more from
Polyvinyl Records
We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Lousy with Sylvianbriar

by of Montreal

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $10 USD  or more

     

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Includes unlimited streaming of Lousy with Sylvianbriar via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 5 days
    3 remaining
    Purchasable with gift card

      $22 USD or more 

     

1.
i do wrong, strictly speaking, just for myself because it makes me feel like a real man to hold hegemony over my biznezzz and i refuse to be abused by the milieu of wistful decay besides i’m used to all of my scruples deserting me like they’ve done today the lady from the block hunched over on the stoop with her withered old titty out saying “i’ve been rolled so many times, it’s just feeding the pigeons” now her grandson swings a living rabbit by the leg while his mother’s playing two wooden flutes i went to repo some fugitive air to escape the street’s vagary aesthetic has anybody here seen my old friend Blob? oh has anybody seen where he’s gone? what he thinks i owe him is his former life, but how can i unmake somebody else’s mistakes? i guess i was his anti-hero, the bitter word on his lips, i hope i never feel a terror like when you discovered your autonomy had flipped i feel like i possess only the bad aspects of invisibility but none of the good ones are we walking mausoleums of scented rotting flesh? mother always liked you best, liked your teeth upon her breasts they removed the oils from the eyes of street cats, through some shitty witchcraft, and apply it to their brows and genitalia i had no idea how deeply i wounded you, but i don’t need no forgiveness, and no level of contrition will ever do
2.
you like to think that you can live beyond good and evil amputated from humanity on some life long intellectual retreat when everything is conceptual and all is rhetorical you can feel so powerful but when you’re forced to face the physical world you scurry like an insect there is a virus in your tenets, don’t be naive, you know it’s true and if you don’t protect yourself, obsidian currents will devour you you have committed yourself wholly to the dominion of semantics and ideas all things cerebral and abstract with no patience for impractical emotions burning everyone who ever tried to get close to you but you’re so lizard like you don’t feel any passion for anything but yourself
3.
belle glade missionaries are here to steal your cocaine you better send your malaria to puncture their brains and send them back to where they came from send them back to their savannas of disease from your first psychotic episode to your drug induced schizophrenia it’s your dysphoric mania that makes you so like-able and everybody wanna save you save you just for themself they’re letting children get blown up in their schools today so they can get them back into their factories you know it pains me to see you all being so betrayed but i guess you’ll never know so it doesn’t matter my fever must be high because these bitter winter winds have made the bones in my jaw go hollow and there’s a sense that there’s a prowler on the prairie leaving hair on the walls we helped to flatten the sounds that bound down Dolores St. and my greatest fear released into someone else’s consciousness and now it’s theirs to contend with ah but still there’s these razors to pretend with i have the sense you wanna be the female Henry Miller, cynically referring to your lovers as your pricks and exploiting other people’s madness on Nexus you claimed to have called out to me telepathically through all archaic mediums, but i never once heard you so i think you were just lying again i feel like i’ve been Becket’s Molloy-d like something nature people avoid like all my talent’s been destroyed like i’m a para-spectral voice with no choices at the present still there’s a value in things unpleasant well you post naked gif’s of your epileptic fits and keep track of your hits and your friends don’t give a shit and view your fugues with amusement of all the evil in the universe there are no victims only participants i can’t trust my instincts lately, they don’t feel organic, they feel more synthetic
4.
what i recall, remember best, is the insanity and the clatter misapprehensions are killing you but not fast enough to really matter the flume of your struggle is flooded with sorrow and it poisons everybody near it but i’m not a patron of yours anymore, don’t want to hear it, the sirens of your toxic spirit of your addictions and shiftiness inherited from your father i know you struggle to keep them in check, but at this point why even bother? what friendships you have left, they’re not derived from love, they’re just some warped form of charity i’ve wounded you and you’ve wounded you too, at least we can feel good about the parity
5.
Colossus 03:36
your mother hung herself in the National Theater when she was four months pregnant with your sister who would’ve been thirteen years old today does that make you feel any less alone in the world? your dad i’m sure he tried his best, he thought you’d be better off living with your grandmother, he didn’t realize that she’d already given up baby your family they are all just losers i become such a wolf around you, my thoughts go dark and all out of focus i have no peace in my mind because you, you’ve touched me the screech owls are going insane outside my house, it is the season for trouble and self destruction, all of my friends they are falling apart, but not me i am in control remember the exquisite corpse that we created together? we laughed at the time, it seemed so impenetrable but reading it now i think i understand what it is that we’re trying to steal from each other
6.
