Feersum Enjiin

by Ross Gilchrist

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Adam Wilson Quite possibly one of my favourite albums. Proper smile on the face brilliance from start to finish. As joyous as a rainbow having an orgasm. Favorite track: I Might Be Crazy, But....
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about

A homemade labor of love from Burns Country, Ayrshire Scotland, 'Feersum Enjiin' is an album made out of spit and glue. Punk spirit, pop tunes. Now released in a jewel case cd by our friends at Newtown Products.

www.newtownproducts.com

Press-

"...fucking awesomely fearsome..."

"If Brian Wilson could have got his arse out of the sandpit then maybe this is what he would have delivered..."

"Effortlessly breaking down barriers and working across gender, age and genres... "

-It's A **** Thing

itsaxxxxthing.blogspot.com


"Gilchrist’s Feersum Enjiin is loud, catchy, wickedly funny and one of the most bonkers things I have ever heard."

-lastyearsgirl

lastyearsgirl.pixlet.net


'Like' = www.facebook.com/drrosko

credits

released April 15, 2011

Ross Gilchrist- All noise

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Ross Gilchrist Cumnock, UK

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Track Name: Fucking Awesome Feersum Enjiin
Where we were, Elysian idyllic.
Dormantly tectonic.
Milk and honey, milk and honey pours away,
Promised yet still it's gone.
From green to ruin,
You attempted to bear the cross
I laid us on myself.
And by all accounts,
You had waited long enough.
I guess Godot and me got
Stuck at the bar now!

You thought that you fucked it up,
But only for a week, now!
Oh, what was the catalyst,
For this remiss into this glissando
That our hearts took the the abyss!

And I swear to you I'm so fuckin awesome now!
I'm doing so awesome now! (AM)
No (I) I'm (FUCK!) DOING AWESOME!
This feersum enjiin has been released, been released.
This feersum enjiin's not at peace, not at peace.

Now I could wrap this fucker up in metaphor, (That requires effort, though!)
But wheels fucked up and burning is how I roll, (Or so he'd like to think!)
I guess this one's for the road,
And it's my only little bit of wisdom now,
Cause if I was you I'd have said,
Fuck me too, now baby,

You thought that you fucked it up,
But only for a week, now!
Oh, what was the catalyst,
For this remiss into this glissando
That our hearts took the the abyss!

And I swear to you I'm so fuckin awesome now!
I'm doing so awesome now! (AM)
No (I) I'm (FUCK!) DOING AWESOME!
This feersum enjiin has been released, been released. (Just keep lying, boy! Just keep crying, boy!)
This feersum enjiin's not at peace, not at peace. (Just keep lying, boy! Just keep crying, boy!)
Track Name: Life Is How You Look At It
Life Is How You Look At It

There are so many people that claim that they know pain,
But this is the era of the self obsessed human race
So James Blunt and Damien Rice
What the fuck has hurt you, you ever had a nervous breakdown?
Well here it is...

Hey, life is great today

Everybody thinks they've had it the worst, but they just sit around and listen to Coldplay.
Middle class white-boys dating actresses thinking they're hard done by.
So if you're one of them I got a little bit of advice for you right now.

Life is how you look at it.

There's a roof over your head, you've got clean water, food and clothes on your back,
You're free the illusion is you've been chained to a life someone else has mapped out for you.

Life is how you look at it
Perception is reality
Track Name: Bums On Seats, Lady!
The overture ends and hormonal enjiined egos
Bring their issues to the stage.
Archetypes play archetypes, they blew the fourth wall to fuck
And in its wake is left a squirm worthy allegory, right now!
Mise en scene!? That's no mise en scene!
It's fate throwing ironic rocks and heckling your small-time ways
So play it like it's Shakespeare, brother,
And swing it like it's Satchmo, brother.
For with the most violent of hefts I have drunk and seen the spider

(On the scene)
Is that a prop from my own kitchen now?
(Fate is cruel)
Got a hell of a sense of humour though.
(The chorus cries)
In superficial tears of empathy.
(They called it Grease)
But it sounds like arses sliding off the seats.

The curtain call ends and hormonal enjiined egos,
Drink themselves into stupors.
Desires (much like fires) burn in oft repeated scenes
So they can re-enact the dirty dancing on the fly like Patrick Swayze's queens!
Mise en scene!? That's no mise en scene!
It's fate throwing ironic rocks and heckling your small-town ways
So play it like it's Shakespeare, brother,
And swing it like it's Satchmo, brother.
For with the most violent of hefts I have drunk and seen the spider!

