much me
But anyway say, just for the sake of saying, that things might change, they have a way of changing
For instance, I’ve compiled some pictures here on my external hard-drive:
I’ve pasted our faces on the cover of this sci-fi book called Lovers In The Year 2055

In the future we’ll sing a whole new tune I really wouldn’t doubt it
In the future the sky might have two moons when it’s not too clouded
In the future who knows where we’ll be we might be neighbours on Mars
Watching our old planet disappear, playing shows in the Martian bars

Delete, delete, and keep deleting. I’ll start again: Season’s greetings and happy new year.
Thanks for the Christmas card, it’s cute the way the chihuahua is dressed like a reindeer.
Track Name: Eugene & Maurice
Maurice said I like these chords,
They remind me of you in the fifties walking with me by the shore. 
I didn’t think they made chords like these anymore. 

Eugene didn’t reply, but he was more of a listener than a talker.
Actually, they both sometimes felt talking was awkward,
Which was odd for a psychoanalyst, but maybe not for an illustrator slash author.

And no one suspected
They had wildness in their hearts
But they would go dancing
Where the wild things are

Well Eugene was preoccupied worrying about TV
Its constant availability, its desperate necessity
But Maurice said “Eugene, that’s exactly what you are for me”

It was a joke, though: Maurice preferred books to television
Which was good, 'cause books were how he made his living.
Books for kids, although he famously claimed that he didn’t write for children

And they would sit on the rooftop
Under all of those stars
Just saying nothing
Where the wild things are

Fifty years melted away faster than April snow. 
They both got older, Eugene got sick first, though.
Maurice took his hand and said “please don’t go.”

After that, every second dragged by like months,
Until at last the monsters came for one final stunt.
He stared into their yellow eyes and he didn’t blink once.

There will always be monsters
And little boys and little girls
But now there’s a hole in the world
Where the wild things were

Love is a fearless and unkillable beast.
And Maurice loved Eugene,
and Eugene loved Maurice.