Interiors

by Suzaku Avenue

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flightoficarus (Metal Trenches)
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flightoficarus (Metal Trenches) Suzaku Avenue continues to show the same level of innovation I find in other albums from the region. 90's post-hardcore joined with avantgarde songwriting choices. It's 25 minutes of music that will leave you feeling breathless, disoriented, and perhaps a little bit violated. Interior's take on composition is the equivalent of being a 2 year old violently smashing Duplo blocks against eachother until they finally snap into place...in a good way.
- MetalTrenches.com Favorite track: Enabler (modest proposal).
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1.
Diegesis 04:30
We're all on set but the director never comes Half the shooting script is yellow, the other half isn't there at all All the extras are deaf, but they wouldn't listen anyway The first thing he said "This is a trombone shot" The closer we are, the further away they get The director yells "Cut!" but the movie goes on without him 2 assistant directors but they never show up I fell during that last crane shot and there was no one to catch me 200 takes and all that he said was “what do you want from us sir?” “What do you want, what you want from us all?” Cut Can you hear him? Where did he go? Does he have a new shoot? Has he forgotten us? You ruined the fucking shot Can you hear him? Not even when he yells, not even when he screams There’s no fourth wall for us to break. Can you hear him? Not even when he yells, not even when he screams And I can hear him, and you can hear him too. There was a cold open but I forget how it goes There’s a wrap party tonight, tomorrow night? Come with us – we’ll show you Our movie is made of money shots and mysteries Understudies are a penny a dozen. Remember that The first thing he said was “let’s get some backlighting over here Key light on this side, in the beginning”. Can you hear him? Not even when he yells, not even when he screams And I can hear him, and you can hear him too.
2.
What’d she expect, leaving the house dressed like that. What’d she expect, leaving the house shitfaced like that. What’d she expect, leaving the house. Her lips Her eyes Like that What did she expect? Her hips Her thighs Like that What did she expect? Tonight I’ll be a perfect gentleman Tonight I’ll show you something only a real man can I want to know what’s inside of you I need to know what’s inside of you Set my target, ran those yards and got the rewards Game theory – ground, pound, smash the cunt to pieces I’ve earned this through my blood, through my skin Nobody believes a whore, especially when she’s choking on spunk And what do you get from this process Clearing your name, dragging mine through the mud She wants it she wants it again and again Just doesn’t want Daddy to find out I know my right so don’t give me the stick I was just helping her get her vitamin D It’s not forced and it’s not desperation While she changes stories to stop reputation Her lips her eyes Her hips her thighs Leaving the house How was I to know when she never said no? Because I know you want it and I’ve got something thicke Enough to tear your life in two Because I know you want it and I’ve got something thicke Enough to tear your life in two “You can’t make an omelette without breaking a few cherries And at least it means you’re not a fucking fairy But listen son, just cut me some slack I’ll pull some strings and you’ll still get to play quarterback” We’re not the guilty party, We’re not going to change what we are You made it that kind of party Fuck it all, man let’s party That’s what she gets, leaving the house dressed like that That’s what she gets, leaving the house shitfaced like that That’s what she gets, leaving the house That’s what she gets How was I to know when she never said no? With all that we could say about wanting an equal existence Our actions and words only encourage the violence Even saving the world means you must get the girl You might as well shout “I have no sympathy for whores Unless - they take it from behind" You let me do it You never stopped me Take the blame I’m not the guilty party We’re not the guilty party, We’re not going to change what we are You made it that kind of party Fuck it all, man let’s party
3.
Conaím in tír liath I gconaí an rud chéanna I’m not from around here, And I don’t really know the signs A quiet dead seastack coloured grey A grey world built of grey matter So you’ve locked me away in a Chinese room Red lacquered walls, a cauterized womb I’ll dispense the right words, I’ll never miss my cue But it’s all Chinese to me, if not for you They baptised me with formaldehyde They watched me scream and twitch and spasm Just a spatter of spunk standing quietly in the corner A ten-year seizure interrupted by orgasm Because I’m looking for love in all the wrong places And leaving my love on all the wrong faces Hunting and fucking and coming by rote And looking for answers in the bottom of your throat So I’ll tell you that you matter While I retch at the thought of your sickly musk I’ll tell you that you matter But I’d sell you down the river for the dimensions of a corn husk I cannot be me I cannot be what you want me to be I am not good enough for you or them I’ve forgotten my lines and my costume My Chinese room is carpeted with eggshells and viscera My formaldehyde is leaking on you I will pass the notes through the slit in the wall and you will answer But I will understand none of it I will tear my viscera out of my arms until there is nothing left to tear out My formaldehyde is leaking on you Toujours la même chose So you asked, “if I said the right thing, does it matter if I meant it?” Well if my body’s transient it can’t matter if she rents it Tear away from me all non-essentials Good for nothing, but at least I have crossover potential Reduced to a pale and syphilitic whore But still, give me just a little bit mort Conaím in tír liath I gconaí an rud chéanna I’ll fetch from all remotes. I will find the dimensions of a corn husk Now watch me sell you all down the river. Until I’ve been left alone altogether. Pale grey seastack off the coast Carved by gales and foaming tides, built by ghosts Cursed with Karst till nothing ever grows Toujours, toujours, toujours la même chose Toujours, toujours, toujours la même chose A transient dissociation A final confirmation Toujours, toujours, toujours la même chose I’ll disappoint you again. Don’t tell me I’m good enough. Déanfaidh mé iarraidh arís I don’t want to sell you down the river Down the river where that seastack lies I want to try again I want all of you to matter I think I know what this is about
4.
Second-Order 06:47
Where I come from, this is what they call an eye-opener I’ve missed six consecutive times of the month, but it’s worth it: You’ve no idea the savings I’m making on sanitary towels In the scheme of things, it probably doesn’t matter that I’m Punching holes in the walls; but I’ve nowhere to go – I sold my car to pay for ethanol and cotton balls You see nobody’s gonna wanna fuck me when my best feature’s my hazel eyes Would I rather a cup of soup, or a gap between my thighs? And nothing tastes as good as skinny feels – I can subsist on needles and skin and apple peels A lighter and spoon will do instead of Prozac Now watch these ribs poke through the flesh on my back. Self-preservation is masturbation. Self-medication is my affirmation. They asked me how did I get this way I asked them, “Do I need a reason?” Well if I need a reason, then how about “Double-A cups are like so in season.” See I can be whoever I want when I stop this car, I can be whoever I want when I stop this car, Yes I can be whoever I want when I stop this car, When I stop this car, when I stop this car (Because I) don’t want to eat (but I want to want to) Don’t want to sleep (but I want to want to) Don’t want to stay (but I want to want to) Don’t want to keep from trying anymore I want to want whatever it is I need (whatever it is I need) And I just don’t want to want whatever makes me bleed Don’t want to fuck (but I want to want to) Don’t want to sleep (but I want to want to) Don’t want to taste (but I want to want to) Don’t want to keep from trying anymore I want to want whatever it is I need (whatever it is I need) And I just don’t want to want whatever makes me bleed You said to me, you haven’t cleaned the dishes in three weeks Well, I haven’t eaten in three weeks either If you want to know why, I’ll tell you A couple of billion years ago, in a hydrogen soup, on some pitch-stained beach It was decided that my eyes would be hazel It’s all a joke, a trick, a celestial extortion I am the abolition of choice; I am destiny’s abortion So go ahead, shove that tube down my throat I’ll deepthroat the fucker. I’ll swallow it all Mushroom soup is my favourite kind Mushroom soup is my favourite kind You can’t save me, just the same as you can’t Save a dog from shitting on the floor Just the same as you can’t save yourself from breathing I can’t create a new physical state I can’t escape from what I’ve made Remember what I said to you I can be whoever I want when I stop this car But I don’t know Driving on the sand you’ll leave track marks So I’ll just keep on spinning my wheels till the end of the night (Because I) don’t want to eat (but I want to want to) Don’t want to sleep (but I want to want to) Don’t want to stay (but I want to want to) Don’t want to keep from trying anymore I want to want whatever it is I need (whatever it is I need) And I just don’t want to want whatever makes me bleed Don’t want to fuck (but I want to want to) Don’t want to sleep (but I want to want to) Don’t want to taste (but I want to want to) Don’t want to keep from trying anymore I want to want whatever it is I need (whatever it is I need) And I just don’t want to want whatever makes me bleed

