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Pop Does Not Mean Popular: A Polite Introduction to Hussalonia (2004​-​2014)

by Hussalonia

Hussalonia. Hussalonia. Pop does not mean popular for Hussalonia.
Oh baby, please surrender. Let's go quietly. We'll hold our questions. We'll hold our fire. You don't have to explain a thing. I know the dreams of young Americans have short wicks that make for good show. But they're not brilliant, they're just burning brilliantly. There's a difference, don't you know? You'll never be famous. You'll never be a millionaire. There's just a few of us who love what you do. And we do. Last week I couldn't sleep. I've been worrying a lot about somethings. I finally got up and I put on that CD and listened, listened in the dark. And for that night, for that hour, you were the best thing that ever happened to me. And in the morning I felt tired and hopeless and worried all over again. You'll never be famous. You'll never be a millionaire. There's just a few of us who love what you do. And so you do.
Shading in the white squares of a checkered past. A black canvas in relief, yeah I’ve got to laugh. ‘Cuz now that you’ve all fallen away, history is mine to rewrite. Did I leave you left for dead or was it suicide? Should I paint you out completely or paint you at my side? ‘Cuz now that you’ve all drifted away, history is mine to rewrite. I’ll get you where I want, in or out of my mind. History is mine to rewrite
Choking on chalk dust, oxidation and rust. An iron feeling in a tooth. A cavity filled with truth. If a river runs through it, it's worthy to pursue it. Can you see the daydreams in my eyes? Opium for molasses. A public school kid in religion classes. Give me something sweet and slow and meaningless. Words that mean nothing, but are pleasant to hear. Love me to death and disappear. People say I'm crazy, doing what I'm doing. I'm dreaming my life away. I'm dreaming my life away.
The answer's locked inside the most mysterious square inch in the universe. And mostly everybody bores me, and when they don't, I'm exactly overwhelmed. Inkwell bound, cinema sweet, bookish heartthrob, cruel and unusual. Hair in your eyes, lungs out of breath, hands out of reach, a metaphor for something that fucks us up. I'm sorry we're closed. Please come again. The number you have reached has been disconnected. I'm counting counting counting true love ways. Your shiny teeth are smooth, pure and dangerous. A Hellenistic kiss, she wore punk like it were ethnicity. Hair in your eyes, hands on your hips, lungs out of breath, you're cruel and unusual.
A scratch and a bite. A battery-operated fight. I can't get no reaction or disciplinary action. Adult themes in childhood costumes. A little too much makeup and not enough skirt. Oh, those innocent racists and inadvertent sexists. The team leaders look the other way and pretend to be on important phone calls.
The honor of being asked. The pleasure of saying no. Can I buy you a drink? There's this party; do you want to go? Do you want to come and work for us? I simply say no. I used to want to be a star, every weekend out late playing shows. Now go ahead and ask for one. I'll just keep saying no.
The world's full of magic. Everywhere I look, I see rabbits. And they jump or they hop and they tell me to stop looking into everything for an answer. But you are just the opposite; every question, you're on top of it, and the bunnies run and hide anywhere they can. It's a lonely, lonely sky on the fifth of July. And there's nothing left to celebrate on New Year's Day. And the more I give away, it's the less I have to show. And the more I have to say, all the less that I could know. You think I'm thinking before I speak, but, baby, I'm just blank. Baby, I'm just blank. The best things in life have no meaning, or if they did, I didn't perceive any. So when you ask me what I think and I look at you and blink, I'm gonna give it to you straight. Baby, I'm just blank.
Sometimes I feel like I’m standing on a ledge. And you try to talk me off. You say it’s for the best. You pull me through the window and this is what you say, “I didn’t drag you from the river so you can just sail away.” I now doth crazy go. I broke all the dishes while you were gone. I accidentally dropped them, baby, one by one. My hands just sort of slipped. I can’t explain. This is why you shouldn’t leave without me again. I now doth crazy go. Take a look at those lips, they’re not gonna kiss themselves. So it’s clear to me. We need each other’s help. I now doth crazy go.
Air traffic control warns us visibility is low, but I've covered this ground before. Two cars collide, another is sent into a deadly slide. But I've covered this ground before. A snowman used to drive me around. He couldn't hear me under that howling blizzard sound, but I'm at the wheel now and I'm driving straight through it, but I've covered this ground before. A hole in the sail. A leak at the bottom of a rusty pail. I'm paddling for my life with only one oar, and I've covered this ground before.
No to Some 02:15
