Mercy Machine

by Lesbian Concentrate

/
  • Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

     $10 USD  or more

     

1.
03:33
2.
03:44
3.
4.
03:40
5.
6.
06:02
7.
8.
9.
04:16
10.
11.
04:34
12.

about

aMarx36

A delectable mix of art rock and grungy prog with Dylan-meets-Pynchon poetry ranging from the serious to the less-than-serious to the way-too-serious. If you can tolerate Cardiacs and enjoy the genre-bending sensibilities of Ween, then you'll enjoy Lesbian Concentrate.

credits

released August 23, 2016

Liebermintz - lead vocals, guitars, bass, keyboards, Mellotron, drum programming, marimba, saxophones

Jon Mikl Thor Speeler - lead vocals on 2, background vocals on 3 and 9

Meatballspaghetti - mystery of the meatball

Recorded, produced and mastered at Heated New Sound, Covington, GA from December 2015 to July 2016; and at Trent's house, Savannah, GA in December 2015.

Produced by Liebermintz.

All songs written by Shane Christopher Smith (BMI).

Special thanks to Rob Corddry, Andrew Leeds, Dan McDonough, Thor Speeler, Sam Dodson, Kate Smith, Katamari101, Luke Setzer, Wil Garcia, Peter Mahaffey, Meatballspaghetti, Trevor Tavares, Will Speck, Paul Dae Kim, Ozark Soundscape, Trent Allen, Oliver Cooper and Rex Nabours. Without you guys, I wouldn't have done it. Well, okay, maybe except for Rob and Andrew, but they've done so much for me with getting my name out there. They didn't have to.

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

I Thought You Were A Marxist Records

RIP 2014-2017

contact / help

Contact I Thought You Were A Marxist Records

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: WS
I’m on the morning ride, it’s time to feel alive, windy bike ride highway, the scenery in the countryside, Bob Ross exhibition, picturesque day, no cars down the road to the field and I see scarecrows mass appeal, total retain as my eye sees all, one thing looks way too real

I’m in the postmodern age of the man – every action I do to you in command; samsaric circle, karmic application, in syncopation

Who’s the kid twitching and moaning, amongst the corn, what a strange color, he’s not exactly a good fighter, the crows come around, high-step whistling, the details look strange, I damn well know, but maybe it’s just another decoration, it’ll all be snuffed out in the snow, red in the ground, trail on the boulevard

I bike away, postmodern ignorance, samsaric renewal, scarecrow is bliss, familiar sights and sounds not amiss, Wyoming togetherness

Biking further down the avenue that’s when the sight kicked in it’s true the being looked way too real the trail of blood should’ve revealed missing inquiries across town of the guy last seen at the Fireside could that be him there so I turned around

I’m riding down and I hear a cry, a weak cry, perhaps, but probably a lark’s, but it sounded shrill and pained and dark, desperate and then it all stopped, took another look at the sight, is his head split open and cut, WHAT’S GOING ON WHAT’S THIS GUY DOING HERE, and I tripped

My wheel was bent and I couldn’t do a thing, but I noticed I was closer to the fence, the scarecrow, I thought, was human all along, just barely making breaths

HEAD BUSTED BRAIN ON THE FENCH WHEEZE AND CHOKE TEETH ON THE GROUND
AND THEN IT HIT ME
IT WAS MATT FROM TOWN
THE BASTARDS CARVED IN FAG
Track Name: Manufacture
Just a girl with bright eyes, I guess my luck ain’t no surprise. Confidence flows from her singing, wringing her emotions in defense. Took her backstage to discuss who I am – no one superfluous. I am her handler in industry…she appears to be on board immediately.

She’s not taking her daily bread – what to do instead? She’s too unique to fit in – we’re on the wrong route…

Just a girl with Wayne’s hair: she told us, “[she] wants to aim elsewhere. The Ways at Warner carved out their niche.” We believe she’s into that expressionist flair, but I paused at her proposal. I don’t want her to come out pre-sold. “We got a hold of Pete’s imprint a while back and its parent, so Gainesville’s her new home.”

She’s not taking her daily bread – what to do instead? She’s too unique to fit in – we’re on the wrong route…

Just a girl with a backing band: those years of writing formula in Nashville, the manufactured seams ARC-WELDED.

She’s not taking her daily bread – what to do instead? She’s too unique to fit in – we’re on the wrong route…
Track Name: No Way in Hell I Have a Son
He cucked me good – the schizoid liar, that’s why I had to fire. They say I should rehire the fighter, but he had to fuck her. He’s dead to me: Jakie Rabinowitz.

I wish I rigged him like Cimino’s horse. I wish I never put that golden heart in the whore.

He boasts of it. Why didn’t his daddy call Mr. Landy? He made 5 cents – I’m the bulk of it. HE AIN’T WORTH SHIT. THAT FUCKING CUCK HOLD HIM BY NECK I’LL MAKE HIM WRECK HE’S DEAD TO ME Jack Robin and Neil Diamond in blackface.

