Domesticoma

by Hussalonia

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credits

released August 20, 2015

All songs written and performed by the Hussalonia founder.
© 2015 BMI
Executive Producer: Shep Huntleigh
Artwork: Captain Blanqueador

LINER NOTES:
Let it be known that the Hussalonia founder is a mere mortal, and as mortals are wont to do, he is getting older. Two years in the making, Domesticoma is an album of sugarcoated pop songs about aging and domestic ennui. Why did this take two years? Well, if you care to know, here’s the story. The Hussalonia founder stopped making music in 2011, right after his first daughter was born. A year later, he recorded two albums — the lo-fi Whitney Elizabeth Hussalonia album and the contractual Nefarico™ Jingles collection. Then, two more daughters were born. With three children under the age of three in the house, the founder realized he needed to start making music in order preserve his sense of identity. In 2013, he wrote and recorded Double Fantasy and Home Taping Is Killing Me. The latter sessions were fast and reckless, resulting in over 30 total songs. (Most of the songs not included on the album ended up on 2015’s Edward Everett Hussalonia.) It felt good to knock out scruffy pop songs, but he yearned for a more disciplined approach. With his creative drive back, he started working on several albums concurrently: Slefless [sic], Hissalonia Volume 2, Hussalonia Versus Time, Dictation Poem #1, and Domesticoma. The only album completed in 2014 was Slefless [sic] (and the “soundtrack” to the Live in the Subterranean Headquarters web series… but that doesn’t count). He continued to work on the other albums as time allowed. In 2015, not only did all of the above-mentioned albums get completed, but the Hussalonia founder also wrote and recorded The Somewhat Surprising Return of Nefarico™ Jingles and (the still unreleased) Dogdammit. While it’s true that the founder seems to have found a way to balance domestic and creative life, both lives benefit and suffer as a result of the other… and that’s what Domesticoma is about. It’s an adult record, one that reminisces and questions and bitches. And now that it’s done, it’s on to the next one. Thanks for listening! - Shep Huntleigh

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Hussalonia Buffalo, New York

Hussalonia is pop music cult owned by Nefarico™. Pop does not mean popular.