the last ten days have been a motherfucker, i didn’t know if i’d survive the voice with the synapse that calls blood bats into action has now entered the tablelands it’s only natural to feel a little imbalanced, it’s a symptom of your hysterical need to be understood you had to forgive your enemy cause it wa\s making you psychotic to keep fighting him inside of your head but how could you allow these people whom you don’t even respect to rape your self concept and make your inner world an ugliness? thrashed through the forest like a tormented brute, i had to make myself a monster just to feel something ugly enough to be true and then scratching wildly at the mirror in my heart to see their doleful faces what is the flaw in just running away? running away fixes everything, how can i why should i stay? just to view the triumph of disintegration? to live beneath language, or far above, it’s really not that different at least now that the one thing that is good about me has begun to express itself in malicious ways thrashed through the forest like a tormented brute, i had to make myself a monster just to feel something ugly enough to be true and then scratching wildly at the mirror in my heart to see their doleful faces what is the flaw in just running away? running away fixes everything, how can i why should i stay? just to see the triumph of disintegration? victories of devastation?
7.
in the pen with the mastiffs bred to fight rats in the bowels of the arena i received a kiss without promise that produced deformities of happiness the laughter there is viscous it leaves a residue down the legs of the chairs since you lost the will to hear they get your attention grabbing fistfuls of your hair these amphibian days they will not heel to you you can’t defy the defining flaw of your generation the heavens vomited the dawn upon us as we learned how to occupy photographs she descended a stairway composed of silk and flicked her cigarette as i sweat through my black hex i saw you two climax in spasms through a frosted window you both came in electronics and anthemic bursts of unsanitary flames if this is Tartarus, which of us is Echidna which one Arakiel? this bastard conveyance of extinct emotions that we know only in our cells i labour to tempt you out of your cage and into my patrol until this vessel lands i have decided to ignore all impulse control
8.
like some sepulchral tableaux i sit frozen holding your hand though i’m trying to think only positive thoughts i understand that this tomorrow may not be the tomorrow that your eviscerating suffering will end will you ever be yourself again? girl with the flu, i hear the death rune, she ain’t doing well, her eyes they seem cast and fatherless her psyche’s cracked or anyhow she ain’t speakin now nightfall, like some leaden sea, dilates as i hold vigil by your bed watching the pillowcase soaking with sweat around your head i can’t repel the snaking veil of morbidity that’s disfiguring the seraph of your face the organisms been debased girl with the flu, i hear the death rune, she ain’t doing well, her eyes they seem cast and fatherless her psyche’s shattered or anyhow she ain’t speakin now you scream that the books are falling off the shelves on to you but i can’t see them your hallucination ravings i’m writing them all down so you can read them when your mind no longer aches and your febrility breaks
9.
up in the hills they are having a white riot, with no violence or protesting for change they simply buy it if you’re thinking i’m Caucasian well i’m actually grey, i was conceived on Ash Wednesday and stoned on Christmas Day my baby’s meditating to stop the war but i got myself a rifle cause i ain’t gonna get walked on anymore out my window i see a battle of hawks, my best friend has been dead for years but still we have great talks and just like the planets we will never touch just float around in space not expecting very much we feel such hunger like vampire bats, i got myself a gang and we’re called the Sleep Rats i was out in the desert hunting UFO all i saw were scorpions and aliens i already know she gave him head till she lost a tooth, that’s what you get for molesting people in the dj booth i used to be a palace now i’m just a dive, i made a widow out of you even though i’m still alive my baby’s vegetating to stop the war but i got myself a rifle cause i ain’t gonna get walked on anymore
10.
there’s a raindrop in my skull, i’m too shaky now to get it out i guess it fell from some far away cloud bloated with radiation some people are singing of the birth of another soulless drone who’ll grow to leach off the earth my guitar feels strange in my hands, i have almost no tactile perceptions on the tv there’s a Mexican horror film, it isn’t dubbed, i’m not really watching some people are singing of the birth of another philistine who’ll grow to ravage the earth last night, when you left me, i took a walk through the fog and the gossamer light of the strawmoon, the haunting strangely humid pitch of winter’s waning then my recurring dream of the swarm there’s a raindrop in my skull, i’m too messed up now to get it out it must’ve fallen when my mind was somewhere else, now i am fixating on it
11.
your folks they are such lovely people, i can’t understand where you came from how long can it possibly take for one to realize that the dream is over? how many more nights must you just humiliate yourself? the pollution from your imbecile rages is licking at your heels blotting red streaks across the desert of my eyes i have no hope for you anymore when you said to my woman at the show that we were just desperately breathing life into a dead ghost, do you really think these things you say, they won’t get back to me? i guess you feel like you’ve got this lifetime pass and you can be a dick and it doesn’t matter but i’m through yeah i’m set free and basically you’re just dead to me the pollution from your imbecile rages is licking at your heels blotting red streaks across the desert of my eyes i have no hope for you anymore

