Fax from 93

[Intro - whispered, warped like tape rewind] (Kinski... you again...) This ain’t retro... it’s relapse. [Slowly starting instrumentals] [Verse 1] Spit analog dreams through a Bluetooth speaker Masked like Klaus with a Halloween feature Grew up on late nights, burnt toast and boom bap Now I’m an old white geezer with a spliff in my cap [Record scratches] Car-park lights on a discount tracksuit Rhymes drippin’ irony, boots full of black soot Recorded this hook in a Lidl car park Over a loop of my own existential bark [Pre-Chorus - sung, psychedelic reverb] I don’t chase the charts, I chase weird thoughts Kept my best ideas in a cardboard box Made a beat outta dial-up and dread Kinski, resurrectin’ the undead [Instrumentals] [Chorus] This ain’t a song, it’s a breakdown with drums Held together loosely with tape, spit and gum No fame, no filter, no major deal Just bad ideas and a four-track reel [Instrumentals] [Verse 2] I ghosted my therapist, now I drop EPs About stoner rock dreams and capitalist disease Wrote an album on a Polaroid lens Shot it through a fax, sent it straight to my friends Said: “Kinski, you weird.” I said: “Bless.” My style got panic attacks in a vintage dress Got hooks like paradoxes, kicks like despair I’m that band you saw once that was never there [Chorus] This ain’t a song, it’s a breakdown with drums Held together loosely with tape, spit and gum No fame, no filter, no major deal Just bad ideas and a four-track reel [Instrumentals] [Verse 3] Built a basement out of feedback and friends Where the song nobody wanted gets heard to the end Passed the mic through a half-lit room Made a little scene where the strange songs bloom Still no master plan, just a Thursday night Two songs too long and the levels too high If the whole thing folds, let the tape still hiss Turns out Kinski was the room I missed [Bridge - spoken, deadpan] Warning: Side effects of Kinski may include Sudden nostalgia, laughter in inappropriate settings, Grunge flashbacks, and mild paranoia. Consult your local noise poet for more info. [Record scratches] [Final Chorus] Kinski, wearing out your trends Smoking in the basement, ghostin’ all your friends From cassette to regret, I loop and infect Noise pop prophet with a dialect defect [Instrumentals] [Slow, detuned] Fallin’ into me... Fallin’ into feedback... Fallin’ into Kinski... [Instrumentals fade out] Fallin’ into me... Fallin’ into feedback... Fallin’ into Kinski... [Record scratches] (Kinski... the greatest.)