about

These tracks were mixed to be played loud so turn them up.

"Rape is a culturally fostered means of suppressing women. Legally we say we deplore it, but mythically we romanticize and perpetuate it, and privately we excuse and overlook it (because we always find a way to blame the woman for letting it happen)." - Victoria Billings

Also available on iTunes, Spotify, Amazon, Google Play Music and SoundCloud.

credits

released June 3, 2016

Stephen Moody – Lead vocals
Fionn Murray – Guitar, backing vocals, electronics
Andrew Shovlin – Bass, backing vocals
Jack Doyle – Drums, backing vocals

All music and lyrics by Suzaku Avenue.
All music performed by Suzaku Avenue.
Produced by Chris Barry and Suzaku Avenue.
Engineered and recorded by Chris Barry at Ailfionn Recording Studio.
Mixed and mastered by Michael Richards at Trackmix Recording Studio.
All samples taken from YouTube and Freesound.

Cover photography by Jack Doyle.
Modelling by Lone Tree.
Cover design by Jack Doyle and Fionn Murray.

Copyright Suzaku Avenue 2016. All rights reserved.

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Suzaku Avenue Dublin, Ireland

Post-hardcore/metal - Dublin.

"Sometimes Irish bands come out of the blue to just floor you like this, and it’s incredibly refreshing when they do. Suzaku Avenue have daring musical style that at times sounds like a completely free form, train of troubled consciousness confessional; except you know they’ve worked very hard at crafting it all...

It's not noisecore: it's noir-core." - MetalIreland
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