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Ambrosia, Mon Sauvage (Vol. II)

by Sold Kingdom

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1.
Palestrina 02:12
That one night I had a dream: I stood in yellow sunlight Sampling ancient architecture To the strains of Morricone Followed your footsteps up Escher-esque Staircases that stole my breath I’m a calm peripheral fixture My private tears are tough to picture There’s an art to being the one left behind By one who belonged to the world They didn’t know the you I loved (Did I know the you they loved?)
2.
Impunity 01:48
He’s my lifelong pen-pal in prison The grouch I carry a breakfast tray For me it’s only a game Made for children with scissors and paste Our fat egos play chase In an empty train station And cleave together in a chaste Love bed of better-than-thou I turn my camera on, he cheesecakes A starlet splashing in the bath Outside the riffraff die Of the ripples he makes
3.
Pink slip 02:17
He pays for a replacement voice The romantics think it should be me His last effort: a ham-fisted apology But he could bruise his knees for decades And never see how after too many whiskeys When I cast off the rosebud and eyelet My selfhood made him suspicious His play turned into punishment Determined to exaggerate The differences of our nature To know another human Really shouldn’t take that much
4.
Final cut 00:48
This is what “violator” means To think: you were a child alongside me A brutal shriek, the morning breaks On the leftover stumps of my wings
5.
Good plates 01:53
Snapshot of the wedding day Knew better, did it anyway Crash-! the unflinching facade Crash-! cold narration of pain Crash-! the way he’d absolve himself But caricature my tendencies Crash-! practiced flip of the switch Crash-! his WASP conformity Send them sliding down the eaves Smash them on oil-stained concrete I’m the spectre loose in the forest Unapologetically The singular bounty of silk brocade That I was born to be
6.
“…there is nothing holding the lever in position, which means there is nothing holding the spring-loaded striker up. The spring throws the striker down against the percussion cap. The impact ignites the cap, creating a small spark. The spark ignites a slow-burning material in the fuze. In about four seconds, the delay material burns all the way through. The end of the delay element is connected to the detonator, a capsule filled with more combustible material. The burning material at the end of the delay ignites the material in the detonator, setting off an explosion inside the grenade. The explosion ignites the explosive material around the sides of the grenade, creating a much larger explosion that blows the grenade apart. Pieces of metal from the outer casing fly outward at great speed, imbedding in anybody and anything within range. This sort of grenade may contain additional serrated wire or metal pellets for increased fragmentation damage.” (howstuffworks.com)
7.
Oblitterati 01:10
Floods of dots and flecks and specks To drown our self-significance I want to blow us all to bits Freckles on the smug face of the universe Befriend the garish spots that dapple tablecloth and forearm Learn to spare the bugs that startle us but do no harm
8.
I haul my earthly burden to and fro Hammer away in stifling shadow craving A flash of mercy from the devil I know But after one tantrum too many All of a sudden I see Her face as it is: gaunt mask laughing madly And the weight lifts off of me Pistol cocked I dress to depart Borne forward, resolutely

about

Over the years I have found myself fixated on numerous instances of the untold, unsaid, unsung - both in real life and in fiction. My last experimental EP, objets feroces, used this concept in the interest of bringing attention to talented women in the male-dominated and often chillingly misogynist (though undeniably innovative and, to me, inspiring) surrealist movement.

With this EP I attempt to voice women who, though they may have been (or have since become) famous in their own right, nevertheless were not centered in the well-trodden narratives people are mostly likely to know. Thus, the inquiring spectator can only guess at their perspectives. Most of the tracks are based on actual events, while a handful are based on works of fiction. Doing this sort of thing always feels ethically iffy for me when real people are involved, so I am aiming to keep things fairly vague and to grant proper complexity to the speakers, avoiding tropes that would either idealize OR demonize them. I am, however, asking myself that classic question: what’s their motivation? This is especially interesting to me in the cases that involve behavior many would find degrading, because the psychology behind different sorts of self-selected degradation has always fascinated me. This may have something to do with my own middle school experience, but, I digress!

Those who like a puzzle might enjoy trying to figure out who inspired each track, but I am declining to include an answer key, as what I’m really hoping is that these stories transcend specifics to become universal fables of sorts, and allow me to filter some of my own experiences through novel lenses.

The title is me addressing with ironic fondness the scourge that is ragweed, which is in the ambrosia family and which causes me a creeping, sinister kind of low-grade inflammation if I sleep on it and don’t preemptively medicate when the last quarter of the year arrives. The cover clearly depicts amaryllis and therefore makes little sense, other than being a particularly imaginative photograph by my partner and looking fierce in a way that I think captures accurately the tone of this whole operation.

“The more you try to disguise your real feelings, the more they come out.” - Mark Sandman

credits

released March 18, 2024

Cover photo credit: oddjohnphoto

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Sold Kingdom Charlottesville, Virginia

Soothingly brutal bystander balladry

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