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Rock and roll nigger. Half-breed mulatto faux pas. Bleach out my darkness. Blend me into the bourgeoisie. The darkest arts, the blackest magic. A sleight of hands to blot-out all of my savage. I’m not the skin that I’m stuck crawling within. I’m just a bad magic trick. I’m not the skin that I’m stuck crawling within. I’m both the lynched and the mob. I’m just a bad magic trick. Miscegenated. Cross-pollinated. The misdirection. The self-deception. Self-loathing. Self-hatred. The darkest arts, the blackest magic. The alchemy of twisted acid. The darkest arts, the blackest magic. The odd man out, the family secret. Brand me a liar, brand me a thief. Some see the skin, some see what’s trapped underneath. Where do you run when you’re running from yourself? From your cells, from the sickle, chop down the tree of your kin. I’m not the skin that I’m stuck crawling within. No. I’m just a bad magic trick.
This entire album rips. I've had this on repeated play several times since it came out. I wish I had heard it a week earlier when they played in Boston. One of my fav albums in this genre period. slimes
Crunchy garage jams co-mingle with country on the Brooklyn band's surprise LP, a not-so-secret love letter to the Rolling Stones. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 25, 2018