If ou are an avid follower of IndieArto, you will know about the artist called Stuart Newman. He has released a debut album "Single but Defective" and continues making great music. Now I present you with his music Video "Head Hurts". I personally think that this is a great debut music video. Please check out the Stuart Newman interview and also his album review.
Weekly Lyrics Fix: The Antlers - Two
This is just one of those absolutely amazing songs that get stuck in your head and you cannot go a single minute without listening to it. Although the Antlers have released their album Hospice in 2009, they are not close to being old news, this is one of the best albums of last year, even of all time and I really think that it will maintain this position for some time to come.
In the middle of the night I was sleeping sitting up,
When a doctor came to tell me, "Enough is Enough"
He brought me out into the hall, I could have sworn it was haunted,
And told me something that I didn't know that I wanted to hear:
That there was nothing that I could do to save you,
The choirs gonna sing, and this thing is gonna kill you.
Something in my throat made my next words shake,
And something in the wires made the light bulbs break.
There was glass inside my feet and raining down from the ceiling,
It opened up the scars that had just finished healing.
It tore apart the canyon running down your femur,
I though that it was beautiful, it made me a believer.
And as it opened I could hear you howling from your room,
But I hid out in the hall until the hurricane blew.
When I reappeared and tried to give you something for the pain
You came to hating me again, and just sang your refrain:
You had a new dream, it was more like a nightmare.
You were just a little kid, and they cut your hair,
Then they stuck you in machines, you came so close to dying.
They should have listened, they thought that you were lying.
Daddy was an asshole, he fucked you up,
Build the gears in your head, now he greases them up.
And no one paid attention when you just stopped eating.
"Eighty seven pounds!" and this all bears repeating.
Tell me when you think that we became so unhappy,
Wearing silver rings with nobody clapping.
When we moved here together we were so disappointed,
Sleeping out of tune with our dreams disjointed.
It killed me to see you getting always rejected,
But I didn't mind the things you threw, the phones I deflected.
I didn't mind you blaming me for your mistakes,
I just held you in the door frame though all of the earthquakes.
But you packed up your clothes in that bag every night,
And I would try to grab your ankles, what a pitiful sight.
But after over a year, I stopped trying to stop you
From stomping out that door, coming back like you always do.
Well no ones gonna fix it for us, no one can.
You say that, 'No one's gonna listen, and no one understands.'
So there's no open doors, and there's no way to get though,
There's no other witnesses, just us two.
There's two people living in one small room,
From your two half-families tearing at you,
Two ways to tell the story no one worries,
Two silver rings on our fingers in a hurry,
Two people talking inside your brain,
Two people believing that I'm the one to blame,
Two different voices coming out of your mouth,
While I'm too cold to care and too sick to shout.
You had a new dream, it was more like a nightmare.
You were just a little kid, and they cut your hair,
Then they stuck you in machines, you came so close to dying.
They should have listened, they thought that you were lying.
Daddy was an asshole, he fucked you up,
Build the gears in your head, now he greases them up.
And no one paid attention when you just stopped eating.
"Eighty seven pounds!" and this all bears repeating.
"Grizzly Bear Covers Hot Chip"
Since the release of the album Veckatimest Iwonder if Grizzly Bear can do anything wrong? Now my musings have been confirmed, Grizzly Bear are just perfect, below you can download the mp3 of Grizzly Bear covering the song "Boy from School" by Hot Chip, the original song is already amazing and now Grizzly Bear really manages to do justice to the cover. Enjoy FireFly
The Tallest Man on Earth - The Wild Hunt
Kristian Matsson is back, releasing his second full length album on the 13th of April 2010, if this new album "The Wild Hunt" is even slightly up to par with his previous work, we can be sure to expect a exceptional album. I have stumbled upon an mp3 which was released for promotional purposes and all I can say is that The Tallest Man on Earth sounds as great as ever and if you are a fan of his whiny, stringy, two packs a day voice then this will not disappoint you. Check out the mp3 and let me know what you think! Enjoy
The peach farmer’s wickedness By A. Heiden
A little while ago I featured an independent magazine called "Trouble". Well I decided to publish an excerpt form the magazine so that you can get an idea of what trouble is all about. Just a warning for those of you who are a little faint hearted, this might not be for you. Enjoy
The peach farmer’s wickedness
My wife Jenny and I have two conditional rules in our three-year-old marriage ― once a month I am allowed to sleep with a hooker and when she is away for extended periods of time, I am allowed to sleep with our neighbours’ 18-year-old daughter Nancy Smith. Now the only conditions about these two rules are that my wife is never allowed to find out about either the hookers or randy Nancy.
