ANXIETY

by Trench Party

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    this motherfucker is truly off the chain…it was recorded in the dahlonega apartment bedroom I shared with ann marie last year. some of these tracks are pretty emo(tional) and people have told me they relate to it the most…this cool dude requested the song “confusing to be a man” at a show last month but alex and steven don’t know it yet so I was like sorry man but I gotta teach them that shit because its ill, its ILL! a great great album. also it got on creative loafing's top atlanta music releases of 2010!!!!! what, you don't believe me? fuck you man, check it out: http://clatl.com/gyrobase/top-atlanta-music-releases-of-2010/Content?oid=2576116&storyPage=2

     

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credits

released August 1, 2010

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about

Trench Party Atlanta

my name is jake and I play all the instruments in trench party. I record in my room and independently distribute all my albums for free.

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Track Name: confusing to be a man
I operate on the premise that pride must be achieved through quantifying the aspects of one’s persona that qualify their worthiness to be called a man. I am in equable conflict with my predilection for tenderness; I snuff it like a forest fire to facilitate the vast cultivation of bullshit machismo and this struggle has accorded validation to the inherent compulsion for violence in my primal, animal heart. I feel as though my anger at myself is corroding my ability to cope with existence. I push myself to the fringe of my own sanity by imposing rigor and severity on the conjecture of the daily decisions which constitute my life. I am obsessed with the earning of respect from my peers and I’ll spare no expense to prove my worth to anyone (before I can prove it to myself). This mentality exacts a wrath upon me, shrouding my every thought with an insurmountable pall.
Track Name: the choirboy's revenge
Today I woke up with a feeling things were changing. I figured I’d hop into my car before it rained again. I grabbed my backpack and my keys and walked outside, whistling a tune my mother sang when I was only five. I drove quickly out of my apartment complex, trying to look as if I wasn’t out of context. I parked my car next to the church around the corner and started firing into their electrical transformer and as it burst into flames, raining fire on the church, and I heard the police, a smile crept over my face and the five year old boy in my heart that was raped and abused and threatened with excommunication was finally at peace.
Track Name: hallelujah
It’s true: I rip off everything, from films to records to books on tape. I even sample other singers sometimes. But, by building on this melody of voice sung in ascending keys, I will use it to make a point about a federal crime: What I’m singing is illegal if I choose to ever profit from it. I heard this song just yesterday when I was compiling my resume. A local soft rock radio station played it. It suddenly occurred to me to simply use that melody and change the words so I could say I made it. So I did that, because it’s a good song. I wish I wrote it. Hallelujah!
Track Name: I'm on a thousand downers now I'm drowsy
The demons in my brain kept me awake in my cell at an ungodly hour of the night. I’m so exhausted in this courtroom now I’m very nearly closing both my eyes. I try to focus on the words of the prosecution as they deliberate my life, so as not to appear irreverent to the jury seated to my right. I can feel their hateful spite. They know I killed a man. The press are here to witness me nodding off with my chin in my palm like a dick. I want to tell them I respect the judicial system, I just under-slept, I’m not sick. If it means my freedom back, I’ll gladly feign interest as attorneys argue semantics, if not for every fiber of my physical being being forced to recognize the fact that I need some shut eye quick. The jury returns with their verdict: they say I killed a man. His blood’s on my hands. I’m bound for the can. Oh my fucking god!
Track Name: my give a fuck is busted
Well, I want to sing a song about how I can’t stop using drugs and how my life is out of control and I’m incapable of love because of my various addictions, the satiation of which is all I think about from day to day. I can’t relate to fellow people, I veil myself with substances like crystal meth and crack cocaine and hard alcohol and it’s gotten to the point where I can’t even find the strength to leave my bed without a line or at least a couple beers because I don’t want to feel like a failure! I don’t want to feel like a fake. I don’t want to feel like I’m wasting my time. I don’t care when my life is at stake. Now my girlfriend is quite concerned but I don’t really give a shit. I’m now too nervous to drive unless I’ve railed or fixed a hit and my boss has recently been asking why my eyes are always red. She said there’s been a steep decline in my performance recently. I had a friend who took some shit which he believed was LSD but now we think that it was something else because he had to be hospitalized and forced to undergo psychiatric evaluations but I don’t care; I still drop acid all the time because it’s great. When I drink, I go ballistic. I am hardly ever drunk, I just consume until I pass out but I feel nothing at all. I take pills like they were candy, any kind that I can find. I just want to feel sweet nothing. I just need my peace of mind. I cut myself with razors, all across my arms and knees, as a punishment for hurting all my friends and family. I watch my blood until I get scared that I’ll bleed to death and die, and then I drink a jug of wine and go to sleep for the night.
Track Name: please brutality, part two
Police have turned me into a nervous wreck. Now when I’m driving, I’m shaking, staring into my rearview mirror anticipating red and blue lights flashing, with sirens terrorizing me. when we were 18 they pulled us over under suspicion of drug solicitation. They searched the car while we stood with folded arms wondering what became of the rights ensured to us. That’s when I realized they can do whatever they want. That previous fall I was riding my bike to work when someone struck me with their ford f150. I still can’t remember quite how it happened but when I awoke in a hospital with a split head the cop had written me a warning for “improper lane change”. Now I am 19 and feeling marked for death cause now I’m driving and weeping, staring into my rearview mirror. They’ve found me once again. But this time I’ve decided no one is getting out alive.
Track Name: pollenate for peace
There was once, in a small town, a congestion of parasites. Devoid of culture and civilization, their existence was without plight so the rulers decided the best plan of action would be to occupy all of their thoughts with frivolous technology. And the parasites, they were eager to expedite their oncoming demise by subscribing to the doctrines constructed to enslave their minds. They all bought computers and funded the building of roads in the interest of filling the void that was bred in their hearts by absence of truth and objectivity at home. we are too far gone! We can never look back. All of our problems are without remedy.
Track Name: in the trash where it belongs
Believe what you want to believe, but personally I can’t concede my sense of the awkwardness of making acquaintance. When strangers beckon to me, I feel that the only casualty is myself in this thing called casual conversation and it hurts because I know this anxiety is self-imposed but it’s often hard to discern what a person seeks to learn by initiating dialogue with another when all they get is their internal voices smothered. Social cues and obligatory points of friendly discourse; “How’s it going?” What an empty question. The symbiotic exchange of pleasantries most people make, it rather strikes me as quite like mutual masturbation. Those far too thoughtless to seek the truth in themselves feel compelled just to speak. Without this incessance, their presence would lack validation. They are careful that their voice utters nothing more than noise so as not to blithely burn the esteem they wish to earn.
Track Name: great difficulty
I have great difficulty with dealing with absurdity but it’s the only place I can call home sometimes. The chaos from above is greater than all notions of the order we’ve come to perceive as irrefutable. Everything means nothing all the time. There’s no truth in belief in the divine. It’s a swirling shit-storm and it’ll take you and it’s all very silly and ridiculous but it’ll break you and make you believe. Your mindless institutions count for zip. If you understand anything you’re ill-equipped to live your life. Your brain is not fucking ready for strife. You lose the game. No one to blame, just your inclination to try to maintain.
Track Name: all my friends are dead
All my friends are dead and now I’m lonelier than I have ever been. Their demise was a random and tragic occurrence but I can’t help feeling as though it was neglect of my obligation to protect them which ultimately caused their untimely end. I feel responsible for their deaths. They all had such grand potential, now they’ll never meet their future goals. My friends were blessed with a staggering capacity for art. The things they created were an embodiment of their respective passions. Their artistic endeavors were endearing to no end and now, without lives, their output will forever go unnoticed by the world.