I wrote you a letter in study hall. I wanted to take you to the mall, but I’m awkward and I’m broke. I must have misspoke. You asked me to meet you at the punk rock show. I dressed up and went, but you didn’t go. It’s a part of growing up. You just stop showing up. I went from no to some idea what I’m doing. They asked me to play a local show. I said that I would, but I didn’t go. That’s the way we learn. The rejected want their turn. I said no to some. ‘Not sure if I said it to the right ones.
The myth that we've outgrown. No turn goes unstoned. It doesn't matter eat the cake and keep the batter. No turn goes unstoned. Long before irony was born. Before the entertainment industry. I'd soak you in the water and watch you dissolve. I was your sun, you'd watch me revolve. An explanation. A story to tell. About creation. About heaven. About hell. It's a little out of focus but there are artistic liberties designed to satisfy our human tendencies. You want a microwave and a polio vaccine with the blessing of an all-knowing being. You want a united land where everyone is free without the burden of accurate history. The myth that we've outgrown. No turn goes unstoned. It doesn't matter keep the cake and eat the batter. No turn goes unstoned.
Love on the tongue like hard candy. Who has the patience to make it last? From a surreptitious kiss to a very public incident. Eyelashes on fingertips to make a wish. January, February, we don't leave the house all that much. Not wanting you to tire of my face, my voice, or my touch. Won't you say as such? Love on the tongue may be more like a cough drop. A temporary suppressant that leaves a bitter taste in its sorry and lonely wake. The nearly better-than-nothing cure that lovers take.
Running into friends can be really stressful. They'll ask you where you've been. What have I been up to? I don't really know just how to answer. I've been staying home. What have I been up to? Back in '99 when you called me back with regularity and say, "Why don't you come out with us tonight? There's a band that's playing that I think you'll like. Yeah, you gotta hear them." Quarters in the phone and an ice cream sundae. I was so alone that I'd called you back every day. And you were right, there's a time and place, but they hardly ever coincide. Now it's all distant like a dream, the people who were formally known as you and me.
I used to dream about the future. I'd fly over seas to visit you. Now everyone lives in the modern age. A face with a permanent frown. And we inherit all the credit and the debt of all of the lovers before. But you can't stay here. I already called a cab. You can't stay here. It's too late for that. On that birthday where we met your new girlfriend, it became fairly evident that we'd never ever see her again. I hear you speaking in my voice. I see you in my mirror. You're waiting for someone to perform with. Don't you know that it's just you? You can't stay here. I already called a cab. You can't stay here. It's too late for that.
Life is a breeze if you can afford its membership fees. You can imagine that it all costs a little more, but there's more than that to being poor. When I learned how to read, I thought that education would set me free. But learning a language won't change your pedigree, and no one likes their purebred mixing company. You can imagine that it all costs a little more, but there's more than that to being poor. The tide is rising on a 40-watt moon, and my cheap shoes are burning with something to prove. There's a number two pencil writing verses on my sheets, saying, "You can be anything if you work hard and believe." Yeah. You can imagine that it all costs a little more, but there's more than that to being poor.
Indefinitely 01:20
Notate the songs of canaries. Write brand new words for dictionaries. You write it down, my definition. I love your noun; it's so adjective. Indefinitely, yeah, you're with me. Indefinitely. Subject and predicate, you know we're looking at a life long sentence; so let's run on and on and on. Oh yes, definitely!
I will not always make sense. It's just not one of my strengths. You will only see me from distances of vast and immeasurable lengths. Simple things, like leaves in spring. Why oh why, not pop songs, too? Recycled phrases for the masses. Why oh why, not for me, too? Twelve colors in a box of crayons. Six colors in a rainbow. Three words left for me to say. I will not always exist. How could I make such a claim? But I have lied for lesser things, and so I'll say it just the same.
I would drive 900 miles to see you. Kidnap anyone who said they loved you. I'd buy a steel mallet and a four-inch folding knife. I'd meet her in the parking lot in the middle of the night, like an astronaut in love. I thought you and I would leave the earth behind. The stars would flash their cameras at our arrival. I just want to be weightless. I just want you to myself. I'm singing "Driftin' Blues" by Sam Cooke. I'm ready for lift off. Like an astronaut in love.
You will get my best, I will get what's left. I'll be sweeping in spotlight. A gross misuse of time, whatever I call mine. Let me borrow liberally. I want to look for a cure where I know there is no cure, just the searching will serve. I know the answers, but the questions still entertain me. I am the rabbit you're depending upon. I was the walrus, but now I'm John. You will get my best and I will get depressed in a backstage meltdown. Every traffic light, a stage for me tonight. I'll be singing my heart out.