Being a writer, I spend most of my day at home while my wife works at some bank (who’s name I am not allowed to mention) as a consultant. I spend at most about five months a year really writing; the other months are spent promoting whatever I have written and mowing the lawn or something. Depending on my mood and emotional health, some months or years I simply just take off. This means that most often I have a lot of time to kill by practising my hobbies such as growing peaches in our backyard or bedding Mr and Ms Smiths’ youngest daughter.
Nancy’s visits used to be a once-a-week thing due to her possessive boyfriend and her busy schedule as a first-year medical student, but the weekly visits were fine with me since I was only fucking her for the experience of her tight vagina and her fetish to be tied up. Months later when my wife caught us in bed together for the first time, Nancy was getting fucked like a dog with her head forced into the pillow and her hands tied behind her back ― a scene my wife labeled as “barbaric” and “distastefully brutal”.
After about a month of screwing around, Nancy dumped her possessive boyfriend which meant that we were able to play on a daily basis. Each morning after my wife left for work, Nancy would attend her first class of the day which usually involved biting and bondage. The sweet “ding dong” sound of the front doorbell ringing while I laid in bed reading the paper went as well with my coffee as blasphemy. My first-touch with sunlight for the day would usually be when I open the door for Nancy. Her routine ― yet irritating and redundant ― question of “Is the lovely wife gone?” would usually be the only words out of her mouth not dictated through screams. I usually respond by saying: “I am going to fuck you so hard you are going to split in half.” Nancy’s daily visits opened up the windows to both experimentation and wariness. When my wife caught us for the second time together I was once again entering Nancy from a rear position. This time the words “In here” were written on Nancy’s lower back with a black marker and an arrow was pointing towards her anus ― unlike the previous time, my wife refrained from making a comment.
My affair with Nancy became the oyster garden for my inspiration as a writer, but not for my life. Even though a lot of work was being done behind the typewriter and behind the 18-year-old sexual prodigy, I kind of became bored with life. Screwing Nancy behind my wife’s back was exciting to a certain extend, but I had a bigger lust for wickedness. At the tender age of 27 I have achieved tremendous success by means of simply minimising my workload and maximising my self-confidence and persistency. But despite all of that, I have simply run out of ways to enjoy the simple things in life. It started to feel that every day I lived and every single thing I did was just another forgettable moment that has passed. The more I searched for excitement the more erratic my behaviour became, especially my new-found habit of touching myself while in conversation.
My sudden change in behaviour and my refusal to go for therapy did raise some questions among my loved ones, especially my beloved wife (who won’t learn about my and Nancy’s affair for another three months). Jenny was starting to feel guilty and she admitted that due to her long hours at the office, she was neglecting me. I wasn’t that bothered by Jenny’s “negligence” because I was too busy fucking Nancy and maintaining my mini orchard to even notice that there was a distance growing between me and my wife. I was however very amused by the irony of the entire situation since I was convinced that my wife was having an affair with a co-worker, Michelle Olwagen. My suspicions of my wife having an extramarital relationship with a female co-worker didn’t bother me even the slightest bit; for starters, I was busy fucking a barely legal teenager on a daily basis and secondly, it’s not like some other guy was putting his fat cock inside my wife. And even though I have never met or seen Michelle Olwagen before in my life, I knew someone very well who knew her very well.
It was a Thursday evening and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky when I drove through the city on my way back from a meeting with my publisher. I was waiting for the green light at a robot when my eye caught two superfine women standing on the street corner; the one was smoking a cigarette and the other one was exchanging words with a distinctive gentleman who looked like a policeman. Judging by the way the women were dressed and the quality of the area, the thought that they were hookers didn’t even pass through my mind ― I would rather have mistaken them for two power-dressed lawyers than streetlovers. But when they approached my car with a charismatic “Hey there, you” I knew that they are the type of women who only accepts cash.