I wish I rigged him like Cimino’s horse. I wish I never put that golden heart in the whore. No way in hell we’ll ever reunite, but I’ll make jokes with he who insults my wife.
Track Name: No Comment
Down the 405 to Western, I hear the new Beatles and suddenly it hits me: they got there first. I wanna be the innovator, not another laggard. I fell behind during the dawn of the album era.

You don’t deserve it, neither do I. I wanna be first. No comment.

Bust into Western to get tapes to save my own self-respect. The ego’s come in full force here – I don’t wanna bruise it. Al, Carl, Dennis, Mike and Bruce wonder what’s gotten into me. I mention we can make compromise, compromise.

You don’t deserve it, neither do I. I wanna be first. No comment.

The million bucks I spent for naught – what do I get? Demands for another album. It’s eating up inside of me. IT’S EATING UP INSIDE OF ME!

You don’t deserve it, neither do I. I wanna be first. No comment.

No more journeys inside the cantina, no more teenage pocket symphonies. I have nothing to say on the matter, I’ve been wiped out. The new artistic malaise.

It’s all you’re gonna get, you’ll never get the rest. IT’S ALL YOU’RE GONNA GET! YOU’LL NEVER GET THE REST!
Track Name: Unicorn Analogy
You time-telling liberal faggot: you waxin’ the facts out of order. You didn’t do what I asked you – into your crooked nose, the door. Complete with complex emotions, a simple sideline with thoroughfare. Jesus Christ was wrong, go right for motion. Dump his ass over there in the chair.

You cocaine-snortin’ alt-right blonde boy, you outed her like she were Ethan Klein. She’s become your horse-faced bitch toy. You say she’s crossed your line. You said she was overdoin’ it in reaction to the unicorn analogy on McCracken Pt. II. They’re so far on Zbornak that Donny didn’t really work as intended. Point it out. It’s all up to you.

Let God judge you both – give you guys both rope. By the way, lather the soap, you dopes.

All hail Donny, he stood so tall. Donny, cyan lines say he’s okay. Donny protected by copyright law. Forever pain.
Track Name: Ceyack
What about it? What about this whole ordeal? Expose – expose the photonegative. What about it, about my decline and appeal? Hey! New edition still unreal!

I’d like to be at home in CinemaScope™ and tell people, for my presence, they must shed blood and ride in my sheet-metal kayak [to] escape this suburban hell, escape this suburban hell, escape this suburban HELL.

At least I didn’t sell out for a wine cooler, say fuck off and hand out the shot. [I] teach them names that gaslight impure thoughts. Praise, say praise, it’s the only chance you got.

What about it: new twisting ordeal? Subotnick gone rotary and whimsy’s pretty much dead? What about it? You smile as you ensure. Go tell him new music and he’ll never grasp himself.

I know you’re not so innocent as you look. All you college scholars, how I want to SLICE YOUR EYES.

I’d like to be at home in CinemaScope™ and tell people, for my presence, they must shed blood and ride in my sheet-metal kayak [to] escape this suburban hell, escape this suburban hell, escape this suburban HELL.

At least I didn’t sell out for a wine cooler, say fuck off and hand out the shot. [I] teach them names that gaslight impure thoughts. Praise, say praise, it’s the only chance you got.

I just got it: I’m a spectacular mess. I’m just the mediocrity of societal blasé, y’know? Thank you for putting a gun to my head! Of course YOU DENY IT, but the more I repeat, the truer it gets.

What about it? What about what I’m saying? Does it make any sense? DOES IT MAKE ANY SENSE, ANDREW?!

I know continued domination.

I’d like to be at home in CinemaScope™ and tell people, for my presence, they must shed blood and ride in my sheet-metal kayak [to] escape this suburban hell, escape this suburban hell, escape this suburban HELL.

I can’t escape it! It envelops me! It’s like symbiotic sin! What the hell, me? I can’t escape it! It’s my destiny to be a laughing stock! Play Dot Wiggin rock!

At least I didn’t sell out for a wine cooler, say fuck off and hand out the shot. [I] teach them names that gaslight impure thoughts. Praise, say praise, it’s the only chance you got.
Track Name: I Bedazzled the Football
I’m going crazy. I’m fucking lazy. This’ll really raise me through the spirited grain, but I can’t complain: my new daughter’s with me at all times of the day. High life’s gone away.

I ran all through town to fix you and I’m the irresponsible one. I’ve been trying to connect the dots, hon. I’m left for dead by presses, too.

I’ve gone insane. She arrived via plane. My new character reigns – everything I have’s neutered. I’m the family man in Reuters – my presence gets mothers soothin’. Quarterback social success, pigskins in diamondatic dress…

I ran all through town to fix you and I’m the irresponsible one. I’ve been trying to connect the dots, hon. I’m left for dead by presses, too.

Even though I’m not the rule of cool, I still rule to all their ghosts. They know the end’s not toast. After all, all that matters is you.

Nuts for the new concepts – no “buts,” no exceptions, and no way to exit. I’m content with this direction.

Deathporn immortality’s overrated. A tranquil sedation. I masturbated for the last time – I’m not cut for bachelor life.

