Kate-you're walking through a Circle K, and all your circumstances have changed, but you'll still read every spot the convex mirrors and cameras reach. It's muscle memory. It's just what happens when your difficulties go on so long. All the habits remain after they've all gone. You were saving up money for a surgery that she needs. Skimming off the till at the sunglass kiosk. Making fake receipts, while I was stealing every word that I heard you uttering. Thieves among honour, aligned to each other, with pockets both picked clean. Oh, Kate: I betray you constantly, I adjust your pain to fit a melody; compress your time into platitudes produced to crudely rhyme. And you rarely ever say a word, though I know these things must hurt. I guess you relate to me moving things from column A to column B. Chorus. You were saving up money for a surgery that she needs. Skimming off the till at the sunglass kiosk. Making fake receipts. And you were developing a food stamp scam so you could feed a pair of punks sleeping in your front hall closet that appeared randomly. You did a seven-point dive into the dumpster of the bakery. Hauling back bags in your bicycle basket, deeking out police. You were forging signatures at a chain-store pharmacy. Thieves among honour, aligned to each other, with pockets both picked clean.
The New York artist uses addictive pop hooks and melancholic, baroque electronics to reframe her recent traumas into an empowering narrative of growth and transformation Bandcamp Album of the Day Oct 13, 2021