(On the scene)
I could have sworn that they were cousins now.
(Fate is cruel)
Most definitely unusual.
(The chorus cries)
It's superficial tears of empathy.
(They called it Grease)
But it's just my arse that's sliding out the door.
Track Name: I Might Be Crazy, But...
I Might Be Crazy, But...

Truth is subjective for observation changes every outcome
And as the sun died and all averted their eyes
I was singularly fixated on a singularity.
And when my eyes reopened I knew...
that somehow I had survived.


I might but crazy, but
Who are you (x3)
Gonna compare me to?

Hero?: The repulsive and reprehensible rabble turned their eyes from the cosmic calamity, ignoring the single most important event in the history of humanity. The mongrel miasma of myriad migrations were blinded by the molten mandala of their sudden extinction while my heart leapt with joy.

By some freak of fantastic circumstance
I found the street in an uncannily beautiful silence
And upon investigating the alleyways and the avenues
I discovered that the dregs, the damned and the demonsterous
Had granted me a boon and gifted me a still and clean and now quiet earth

I might be crazy, but
Who are you (x3)
Gonna compare me to?

Now I walk the streets in a veritable daze
I don a dress in the back seat of a van
Then just before I try and find somewhere to sleep
I make (for) my homestead
Where my feather bed is
I'm watching 'Bad Boy Bubba' drinking champagne.
I raise a glass to God,
For throwing me a bone and
Excluding me from the fate of the slime.
But as the final scene plays out
And the still lingers on his smile,
An icy needle bores, through the inside of my chest.

Hero?: Not in all my years had I ever thought that the death rattle of earth would be the echoes of my own footsteps reverberating off of empty homes and office buildings. It's no small wonder that the degenerate-ridden streets had indeed housed useful automatons, as I soon discovered. Quickly running out of supplies on the way home and having to assume the role of what could only be described as a cave-dwelling gatherer. Nevertheless, I find myself in need of, at the very least, the illusion of a civilised society and at the pinnacle of what became desperation I resolved to indulge myself in activities of a somewhat decadent cast.
For there was no judge, no jury and only the dead left to dishonour.

I might be crazy but...
Track Name: a priori (Of Open Microphones)
Do you drive your car at night alone to see the 37 lives per hour
Progress then pass to roads not followed?
Do you stand on bridges looking back
To where water has deemed it unfit to stay
As the moon hallowed by stars
Is falling at our backs

I wished to know the deepest workings of simple things
I wished to know if your faith suspended could ever fall
increscunt amini, virescrit volnere virtus

Do you curse the day you thought of hope
Or even redemption from mistakes you made
And slept alone on a bed of dreams
Do you understand that love is not misguided
Nor ever unwilling to shed it's base in instinct
And yet stay pure
Track Name: Pushing Flowers
Pushing Flowers

It's been a long ten years
Of walking in circles around hearts
And I may have gotten a little lost
Just a little lost
No, I've been drowning in forgotten seas
Though my friends try to drag me to the shore
Just to raise a smile

The seemingly severed meristems of my cerebrum are
Pushing flowers through the cracks in my skull
Hallelujah, now I feel i can help them bloom

Surely it hasn't been ten years
Someone speeded up our
Rotation around the sun
But I got a little confession to make
I am lost in myself and I'm very terrified of life
And this weed is making me paranoid
So I better go, I better go back home

The seemingly severed meristems...
Track Name: Miskatonic Musings (Part 1)
Miskatonic Musings

I said it was a beautiful day
Down in Arkham Massachusetts
I was walking down by the Miskatonic river
When I met this girl I never knew existed.
She said, "Son, whatcha gonna do?
Now you're standing at the crossroads?"
I said, "I'll smoke a cigarette,
And wait for my appointment"

There were rumblings beneath the earth
Down in Arkham Massachusetts
She was giving me the eye,
Soul piercing and revealing
Speaking without moving those ruby lips
She took me to a hill
Crowned with bloody standing stones
And screamed into the wind
In tongues of beautiful blasphemy

Bare breasted before the moon
Above Arkham Massachusetts
We filled her belly, with Miskatonic children
As unholy as the manner in which they were conceived.
She said, "Son whatcha gonna do?
Now the stars align before you."
He said, "Mother, I'll ensure,
Arkham knows no love again."
Track Name: The Most Fighting-est Champions
The Most Fighting-est Champions

Everything dies every 65 million years (oh don't you know it does)
And we're long so overdue,
That we better break out the Jäger and grow on a grin
We had a good run!
All of us bar the host had a good one now,
(because we're)
The most decadent, deliberate, bastards to
Set foot on the planet since T-Rex was picking vegans off the floor.
And we did with H-bombs and we did it with style.
We blew holes in the sky and invented mayonnaise,
In a Technicolor parallax filled, beer-o-scopic haze.
Which we...
We did it as James Bond, we did it as Brains
We did it as Solid Snakes with vampire stakes mopping up
Mopping our man juices off the floor,
The cake from our t-shirts and the swill from our troughs

And I'm all for it,
This bouncing up and down
In a universe we don't understand and if we did
(woah), if we did, we simply wouldn't be
The most violent, vile bastards to set foot on the planet since T-Rex was picking vegans off the floor. (woah woah oh)

Volcano's will blow every couple of hundred years
A simple reminder that the universe is out to kill us
So smoke up a bowl and
Celebrate the run
All of us bar the host had a good one now
Cause we're the most decadent....

We're bursting our heads trying to work out this great cosmological dance that is going on beneath and above and all around us.
Wherein each discovery creates it's own offspring to the agonizing bewilderment of its father, over and over again, like some kind of quantum Russian doll
Which will probably just keep on continuing until our synapses explode in a celestial array of such awesome grandeur that we will simply go mad in it's wake and- party on down...

Cause we're the most fighting-est champions of the universe
And we're the most fighting-est champions until we're challenged at all
Cause we're the most fighting-est champions of the universe
And we're the most fighting-est champions until we're travelled at all
Track Name: Sin While It's Good
If Christ's church bells ring solely for the meek
Then angels rest on jagged brimstone seats
For the first new book was writ again
By an impostor's tainted pen, saying,
"When sacred bond is split in two,
Life must always begin anew"
For in hushed halls do deacon and reverend speak
Of their flock and their sinning for the week

Sin while the sinning is good
The blind deaf crux of wasted youth
Sin while the sinning is good
The soul sickens and festered food

At 11 years old, I was an innocent child
At least I thought I was an innocent child
I thought, "If God wants me to go to hell"
"I'll gladly walk on coals and twisted feet"
"If I can't earn a cloudy seat"

And this is a license granted
Preached not performed and iconoclastic
Track Name: 21st Century Blues
21st Century Blues


Well I'm a big monkey now
And I can articulate what I want
I want sugar, I want fat, I want salt
I want caffine, I want coke.
I want a smoke, I want my beers
I want chasers and phasers
And bright lights and lasers
I want peace and quiet
The city life and the simple life
I want to be beautiful on the outside
Beautiful on the inside
I want to be free but I wouldn't mind a ball and chain
I want to be happy but it's too cool being miserable
I want to see dragons
I want to see aliens
I want to be a celebrity, but I'm actually just fine being me

These are the 21st century blues
And your Big Mac will come anyway

Well she's a big monkey now
And she articulate what she wants
She wants low fat, she wants shoes
She wants low salt, decaff and respect
She wants her food, she wants sleep she wants
Dresses and caresses and chick flicks and gossip
She wants to go clubbing, shopping sprees and staying in
She wants to be beautiful on the outside
Beautiful on the inside
She wants to get married but she's too scared of asking
She wants to be happy but something always needs changing
She wants to see beaches, she wants to see tourist spots
She wants to be rescued but she likes her hair the way it is

These are...

We're all big monkeys now,
And we're well aware of what we're in for
We're in store for prozac, sore backs heart attacks and strokes
We're in for repeats, unsafe streets we're in,
For terrorism as a schism to big business decisions
We're in for no alternative but working till we're 75
We've got chemicals for the outside, chemicals for the inside
We think that we're free but we're working in the morning
Our souls are made made of plastic cast from stereotype moulds
We all have a nameless and deep-seated yearning
To do something momentous but the TV's great Tuesday night

There are the 21st Century Blues
And desire will expand with the sea.