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Don't Believe The Hyperreal

by Ariel Sharratt & Mathias Kom

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Travis Button
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Travis Button Fuck The Goverment for sure, and maybe I love you... Haven't decided yet. Favorite track: Fuck The Government, I Love You.
Boo Hoo
Boo Hoo thumbnail
Boo Hoo The best duets you'll get this or any other year.
"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" is also the best lyric you'll get this year. I'm so thrilled with this record! Favorite track: In The Future.
Jeremy / HI54LOFI
Jeremy / HI54LOFI thumbnail
Jeremy / HI54LOFI the chorus on “Fuck The Government…” is one of the best choruses you'll ever hear (and the rest of the album is a charm offensive waged at peak charm) Favorite track: Fuck The Government, I Love You.
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  • Limited edition 12" vinyl.
    Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    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.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Don't Believe The Hyperreal via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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1.
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
2.
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?
3.
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
4.
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.
5.
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.
6.
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
7.
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.
8.
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.

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 ongoing musical project of songwriter Mathias Kom and multi-instrumentalists Ariel Sharratt and Jake Nicoll, often including additional comrades and collaborators.

Their densely populated genre-shifting songs are packed with an abundance of literary, historical, cultural, and pop-cultural forebears, heroes and villains, subjects and objects, stories and hooks.
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