Na maior parte de 2018 e 2019, os canadianos Sex Machine Octopus estiveram a trabalhar no seu disco de estreia “Plastic Scenes“, editado no passado dia 25 de Outubro. Este é um disco que reflecte a sensação ecléctica da banda no seu ambiente e cenário em constante mudança, e está aqui descrito faixa a faixa.
I wrote it in the dark, in my bed. Probably drinking a stolen bottle of my mom’s wine, when I was 17 (Ha-ha). I was having a hard time dealing with the overwhelming feeling of loving someone for the first time of my life, who at that time was not ready to let me in. Full adolescent mode. I pretty much puked it out on a sheet of paper. And was trying to be optimistic about it, by taking a mental step back and being aware of the ephemerality of that moment. But still being stuck there with the ridiculousness of that unbearable feeling.
It’s as if I was trying, as a kid, to sing my mother to sleep. It’s a folkish nursery rhyme from the point of view of the child, dedicated to the parent. It’s a song of longing the presence of the loved one. And it’s a message of understanding. And the expression of the need to escape deceiving reality, that is possible by creating your own little world filled with monsters and colorful mysteries. And signing along with them!
When you realize that nervousness as become your normal state. And not knowing why exactly but seeing that everything around you stimulates it. Just feeling it constantly and being overly self-conscious. shifting from those waves of anxiety, to sometimes calming moments that never lasts.
The song is only two sentences. It’s a mind’s inner voice. Fearfully repeating to itself, that maybe one day it will fall into insanity. Knowing it is not safe from getting lost. But realizing simultaneously that it has everything it needs to take care of itself. And being aware of his wholeness. But these thoughts only are foggy mists of loneliness I guess.
It was first composed on top of a roof in Mexico somewhere. There where big Busses passing on the street and shaking the whole building. It made me nervous. So, I tried to express the hidden signs of being anxious. The one that we mostly just try to keep contained in ourselves. Until it unfolds by emergency like a siren being activated.
I was sleeping in the closet under the stairs. Like harry Potter. I was pretty cozy. I was trying to give space to my loved one who was going through a bit of confusion. Not knowing what else to do, so there we were, her in our room. separated by two doors and small corridor. Her having to deal with her doubts and mixed desires. Trying to reconfigure her life. But still being in this… In that no man’s land. Where no decision has been made yet. As if, for that short period of time, we’re safe from the separation that life makes us face.
It’s a nice little break from some of that excessive music we made so far in the album. We made that one on the patio at Georgy’s shack. With percussions made with a lighter, a mini fridge and some hanged bells. It’s a quiet and calming one that was created spontaneously. It brings you back to something simpler. A nice shared moment with close ones. Just being… So, no words are needed.
A condensing of thoughts about modern day life. Not being in control over the traps and consequences of modernity that are already in place. Feeling you don’t have a role in facing all those outrageous issues that are going on. Seeing it and claiming that we, or at least some of us, will not accept it, and will keep the will and strength to fight or at least not take place in it and do different. Making fun of us in an ironic way at the same time. By claiming that we are here, dancing like idiots while people are being victims of awful geo-political contexts. It is what it is!
It’s a wild one, that says things in a very blank way. It wants to flee or hide somewhere away from this mess but realizes that danger is everywhere. So nowhere is safe. Because the power is spread and hidden everywhere. Turning towards love knowing that even that, can turn savagely violent just like everything else. So, waiting for that storm that will eventually come. It’ll have to find a cave to shelter and wait for it to pass. It’s really a shit show sometimes!
A Arte-Factos é uma revista online fundada em Abril de 2010 por um grupo de jovens interessados em cultura. (Ver mais artigos)