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Batch 1 : Journeys to an Interior

by How Garbo Died

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1.
Casualties Union 06:03
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Exits close Frustration grows Am I long for this world? Cords from blinds Railway lines My white flag unfurls Who laughed at Nagasaki? The waves come to take me Another slave to reason The changing of the seasons We're an army of deserters We're a gang of frauds We're the casualties union We'll die with a wink and a nod We're an army of deserters We're a gang of frauds We're the casualties union We'll die with a wink and a nod Spectres haunt The past it taunts With reminders of mistakes Remnants still Yesterday's ills My troubles conflate Who laughed at Nagasaki? The waves come to take me Another slave to reason The changing of the seasons We're an army of deserters We're a gang of frauds We're the casualties union We'll die with a wink and a nod
2.
The Secret Life 05:28
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The secret life of an alcoholic Is smeared with shame Cloaked in insecurity Divorced of all blame Buy me another drink Did I ask you what you think? I've had enough when I say I have I've had enough now The secret life of an alcoholic Is on an endless loop Headaches, Hangovers, Dregs And general disrepute Buy me another drink Did I ask you what you think? I've had enough when I say I have I've had enough now You stand under the shower For an hour at a time You debate Camus With a bottle of red wine When the time draws near Your manners - they disappear And everyone you love Gets it in the ear Buy me another drink Did I ask you what you think? I've had enough when I say I have I've had enough now
3.
Convalescence 06:28
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An existential crisis before I've left the bed The promise of another day trapped within my head Why must you always wear the grimace on your face? Why must we always move at such a violent pace? Someone once told me: That comfort replaces love Apathy grows from trust Infatuation turns to disgust An existential crisis before I've left the bed The promise of another day trapped within my head Why must we move from one crisis to another? Why must we pour sand on which we must uncover? Someone once told me: That comfort replaces love Apathy grows from trust Infatuation turns to disgust Perhaps this song is about you Or any of the others Refugees from under my covers Refugees from under my covers Someone once told me: That comfort replaces love Apathy grows from trust Infatuation turns to disgust
4.
Love is an Opiate 07:36
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Love is an opiate You are the conduit A vessel of obedience A beacon of expedience I am a human being You know how I feel Joints that dislocate Sound that reverberates Love is an opiate Now you perform for me You forget so easily The night that we broke through Do not try to misconstrue Love is an opiate Now you perform for me You forget so easily The night that we broke through Do not try to misconstrue What you shared with me The subsequent epiphany
5.
Hopeless Semantic 04:38
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In my head I reenact porn I've seen With ex girlfriends Scene by scene While in my bed I indifferently tug At my appendage With a knowing shrug No I don't have the means To justify your ends No it's not what it seems Just a man who twists and bends When you're near All my lust dissolves As your pretty face Strengthens my resolve You disappear And I suffer relapse As my arrogance Shatters our synapse No I don't have the means To justify your ends No it's not what it seems Just a man who twists and bends If I could explain this feeling then I would Masturbate in attempt to lift my mood I haven't left the bed in days I lay awake recounting the ways We used to make love
6.
Delusions of Grandeur 04:49
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The contents of my stomach Lay in the sink downstairs Mixed in with blood and vomit That caught me unawares To feel like I was someone A naive ambition I should remember who I am And stick to my position But I guess that's what I get For having ideas above my station A hopeless disappointment And a premature cremation With eyes of burst blood vessels And teeth well past decayed My youthfulness drains from me In a bed, as yet, unmade I try to find some solace In a superior pretense Vast knowledge of art and music Severe lack of common sense To feel like I was someone A naive ambition I should remember who I am And stick to my position But I guess that's what I get For having ideas above my station A hopeless disappointment And a premature cremation With dreams and my actions Make me contradict myself An artistic disposition A propensity to wealth I'm pregnant with ambition But my laziness abounds And as fragile as a bubble My potential still surrounds My potential still surrounds
7.
Spirit in the Underpass 08:02
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The spirit in the underpass Has dwelled here for years The spirit in the underpass Thrives on your fears Throws cyclists to the ground Talks but never makes a sound How could you be so crass? The spirit in the underpass The spirit in the underpass Defender of our estate The spirit in the underpass Carrier of our dead weight Expunge Paedophiles from our street Cradles us in our conceit From our first breath to our last The spirit in the underpass Time protects you Time protects me Time forgets you Time forgets me

about

Greetings friend,

Welcome to the first in a series of home recorded releases from How Garbo Died.
First, a brief background: How Garbo Died is a two-piece electro/post punk/experimental band consisting of Kevin Gilday (vocals) and Robbi Pinkerton (guitar/bass/drum programming/everything else). Formed in April 2010 from the remnants of a failed project, How Garbo Died soon set about streamlining the writing process and stripping back traditional notions of how a band should operate – in the process fostering the concept of this release.
The Home Recordings are intended to be a series of snippets of the different aspects of our work – released in 7-track “batches” we want these to act as brief snapshots of where we are as the band continues to evolve. Recorded in the Garbo Cave (that’s Robbi’s spare room to everyone else), we hope that what these recordings lack in nuanced production they regain in artistic endeavour.
This first batch, Journeys to an Interior, is by no means the best batch of songs we have ever written. So why release it to be mocked by the general public?
Chronology. Chronology and ego.
We would like you to understand the genesis of our music in order to better comprehend it’s progression. So here we have a band finding it’s musical feet, trying genres on for size from the dressing up box of the recent past – we start to combine the twin lexicons of electro and post punk (Casualties Union), we try our hand at full blown electronica (Love is an Opiate, Delusions of Grandeur), rock out (The Secret Life) and flirt with the possibilities of post rock (Spirit in the Underpass).
More than any other impulse it is posterity that is dictating us recording in this manner. Singles, EPs and Albums will be edited to perfection but we want The Home Recordings to stand as a testament to the ideas in between – sometimes the most important ideas are the ones you have to leave behind.

Regards,

How Garbo Died

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released December 1, 2010

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How Garbo Died Glasgow, UK

How Garbo Died are two men and some machines.

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