Good Songs For Bad People
One night fated to be slept on the streets of Drab City turns out lasts entire generations We both drop dead hungry each night under foreign stars Hair matted and mashed into the sidewalk glue grime, spit, snot, olive pits, ashes, spoiled cream We sleep huddled in the thinnest linens and dream startlingly beautiful stuff like ships with eight sails and fifty canons mooring at the quay or even just Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous When the landlord pays a visit he arrives cheerful and singing in a flute like voice an underdeveloped, simple and predictable tune He wears boots like Robin Leach And at the back of the skull Wakes us with a kick Then we’re off and away digging other people’s ditches all day We’re staring out the big window in this Turkish bakery on the dirty boulevard after sunset blank, silent and sucking the last of the grounds Probably everyone around here wants us to die Our feelings are unfashionable Creative little groups of artists and influencers pass carrying uniquely scented wallets Everybody’s got nice stuff but me I want a stereo I want a TV Well I guess that’s everything Avoid the authorities, live free, then die when it’s cool
They return two years later as Drab City with an equally arty, more retro-inflected project debut, Good Songs for Bad People.
Mysterious two-piece Drab City take us on a half-hour trip through uncertain, unsighted and somewhat intimidating terrain
Bella Union's latest great hopes, Drab City, offer a glamorously disheveled form of creepy art-pop from the union of early 2000s witch-house pioneer,...