Everything Is Sateen: Five Songs Inspired by Vonnegut

by The Relastics

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1.
2.
02:45
3.
03:12
4.
5.
05:13

about

1. Euphio - Noise From The Void ("The Euphio Question")
2. No Answer (SLAUGHTERHOUSE FIVE)
3. Use Me (THE SIRENS OF TITANS)
4. Everything is Sateen (BLUEBEARD)
5. Creator (BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS)

credits

released September 28, 2016

All songs written by Susan Hwang
Produced by Charlie Nieland
Recorded by Charlie Nieland at Charlie Nieland Productions in Greenpoint, BK.

Drums - Adam Amram (tracks 1-3), Brian Geltner (track 5)
Backing vocals - Julie Delano (tracks 1-3, 5), Leslie Graves (tracks 1-3,5), Marlon Cherry (Track 5)
Bass - Charlie Nieland (tracks 1,3,5), Zane Van Dusen (track 2)
Guitar - Charlie Nieland (track 5)
Cello - Mia Pixley (track 1)
Accordion and piano - Susan Hwang
Arrangement and instrumentation for SATEEN by Susan Hwang and Charlie Nieland

Album art by Deborah Magocsi

**All songs written for The Bushwick Book Club - the best excuse for a literature-inspired new song there is.***

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Track Name: Euphio - Noise From The Void
Just turn it on.
Your worries will be gone.
Tell your troubles so long.
Just turn it on.

Ah
Bockman’s Euphoria
like the Copacabana.
Just turn it on.

Happiness.
We get a little bit.
We don’t know when to quit.
We just want more of it.
Untill we’re a detriment
to ourselves and our loved ones.
Don’t count on getting anything done. When you've got some.

Who needs hopelessness with happiness like this / The noise from the Void
_____________
Who cares about eating what is that all about.
Who cares if your wife has her tongue someone's mouth.
Or if they’re firing guns in the house.
What else could you be desiring.

Who cares about eating what is that all about.
Who cares if your wife has her tongue someone's mouth.
Or if they’re firing guns in the house.
You’ve just bunged your head on an andiron
Did you leave the time running??
Keep the Euphio coming…

Just turn it on.
Your worries will be gone.
Tell your troubles so long.
Just turn it on.

Ah
Bockman’s Euphoria
like the Copacabana
Just turn it on.
Track Name: No Answer
Let me be a song singing, a dance dancing, a story telling, a life living.
Let me be a sex sexing, a fix fixing, a joke joking, a love loving.

Birds don’t care at all that life’s replete with human woes.
All the people die, it’s po-tee-weet and so it goes...
We are structured to ask why when there really is no answer.
Is it to make us feel like idiots, oh that’s right, there is no answer.
What if Kilgore trout is right about the hum and fear of cancer
The dimensions that make you sick or pregnant, oh right, there is no answer.

No answer....

So don’t have bad sex, but if you do, don’t concentrate on it.
Concentrate on the good sex, and all the good moments…
That’s all we have. We're bugs, in amber.
That’s all we have. Just love and amber.

Can I be a bug trapped in love?
With my old legs and my young

Time… there’s no suspending it.
It’s just suspending
everything we know in it.
Living has to happen in something.
It happens in time…

What you want is not what you get.
We ask questions with no answer.
We’re the nuts in the nougat.
We’re the bugs in the amber.
Let me be a song singing, a dance dancing, a story telling, a life living.
Let me be a sex sexing, a fix fixing, a joke joking, a love loving.
Birds don’t care at all that life’s replete with human woes.
All the people die, it’s po tee weet and so it goes...
We are structured to ask why when there really is no answer.
Is it to make us feel like idiots, oh that’s right, there is no answer.
What if Kilgore trout is right about the hum and fear of cancer
The dimensions that make you sick or pregnant, oh right, there is no answer.
You don’t need a Delorean
If you're a Tralfamadorian.
No answer, no answer no answer no answer
Track Name: Use Me
Get my dress dirty; I’m not here to be clean.
I’m good to nobody if I’m kept all pristine.
Go ahead, break the eggs, get me out of this shell.
I don’t need protection as much as I need to stop avoiding myself.

There are messages I’m sending; half of them I don’t know.
Even when no one’s looking, I still put on a show.
My human nearsightedness can’t see what I say.
I don’t speak Trafalmadorian anyway.

No one’s here so nothing can happen.
No one’s here to be untouched and unmoved.
If I’m here, then I’m here; life’s not something I can refuse.
May as well use me to love you.
I’m here to be used.

Use me to say
money, position, health, handsomeness, and talent aren't everything.
Use me to say
you can be so concerned about being right that your whole life feels wrong.
Use me to say
I know how to get in my own way.
Use me to say
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and I probably never will.
Use me to say
replacement part is getting here soon.
Track Name: Everything Is Sateen
Everything is Sateen
The demons scream
Anything to make them shut up
Go away the way of duraluxe.
Shut up...
Doom would be okay if it would just stay quiet.

But it howls…
I want to listen to Marilee merrily make the best of it.
Endure like Rabo with or without soul on canvas.
who needs ambition
When you make the world fall away..
Even doom is okay
With just one coat of paint.
Give me the color
to keep the howling at bay.
Make me want to stay.
Track Name: Creator
As cruel as Heliogabalus,
he’ll light the fire to hear us scream.
He won’t explain doodleysquat to us,
but wants telegraphic messages on everything.
It’s not anything they teach you in church.
Sometimes I wonder about the creator of the universe

Prostitutes surrender
to their pimps like
they’re surrendering to Jesus
while beautifying their insides
with bad chemicals causing suicide, theft, murder, insanity or worse.
Sometimes I wonder about the creator of the Universe.

Production is breaking
the earth before it can recharge,
and the things that we’re making
are lousy by and large.
Washday products, cat food and pop.
Sometimes I wonder when will it all stop.

Someplace where you’d need
a rubber vagina for lonesomeness
ain’t any place to be
but there doesn’t seem much choice for us.
It's not very fair. It's a little absurd.
Sometimes I wonder about the creator of the universe

I don’t know what it means
all this suffering collectively.
We could be all machines
set to love defectively.
There ain’t no good answer; that’s just how it works.
Sometimes I wonder about the creator of the universe.