Songs about rats, whores, posion, and the big heartbreak


Just drain me
Don’t look for me
Don’t touch me
Don’t come visit me
Don’t say a word
Just close your eyes
See if you remember me
Disappear with me
Just get rid me

When You Finish Me

Pall Jenkins‘ voice, caressing, somewhat cynical, opens the door into the world of doom, roller coasters, fear and an overly restrained anger.

Teeth grinding, a war of jaw against jaw, it sharpens the edges of teeth, the same teeth that are doomed to be at the center of this battle. They say that a crocodile’s jaw can close on you with the weight of a few tons. I don’t know how strong the jaw of a human being is, but I certainly don’t want to be inside this specific mouth.

The piano of When You Finish Me, the opening song of Six, the Black Heart Procession‘s masterpiece, is the essence of this album. Dramatic chords, repetitive piano, a piano that has some Jukebox in it, that can also contain the innocent look of a little girl who holds her teddy bear and examines her parents’ house after it was burnt to ashes. This is the album.

Great darkness is brooding, not letting any light in. A group of men wearing shiny tuxedos, all have long straight hair. Some of them are standing on a pile of earth and talk about Nick Cave. As they talk, they bury Satan himself in the sand, still moist from the morning chill, they take a good look at him before they start covering his face in the sand.

Heavy groove and heavenly voices from above, brings this Ennio-Morricone vibe, throw the protagonists in this story to a Western/Hitchcock thriller. This is the real story in this album. A Group of men arrives in the wilderness, the day after the bomb; the morning of atonement day. All they see in this wilderness is assortment of broken hearts dancing on pavements. These men actually came there on a mission: First thing, they will tear your heart out, and then you take hold of Satan, kill him and bury him in the moist earth. Oh, don’t forget to talk about Nick Cave. (Wasteland)
Witching Stone

Witching Stone, According to my LastFM account, is a song I’ve heard 17 times in the last week, not including the times I’ve listened to it in my player on the bus – to work and from work. This song has charm and magic. Charm and magic are nothing new with this band, but this song is exceptional, it has this extra that pulls my ear and addicts me. I opens with I can hear the needle drop, I can find the perfect spot, my heart is about to explode.

Go to sleep, let your demons run around tonight, get out of your body, take a stroll in wasteland, on empty streets – where pieces of paper fly from one side of the pavement to the other side. There is nothing there since you’ve left your life in a dark alley, there’s nothing to look for in this entire city. The only things you can find there are disgusting rats with bloody eyes, looking for bodies of whores lying on sidewalks, in a stinking poetic justice of a post-war world, in a song  that’s’ anything R.E.M could have been if Stipe would have been half as dark as Jenking. (Rats)

Heavy snare drum with big echo and a Hammond, occasionally flickering at the beginning of Heaven and Hell continue the slow, heavy tour on the border of Tom Waits meeting Murder Ballads and a Christian Neutral Milk Hotel scent, looking for heaven, looking for hell.

Drugs is a break in the heaviness of this album: a beautiful piano ballad about someone who wants to totally feel his connection with his love: I took your poison to see how you suffer, and I took your drugs to see you high. There is something addictive in the will to absorb your love with every cell of your body. It’s a problematic sensation, like inhaling too much oxygen at once or like eating 2 ice cream scoops in ten seconds until you forehead blows to pieces. Life is all about balance and when something disturbs this balance they will find a way to tell you about it. Jenkins and his band should have known better, they’ve been through 6 albums of this kind, magic and love covered with poison, whores and dead and rats. And still, once a fool always a fool, for this scanty sensation, and even scantier chance, he is willing to turn into the tiniest grain of sand on the beach, waiting for something to wash it away.

Oh, look what you’ve done to me, look at my tears, forget my heart. Don’t lie to me, nothing can be worse and anything you’ll say will break my heart. I love you more any day that goes by, but it doesn’t really matter because anything I do just distances me from you. Everything is ok, now you cry, and I’ve have my share of abusing you, and all this story is a giant boomerang flying directly towards me. They say that you can tell the truth about Paul McCartney if you put a mirror in the middle of ‘Pepper’ album cover. The mirror that you can put on the life of Jenkins – the lyrics writer and BHP – the band, will return at them like a giant boomerang that will carve their hearts. The rats will drink this stinking poisoned blood.
Last Chance

My demons are calling me from afar, from empty deserts, from wastelands, from people wasted in war. You, they are coming to take you, your soul cannot escape. This is the strangest life I ever knew. I will never forget your eyes, for in them I’ve found heaven and hell. This blues, baby, is my last chance of survival. If I don’t escape now, I’m a dead man.

Sing me a lullaby
I need you to sing me a lullaby
I need to cast way this fear
And this terror
They are taking me to the desert
To wasteland
Trapping my soul inside a big thistle
Throwing me into closed units
Into white robes
I need to get out of there, baby
Pour some blood in this goblet
Let me drink it
If I’m not going to make it
At least the last taste in my mouth
Would not be the taste of disappointment.

Black Heart Procession is a band of six people from San-Diego, but who cares about this stuff anyway.

Get it (Insound)

This entry was posted in Album reviews and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.