Wednesday, August 7, 2024

Behind the Lyrics: "Hang On" by Autumn Rhythm

Lyrics:

I'll wait till you believe me

I'll wait until you see

That everything I live for

You bring it out in me


Hang on, I'll call you

Hang on, I'll call you


I'll wait till you believe me

I'll wait until you see

That when I fall, you catch me

And let me down with ease


Hang on, I'll call you

Hang on, I'll call you


Autumn Rhythm released their 3rd album on May 18th. We asked Joey to talk about the story behind this track:

Me and Dusty went on a trip to Philly because I was drumming with Mildly Allergic at this spot called the Underworld. Really fun show, but on the way home Dusty got really insecure for whatever reason, and she texted me the next day about it while on her way home from the train. While I was texting, her I was writing that riff so I just made the lyrics reassuring her she's a really good partner and a really good person and that I love her lots. But it's really general and I like that it could be about anyone to anyone... I made a pact with myself when I started the band that I'd never write a "love" song using the word "love." But that being said it's one of the only Autumn Rhythm songs addressed to one specific person.


Find Autumn Rhythm here:

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Bandcamp

Spotify

Tuesday, June 25, 2024

I was wrong (1/25/24)

Zoe Byszynski

@habitually_a_mess


I was wrong.

I have twenty long branches outside of myself.
They twist around endlessly reaching.
Their fuzzy swirls couldn’t hope to hold you. 
My center is too mushy to stand tall for you.
I swish around and wobble like unset gelatin.
I am encased in this film that leaks and flakes and stretches and smells and burns.
Spikes all over. Growing, reaching out. Breaking?
           Something is bubbling up here, trying to get my attention.
I breathe hot steam.
            Opening and closing to get your attention.
Two empty spots in the middle. Not to look pretty, not to mean anything.

Inside I am glass. I am fragile. I am brittle. I was wrong.


I hear your voice through these loops.

Your voice bounces and bends through my hurdles with ease.

I see your eyes through filters that can’t focus right.

Never as perfect as you.

They ooze when you’re gone.

On my back I fold in half and half again and half and half.

I will not be strong. I can not learn. I won’t.

Spots consume me, mapping what I wish to let go.


Please tame me. I am wrong.


I can never cover it up. 

I will hide it. Alone and well. Alone and good? Alone and… Alone.


Sometimes I wish… I pray to sail on a boat far away.

Where no ocean could ever cast my reflection.

No cave could echo my voice.

No wind would feel my breath.

No way that it could ever get back to you.


I will sit on the dock because I know this boat is coming.

I don’t know when.

But I know it will find me and I’d rather not be surprised.


If I had more to conceal, I’d have more to pack.

I am sorry for all I’ve taken. 

All the time.

I will try to be quick in my voyage.

To vanish beyond the horizon swiftly.


I was wrong to pick you. I was wrong to burden you.

I am sorry to have knocked on your mind. I don’t wish to stay longer than I’m welcome.

I hope you meet someone with a nose just as keen.

I hope you meet someone with a smile just as wide.

I hope you meet someone with eyes just as sparkling.

I know you will meet someone with beauty as great as your own.


You are… you… you…


You have stained my life. I will not try to clean the residue.

In my mind I will be holding your hand the way you like.

Cooking what you are hungry for.

Throwing out whatever you want to let go.

Forget me with the same ease you met me. Let me waddle away and keep your head held high.


And soon you will pass me like every other stranger on the street.

Gag when you see me at the park.

Scowl when I pass you in the store.

Shove me as I stand still.


Treat me wrong. Treat me the way I deserve.

To Henry, Crane, and “those who jumped”

Zoe Byszynski

@habitually_a_mess


The dying sun sank to the west “cast
your indifferent rays upon the earth”

I walked out into the yard.

Hearing of my Uncle’s termination,

I became convinced of my own extinction.

To die by a heartache devoutly wished,

who would bear the love of the unworthy

and sweat after death?

I stopped about halfway across.

Two graceful faces looking upwards.

Begging, “baby bury me in Belfast

because that’s the only place my body belongs!”


Artist Note:

He snuck over the Canadian border.

He was deported.

He came back.

He was an alcoholic.

He’d been an alcoholic.

He had problems with his wife.

His second wife?

After their kid died young.

Drowned?

He had two more kids.

One studied psychology,

my mom told me. 

He had problems with his wife.

She might’ve reported him.

They both were undocumented.

He was the only one home when ICE detained him,

conveniently.

He was an alcoholic.

He came back

but he didn't let his shoes touch the ground.


They always say my father looked like him,

Except without the handlebar mustache.

They always say I look like my father.

My mom told me.

My father tells me very little.