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by Hussalonia

I will admit that I’m hoping you’ll be mauled by a bear. Oh my, have I mistaken you for the cause of my despair? It’s harder to detect wrong when the call is coming within. I’m trying to be a better person, but where do I begin? Must I rise above the human instinct? I must! I must! I don’t have to believe in a god I trust.
Like a stupid dog that’s happy to be commanded. Just tell me what to do to be happy empty handed. I am wanting to not want. Estate is feeling false, like real estate for rent. All these little thoughts adrift in products and programmed content. I am wanting to not want. Grateful for that which oppresses us, the white male speaker addresses us. He says, live in fear if you want to be free. I say, people over economy. I’m the wolf at the door, I swallow my fangs to kill all my cravings and my hunger pangs. I want to eat my words, till I’m sick of the sound. I want to get so lost, that I cannot be found. I'm bottomless when my desire is bated. I can’t be satisfied, only agitated. If I could only say no for awhile, I just know, I know, there’s pleasure in denial. I insist I must resist accepting all assumptions. See me balancing production and consumption. I am wanting to not want.
Suffer Alone 02:55
Science says you can’t build a perpetual motion machine. Art says, “Hey, look over here. I’m the next best thing.” One little dream won’t be believed if it never leaves the bed from which it was conceived. We’re all adding and subtracting from the dreams of the dead. Music is smarter than we know, part trick and part myth, or some kind of ancient magic that we let fools dick around with. Get a little lost. Are you star-crossed? Tell me, what do you think? I’m feeling like a cat in a box with nothing but poison to drink. You may not be able to stop your suffering, but you don’t have to suffer alone. Loss is constant, lost in current. My record collection is a museum of pain. Oh, how this morning, I wished I were dead. Now I just can't get enough of this life. You may not be able to stop your suffering, but you don’t have to suffer alone.
Snake, snake, snake in the grass. I’m gonna step on your ass. I will tread upon you. Let me introduce you to my shoe.
Radicals 02:05
I lit the fuse, you say, not the bomb. I pulled a trigger; didn't shoot no gun, no, no. Cause and effect applies to your free speech. Don’t confuse your rights with your privilege. Oh, how love is a radical act. Empathy is a radical act. Understanding is a radical act. Education is a radical act. All these dudes who really love their guns: it’s not a show of strength but evidence of fear. Reduce the causes and you’ll reduce crime. Those are people below your thin blue line. Oh, how peace is a radical act. Your forgiveness is a radical act. And yes, patience is a radical act. Caring for others is a radical act. You say, time is money, but life has no worth. It begins at conception and quickly ends at birth. Change is constant and we choose what to conserve. Who can change faster, the people or the earth? Responsibility is a radical act. Selflessness is a radical act. Speaking up is a radical act, but listening is also a radical act.
Team Player 02:45
There are no feral citizens. The question lies in what we will tolerate. It’s preposterous to think that you’re that original, the one-in-seven-billion individual. Attention shoppers, pick one, yes or no. This is how we entertain the illusion of choice. We’re off the rack and factory-fit, filled with predictable responses, and every one of us are born deserving dignity. But you’re not a good team player. You’re not a good team player. The only thing we can really own is our own behavior. We're all born in the red, and the meaning of life is to die in black. Oh, the arguments I have when I’m alone, in my head with imaginary people. For what you'll sell at such a low price, It's surprising what you're not willing to sacrifice. But you’re not a good team player. You’re not a good team player. The only thing we can really own is our own behavior.
There once was a nation in crisis, forced to be alone in thought. What are we supposed to do if there’s nowhere to spend our money? Who are we supposed to be if we can’t be employees? What’s the value of statistical life? What’s your acceptable sacrifice? Freedom exists but not for the living. No, it’s not for the living at all. Giving is not for getting. Taking is not for giving. Look at all we did before you. Look at all we’ve left to do. Freedom exists, but it's not for the living. No, it’s not for the living at all.
[growling by actual bears]
We’re getting it wrong again. It seems the missteps never end, but then so do we defend getting it wrong again. Every solution has its faults, through grains of time and grains of salt. The disbelief that we’ll suspend when we’re getting it wrong again. Preventative care versus damage control, treating symptoms instead of the disease. The ideas that cause pain, the suffering and deeds inhumane, they do the job that you intend, but you’re getting it wrong again.
Another Kid 03:30
I spent my youth following underdogs and rebels. Now I feel like a squirrel who spent the fall stowing away pebbles. I used to have a plan. Now I have a preventative measure. I used to be gold. Now I’m your sunken treasure. True, winning is not all that interesting, but choosing loss is just stupid and cruel. You’re not the only one who questions every little rule. I guess I’m your teacher, but I feel like just another kid in school. You think you have the answers. Well, show your work. We might be doomed to be products of our time, but it's time itself that we have the power change.
We’re rugged individuals, brave and free, skeptical, violent, and unyielding, but we were raised this way, so it can't be wrong, unless, of course, it was all along. What do we do now? Time marches on. We march around. What do we do now? Change is inevitable. Please tell us how.
I may be overqualified to live, crushed under the weight of all the fucks I give. My pain is no longer personal; it’s political; it’s universal. But when it’s dark, you’ve got to be the light, and when evil’s got you down, you’ve got to fight. Black death and white silence. How to end taxpayer-funded violence? I think of everything worth preserving in this life. Meanwhile, stupidity and fear are found in endless supply. And if you let them, some will mine these resources for their own designs and dedicate their power to the preservation of those very resources.
Admittedly 04:35
Admittedly, my grip on life is loose. Nothing's guaranteed except this truth: When death arrives, he'll spare no cost. All that you have will be all that you lost. The self is a program, that for a limited time, runs with some degree of predictability. Violence and fear, illusions all around. With regularity, I ask the elevator to bring me down. Oh, you and I, we aren’t so different. Two hopeless mortals, numerically insignificant. For an abundance of riches we have not earned, what service do you have to offer in return? Admittedly, my grip on life is loose. “This world is not my home. I’m just passing through.” The value of ideas can be measured in love. Live to be a thought worth thinking of.
Husk Life 02:45
Who made you boss and we died? Me too, she said. Me first, he replied. Compromised reality. Candy-coated truth. If this ends in tragedy, it’s fair to say we willed it so. Living the husk life. Permissible transgressions. If it's bad to be spit upon, then it's bad to spit. Disposable people building disposable goods. Where does your disposable wealth go? Whose story does it fund? Is there a way we can cultivate noble appetites? We've got to get a job because we've got to get paid so that we can afford all the things we made. Living the husk life. I reject your dream of exclusion and denial, where the best things come to those who were born with them. We’re all prisoners of ideas, justifying means. If you manage to escape, another cell awaits.