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Track Name: How to Fell a Tree
All I can do is keep writing myself away.
It's like I barely exist.
I say, "I don't give a fuck,"
but I think I say it a little too much,
revealing just how many fucks I give.
Spending a lifetime building a personal hell,
a little place where I can resist.
The insensitive thoughts of your youth,
your irrational outbursts of truth,
living out the things you said that you'd never do.
This is how to fell a tree.
Now I'm speaking your language,
still thinking in my native tongue,
acing like a man my age,
just as clueless as the young.
Track Name: 7f12u
I've been better but never been my best.
Going nowhere and always not at rest.
Never doing the only thing I love to do.
7f12u
Time and toil has weakened all the seams.
You wake up wrong and forget your dreams.
It looks like I am only passing through.
7f12u
The most likely to succeed turned out to take plan B.
Listen to me complain about my wonderful life with you.
7f12u
Track Name: Lead a Horse
Here I go around the bend,
embracing hope like it's some long lost friend.
I play to win but I play against myself.
A winsome face lost some mental health.
You can lead a horse to knowledge, but you just can't make him think.
Listen to my thoughts running out of room.
If I speak my mind, well then I'll speak too soon.
A mercy beating ends in broken bones.
See all that mossy rock gathering rolling stones.
You can lead a horse to knowledge, but you just can't make him think.
Direction is too easy to lose and quitting is just so easy to choose.
I make it all up as I go.
If I have an answer, I'll be the last to know.
If you've got no cred, well then you can't take charge.
See all of these small minds living large.
Led by loss and desire,
a curious forest following fire.
You can lead a horse to knowledge, but you just can't make him think.
Track Name: Pain Conquers All
Plagued by self-doubt and insecurity.
Can't have a voice without making a sound.
Every sound mars the silent purity.
Another song, another inch in the ground.
I'm not sane enough to be normal.
I'm not crazy enough to be genius.
I'm too married to be hormonal.
It's too late to be somebody.
I'm too damaged to be daring.
This will never amount to anything,
but then I'm used to being cool and no one caring.
Plagued by self-doubt and insecurity.
What do I care? My genius is likely behind me.
The absence of love filled with unfortunate self-pity.
Contrary to popular belief, pain conquers all.
Track Name: Punk Rock Girl on the Back of the Bus
I thought you were hot.
You thought I was gay.
You were three years older than me anyway.
I wonder where you are.
I can't remember your name.
I wonder if you'd like me now.
I wonder if you still look the same.
Punk rock girl on the back of the bus, I love you still.
I've got a house and a white collar job,
happily married with three little kids.
I wonder if you still listen to The Exploited.
Track Name: The Sound of Young America
Motor brigade to the old motor town.
Sorry, Smokey, but there's no place left to shop around.
To compose or decompose, that is the question.
Roll over Chuck Berry, Clear Channel has another suggestion.
I miss you, M. Reeves.
Under the logo on the inner sleeve...
Are we still young America?
Teach it to the young: you were born to be free.
Now you've just raised a nation forever destined to disagree.
Freedom's just another word for chaos
that gets packaged and sold by those who can afford the pay off.
You've got the wrong kind of freedom if you're asking me:
guns and religion and unregulated industry.
(You can give me more free time.)
Give me the freedom to breathe clean air,
the freedom not to be advertised to everywhere.
Spirit of '76, now who's the revolt betwixt?
Are we still young America?
Track Name: Play the B-Side
When I was younger I would never say,
"I can't reach you."
Now I'm older and I lost my way.
I can't reach you.
How I wish you were around to help me get my feet on the ground.
Are you feeling down?
Play the B-side now.
Are you really down?
Play the B-side now.
Get the tape, let it roll, hear it mend my plastic soul.
Track Name: Barely Doing This
This donor will give, slide himself right under the knife.
I do not want to not live, but I can't take another day of my life.
"Dream on until your dreams come true."
I dreamt on 'til that's all I knew how to do.
Won't you lend me an ear? Then go away, I'll do the rest myself.
I'm only here because I just want to impress myself.
To be hungry is to be alive.
Never trust anyone who isn't starving all the time.
I'm barely doing this, but I'm barely doing this well.
Life's like a sugar pill; it's not gonna work unless you think it will.
I'm gonna see it through, or I'm gonna say it until I think it's true.
I'm barely doing this, but I'm barely doing this well.
Track Name: Avaunt!
I'm not in the audience anymore.
Still, you perform, perform, perform.
Concessionary extraordinary achievement —
preferring function over form.
You think you're immune.
Well, you're just a dull knife in a drawer full of spoons.
Avaunt! Avaunt! Avaunt!
What in the world could the world want?
Avaunt! Avaunt! Avaunt!
What in the world could the world want?
There's a picture of a wooden floor on the floor
and plastic wood grain upon the door.
One nation under imitation culture,
sitting on disposable furniture.
I must've died in the wool.
Everything is just so terrible.
Avaunt! Avaunt! Avaunt!
What in the world could the world want?
Avaunt! Avaunt! Avaunt!
What in the world could the world want?
Track Name: Leaning Into Chaos
I used to be explosive.
I used to be on fire.
I used to consume myself with desire.
But now I'm calmly thinking about chaos,
harmlessly flirting with chaos,
safely leaning into chaos with you.
I used to be immortal.
I used to harness flight.
Now I just want a place to stay every night
while I'm slightly dreaming about chaos,
casually eyeing up chaos,
lightly leaning into chaos with you.
It's better to have a troubled mind that's well behaved
than to be in trouble dreaming of being saved.
Tell me more about destruction.
Tell me I'm all alone.
Tell me all these awful things in my suburban home.
Because I'm only considering chaos, safely slouching towards chaos, living down the street from chaos with you.