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About this collection:

These twenty songs were selected from a ten-year period (2004-2014), with a focus on material that stays true to the Hussalonia founder's vision for the future of Hussalonia. The opening track, "The Hussalonia Anthem," was written expressly for this compilation and appears on no other release. Each song has been remastered from the original mixes, with several songs remixed for improved fidelity. If you are new to Hussalonia, this is an ideal place to start. If you are already a Hussalonia fan, this is a great collection of the founder's favorite compositions, all newly remastered. Definitely worth the price of admission.

About Hussalonia:

Hussalonia is a pop music cult owned by Nefarico,™ makers of fine luxury soaps. The man behind Hussalonia, known only as the Hussalonia founder, operates under the belief that pop does not mean popular. This rejection of pop’s original definition seems fitting, as Hussalonia has been writing and recording finely-honed pop songs in complete obscurity since 1997. For Hussalonia, pop music will not lead to popularity with the masses, rather, it is a mindset, a way of life, an aesthetic pursuit.

Another guiding principle of Hussalonia is to follow the muse blindly. While Hussalonia primarily makes what the average record store clerk would call power pop – music influenced by ‘60s beat and ‘80s post-punk – it has also made albums of experimental sound collage, metal, robot singers, lo-fi folk, national anthems remixed, and more. This collection, however, omits the adventurous aspect of Hussalonia’s career, focusing instead on accessible songs – or at least as accessible as Hussalonia gets; most of these songs are a mere two-minutes or less.

In 2011, Hussalonia was purchased by Nefarico.™ It was under this ruthless corporate buyout that the Hussalonia founder found himself no longer able to use his real name in association with his music. Now under strict contract, Hussalonia is regularly forced to record commercials for Nefarico™ products.


released July 11, 2014

All songs were written, performed, and produced by the Hussalonia founder except:

Matt Barber plays drums on “Never Be Famous” and “You Can’t Stay Here.
Rob Lynch plays drums on “I Now Doth Crazy Go” and “There’s More Than That to Being Poor.”
Rich McCarthy plays drums on "Time and Place."
Jonathan Hughes plays bass on “I Now Doth Crazy Go” and “There’s More Than That to Being Poor.” He also plays the guitar solo on “There’s More Than That to Being Poor.”
Janet McNally sings backing vocals on “There’s More Than That to Being Poor.”

Executive producer: Finney Jean Soda Esq.
Design: Captain Blanqueador
Assistant to the founder: Faber Castell
© 2014 Hussalonia BMI


Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.



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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