The phrase “exit, pursued by a bear,” from Shakespeare’s THE WINTER’S TALE, is perhaps the most confounding stage direction in the English literary canon. The unpredictable and somewhat flippant introduction of a fatal threat seemed painfully relevant in the summer of 2020, the summer in which these songs were written. It was the summer of social distance and anxiety, of anger and fear. For too many, personal freedoms were troublingly more important than a sense of responsibility for others. A pandemic! An inept, despotic president! The fall of democracy! Rampant conspiracy theories! White supremacy! Police in riot gear! Destructive wildfires! Murder hornets! Anything could happen, and all of it was sure to pursue and destroy us. It still might.

That was the catalyst for these songs, shored by a desire to connect with others who felt similarly disillusioned, a desire to be a better person, to live a more meaningful life in a society that rewards superficiality and selfish hedonism. Oh well. It's still just pop music made by a person alone in a basement.

The recording slowly happened over the winter of ‘20-'21 with the Hussalonia Founder playing all the instruments himself in his home studio. The album was mixed and mastered in the spring of 2021, then remixed and remastered in the fall of 2022.

— Dolores DeCabeza, Head of Nefarico™ Public Relations


released July 7, 2021

All songs were written, performed, and produced by The Hussalonia Founder, with the exception of the song "Exit, Pursued By a Bear," which features the growls of actual bears.

Cover art by The Hussalonia Founder.

© 2021 BMI




Hussalonia Buffalo, New York

Hussalonia is largely the work of a multi-instrumentalist known only as The Hussalonia Founder.

Founded in 1997, Hussalonia is a "pop music cult" and claims to be owned by Nefarico™, a fictional soap company.

The Hussalonia Founder lives and works in Buffalo, New York.
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