about

Lousy with Sylvianbriar was created with a new songwriting approach, a different recording method, and a fresh group of musicians.

Seeking creative inspiration, Kevin Barnes re-located to San Francisco where he spent days soaking in the strange surroundings and channeling the city's energy into his writing. After a very prolific period there, he returned to Athens, GA, and assembled the cast of musicians to begin the sessions.

Barnes eschewed computer recording -- with its pitch correction, limitless effects plug-ins and editing possibilities -- and instead, with the help of engineer Drew Vandenberg (Deerhunter, Toro y Moi), he recorded Lousy with Sylvianbriar in his home studio on a 24-track tape machine.

With no computer tricks to fall back on, the band -- Kevin Barnes (guitars,bass,vocals), Rebecca Cash (vocals), Clayton Rychlik (drums,vocals), Jojo Glidewell (keys), Bob Parins (pedal steel,bass), and Bennet Lewis (guitars,mandolin) -- could only get out of the recordings what they put into them.

Most of the tracking was recorded live with the band in the same room together. They worked quickly, with the band members composing their parts on the fly and with little second guessing. The album was recorded in just three weeks.

"I knew I wanted the process to be more in line with the way people used to make albums in the late 60s and early 70s," reveals Barnes. "I wanted to work fast and to maintain a high level of spontaneity and immediacy. I wanted the songs to be more lyric-driven, and for the instrumental arrangements to be understated and uncluttered.”

Opening track and lead single "Fugitive Air" feels like a Stones-y anthem, with sparks of Philip K. Dick's psychedelic prose, Ralph Bakshi's cartoon violence, and William S. Burroughs' hyper-paranoia.

"Belle Glade Missionaries" finds Barnes lyrically at his most political, backed by a soundtrack that is pure Dylan circa Highway 61 Revisited.

Vocalist Rebecca Cash makes several appearances on the album, taking the lead on the plaintive "Raindrop in My Skull," where her and Barnes share a Gram Parsons/Emmylou Harris-inspired duet.

"She Ain't Speakin' Now" ranks among of Montreal's all-time great songs, transforming its brooding acoustic guitar intro into a visceral angst-ridden rocker that sounds like the best moments of Neil Young & Crazy Horse.

The album's closer, "Imbecile Rages," a caustic and doleful epitaph for a crumbling relationship, is one of Barnes' most raw and personal statements.

Like the classic albums that inspired it, this is an album to be explored, to be lived with, to be listened to in happiness and in darkness, to be dissolved into. To be played very loudly at parties and with eyes closed, in headphones, alone. It should become dog-eared and dirty with use and it should lessen the blow of our enemies, in all their forms

credits

released October 8, 2013

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

of Montreal Athens, Georgia

shows

contact / help

Contact of Montreal

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this album or account

If you like of Montreal, you may also like: