This was going to be the week in which I once again managed to write something more substantial to accompany the music. Unfortunately, I ran into many annoying technology-related problems and lost the will to think and write.
I wrote the main musical parts for this song in July 2022, and the lyrics in April 2023. I stumbled on the main piano and bass ideas by accident while messing around with different sequencers on the computer. They reminded me of some of Abdullah Ibrahim’s gentler pieces and so the obvious choice was to add some contorted lyrics and a cacophony of fluttering fairground sounds.1
The song is likely written from the perspective of an unreliable narrator. Is he nihilistic? Is he ironic? Is he in on the joke of his own moral superiority, à la Stewart Lee or does he love his audience too much? A broken record? A stuck clock? Takes one to know one? Is anything the man says even remotely worthwhile?
The album that this song is drawn from is called Pessimism of the Intellect, Pessimism of the Will. If that title distorts Gramsci’s ostensibly inspirational quote into a hopeless nihilism, this particular song might be the inhumane extension of the young Karl Marx’s famous line about “a ruthless criticism of everything existing”. After all, you’re part of everything existing, so get to work! This time next week, I hope you don’t trust yourself at all. See you then!
Well, hello there. I've got some questions for you, along with a few observations. But remember, I don't know nothing, really. Well I don't know about that, But then I don't know nothing really. Well I don't know about that, But hey, you're already listening. Do you wanna change the world, Or do you wanna feel like you matter? Do you wanna change the world, Or live up to your daddy's standards? Do I have a sickness, and did I think you'd be the cure? Or is singing this little song simply all that I can endure? Just get 'em down and let 'em out, show the people what you got, Try to make a little something of yourself, just like you were always taught. Well I don't know about that, But then I don't know nothing, really. Well I don't know about that, But sometimes I do get a feeling. I had times I pretended I knew things, Just so I could fit in, or win, And maybe get one over them or her or even him. And anyway, I probably think a whole bunch of things that you disagree with – And don't I know it! And likely you think a whole bunch of things that are worth nothing much more Than the collection of vegan protein powder scoops located in my kitchen drawer. And maybe you know me better than I know myself? That's unlikely my Kindle consists solely of best-selling self-help. Maybe you think you see right through me (this evening) But you'd be wrong, 'cause somehow you're sitting here, listening to my little song. And they say an audience is the prize these days – It's not really about what you say or what you mean, so long as people see your pretty little face. If a singer sings online but the webpage logs no views, Did they even sing that song if the user did not approve cookie use? If you try to say something deep or shallow or old or new, You better make sure that it fits in with Mr. Daniel Ek's worldview. Well here's what I have to say to them, and you My chosen few. You can all go and fuck yourself. Hey, how's that for viral news? Go take a walk Outside Far away, far far away. And when there's nowhere else for you to go, Stop. Take a breath. And fuck yourself. Well I don't know about that, But then I don't know nothing really. Well I don't know about that, But sometimes I really do like to win. And all that time I didn't know I was waiting for you to stumble in. So I'm about to stop singing, but before I do, all together now: We don't know nothing, And we never really did, We don't know nothing, But we love a little guilt trip. We don't know nothing, But we hold on nonetheless, To the thought that after one more quip, Maybe our crush will be impressed.
The keys, bass, and drums are all processed with James Holden’s group humanizer plugin so that it feels more like a real band losing their minds in the demented fairground. The horns and guitars are me losing my mind live in the demented fairground (my bedroom).