Michael 3 by Equine Fistula

Main Album Track List:

1. 11:13 Thrivers
2. 02:20 Frisk
3. 12:33 The Bad News
4. 11:29 The Wrong Person
5: 16:53 Meshes
6. 10:58 Underwater Loss

Recorded from August 2021 to February 2022
Produced from January - February 2022


When I was a young boy, I was well enrolled in a study. On weeknights, my mother, sister and I would watch TV together to bond. We would be at the couch until 9 pm and mom would allow us to stay up a little bit longer. Watching the news, there would sometimes be reports of sex offenders and pedophile criminals at large. Lucky for me, I hadn't yet grasped the horror of a pedophile's mark on a child, families and communities. I made a comment or asked a question about the subject. Nearly snuggled at my mother's side, she decided to verbally ingrain it into me to not dare become a pedophile like the ones she tsk'd and sneered about around her slovenly epitaphs to the convicts. "DON'T BE A PEDOPHILE!"

"Why?" I asked.

"I SAID JUST DON'T!" she proceeded to shout.

I don't remember much of the nightly routine I went through before I fell asleep on that night. What I remember next was the dream I had that nearly sucked the life out of me.

"...Because I'll send you right back!" Is what I heard.

A woman was in the center of a surgical theater, a patient on the gurney. This figure was given no anesthetic, yet the procedure was underway without any hesitation from the men and women in scrubs, masks and hats. There was a copper colored face inside a tube that was resembling fire, with a post-menopausal bellowing sustained like a yo-yo. There was the son of the mother holding the tube in both his hands looking down at his mother. This short haired woman's neck began torpedoing out of her body and one of the surgical assistants was grasping the top end of the neck for the team's leverage. It was like she was handling a processed rope of sausage. I recall the back of this woman's neck slamming onto the steel of the table. The copper face in the tube was the last thing I saw in the dream.

No, sorry, I was perched on my knees at the 27.5-inch tube analog Panasonic, that my face was ten inches away from. The house was nearly pitch black aside from various glints reflected from the pixel clash in front of me.

Rough, grating, ambient and experimental industrial clique where it smells different from home.

open.spotify.com
deezer.com