I ran all through town to fix you and I’m the irresponsible one. I’ve been trying to connect the dots, hon. I’m left for dead by presses, too.
Track Name: The Right to Identification
SHE must be faking it. SHE’s done stupid stuff for money. SHE must be faking it, therefore “he” is a SHE. Chicago drama queens in cahoots with this GIRL with short hair. This “boy” never had a peen – no right to identity.

With the truth we’ll jam the air against the culture cuckholded. This Augustine Iago who judges fair, he says “you’re all sick, sickness unfolded.”

HE must be faking it. HE went Binx and Trig at Hot Wheels. HE must be faking it. HE’s on the run from those HE’s killed. HE has the online-only Ween album. HE made a shitty game – now HE must pay. We know HE’s kept his peen – no right to identity.

With the truth we’ll jam the air against the culture cuckholded. This Augustine Iago who judges fair, he says “you’re all sick, sickness unfolded.” But I have no hate: none by far. I love the blonde Greaseball
Track Name: Schaeffer
I’ve been out of my virtual hell for half a year now and yet, I feel surreal doubt. I think I’m human, but I can’t tell. The brain says, “yes,” but with nightmares, but what if that’s consequence? I can’t play God if you have sins, but nobody told Spengler.

I shudder and curl up when they trigger the visions. A flash of a dossier: TERMINATE ALL WITH OMNISCIENT AUTHORITY.

I know there’s a weird elf who evades suited wolves with migraines on bass that hold me to where I feel unwell. Two As and Waldo Schaeffer, the famous tactician…they said he said delusions…that his wife’s the only survivor.

I shudder and curl up when they trigger the visions. A flash of a dossier: TERMINATE ALL WITH OMNISCIENT AUTHORITY.

What does it mean to be a new human? I know the answer’s in me, so I have to look within.
Track Name: Meatballspaghetti
Mystery of the meatball.
Track Name: Tragedy
Midnight…on the way back to the car, to look afar to the sky…this feels right.

Shots ring out – “OH GOD, WILL I MAKE IT?!” I fell – he fell to the pavement. He doesn’t look well at all.

No witnesses! No punch! No takeover – just a tragedy! No freedom! No confinement! No miracle – just his dead eyes!

Right, are you okay? Do you feel faint? Labored breathing fills the space – an American nightmare. BEWARE.

I look for my phone only to notice Becky above. Her gun was pointed blank like love – she wants us to be “only” alive. I said, “I need to get him help.” Becky protested, said that I’d “rot in Hell.” She needed to play the perfect crime, but I don’t have the patience nor the time.

Right, are you okay? Do you feel faint? Labored breathing fills the space – an American nightmare. BEWARE.

Arrival – dodged what remained of Becky’s gun to run to the hospital…futile survival…

Tough fuckin’ fighter, tough love – Becky trailed through the corridors.

Right, are you okay? Do you feel faint? Labored breathing fills the space – an American nightmare. BEWARE.

He shifted his eyes to the light and Becky came in with a rifle. She emptied it into Right’s head – ten panicked breaths and he flatlined Sunn O))), so I jump and break her neck. What I done for Lyonell? I get up and see only Hell.

And then he was blank.
And then she was blank.
And then I went blank.
Track Name: Minimum Speed
I’m comin’ for you, Nicki, to where you are in the Great Beyond. Since the 12th, I’ve felt so sickly. I feel it’s time to move along. I told Bobby my last goodbye and climbed into the white reminder of that horrendous night…reminded I can’t escape this hurt.

Keep to it, AC! Keep it steady! I’m not ready to see the new me! Minimum speed’s enough to fool them! Blast my head on the border blasters!

Keep the gun – flash and IT’S DONE, a tragic ending to storied success. I know I’ll lose what I’ve won, but at least they’ll leave me at rest. I told Bobby a new goodbye – maybe I should’ve let Kim stay in. I know this shit’s all a lie! Juice my life, juice my life – it’s all sin!

Keep to it, AC! Keep it steady! I’m not ready to see the new me! Minimum speed’s enough to fool them! Blast my head on the border blasters!

I’M SITTING WITH A GUN TO MY HEAD I’M SITTING WITH A GUN TO MY HEAD I WANNA SEE MOMMY I WANT A HUG I WANT THINGS TO GO BACK TO THE WAY THEY WAS

AC speaks…assertion and a swear…nothing that Bobby could compare. He’s my hero as I fall down the abyss to my own Hell. I dance and confront Nicki at the ball or sit forever in some small jail cell. The white reminder putters loose, “The time has come to end the Juice.”

Keep to it, AC! Keep it steady! I’m not ready to see the new me! Minimum speed’s enough to fool them! Blast my head on the border blasters!

I’M SITTING WITH A GUN TO MY HEAD CALLING FOR MOMMY TO MEND THE BENDS MAYBE SHE’LL FIX THAT FATEFUL FINDING THIS TIME I’LL KEEP REMINDING

I’M NEW ZIP COON, I’M NEW ZIP COON I’M NEW ZIP COON I’M NEW ZIP COON I’M NEW ZIP COO-