Now I have never really gone as far as my brother to actually sleep with one of the princesses of twilight, but it has always been somewhat of a hidden desire and definitely in the top spot of my to-do list. If this part of my life had a chapter, I would have called it: “Meeting the other end of the rope”.
Prostitutes have always been similar to a good movie to me. If a lot of different people pay money to go see a movie, it is most certainly a box-office hit. The same goes for a prostitute. If many different guys, who could rather fuck their wife or girlfriend, would go so far as to pay a woman to fuck her, then her box must surely be a hit.
The two prostitutes that approached my car must have been somewhat of an upper class or new to the business, because they were too well groomed for a hooker ― especially the way the one’s pubic hair was trimmed into the shape of a half-moon. The same night I saw the one prostitute’s moon-shaped pubes, I learned that she does prostitution as a part-time job and to “watch people act frail”. I found this absolutely intriguing.
That first night I met my two new friends ― Moonflower and Gothgirl69 ― I bought them both. They were so cheap, it was literally a buy one get one free special. I took them to a Holiday Inn near my house because it would raise the minimum amount of suspicion and most importantly, it was convenient for me. Since I am the type of guy who has enough confidence in his sexual performance, I don’t do threesomes or orgies. So when we approached the elevator, I told Moonflower to kindly wait in the bar area while I take her friend, Gothgirl69 (which turned out to be a competitor), to the hotel room so we could get things up to business. After I did both of them and paid for their drinks while they waited their turn, I gave them their money and assured them that we would hook up again ― I did, however, only continue seeing Moonflower.
From there on it became a regular thing. The sex I had with the prostitute, Moonflower, was passionate and gentle and the sex I had with Nancy was violent. My wife, who still haven’t found out about my affairs, kept on working long hours and I was still convinced that she was sleeping with that Michelle girl. Now and then my wife would query on the bite marks and bruises on my body. Once when I contracted a mysterious rash on my dick (most likely from Nancy, but it turned out to be Moonflower), I narrowly escaped being caught out before telling my wife that I got the rash from her and that she might be suffering from some fungus on her virginal area (luckily for me, Jenny just happened to have a fungus on her left lip which she contracted from Michelle).
It was close encounters like these that made me master the art of lying to Jenny, usually about the origin of my injuries. Sometimes I even confused Jenny into believing that she gave them to me during some sexual brawl.
“Those are your handy work my love,” I would often say to her before accepting her apology which was usually followed by a missionary-style fuck. It is when the sex life you share with your wife is degraded to plain old missionary style that you know that the spark is gone. But in the rare times that I did however made passionate love to my wife, it was usually with anger ― not the angry sex that I had with Nancy, but the type of angry sex that says, “What the fuck have we done to each other?” Sometimes Jenny wanted our lovemaking to be soft and gentle; I preferred thrusting her like I was paying to do so.
The morning my wife caught me with Nancy for the second time, I thought that it was over for sure. It was only after an embarrassed Nancy left and my wife and I sat down at the kitchen table that she confessed to having an affair. My wife told me that she was suffering from depression and that the affair was with a female colleague; she further told me that her lover had decided to end their eight-month affair after meeting a man. As I held my wife I felt her tears running down my chest ― which still carried the aroma of Nancy’s pussy― and at that moment I told her that I only slept with Nancy three times and that she caught us two out of the three times. But whether my wife believed me or not about the “three times” I had been with Nancy, it was the truth when I told her that I would never see Nancy again. After four months with Nancy, we have literally exhausted our imaginations and our sexual abilities ― there was simply nothing more humanly possible that we could do in the bedroom.
After my wife confessed to her affair with Michelle Olwagen, we didn’t separate. It had absolutely no affect on our relationship as most people would imagine. We did however start to have somewhat of a steamier sex life ― Jenny even allowed me to butt-fuck her ― and she also started seeing a therapist to help her deal with her depression. Jenny and I agreed to work harder at our marriage, but I wasn’t able to let Moonflower go. With Nancy out of my life and my wife under the impression that the holes in our marriage were all patched up, I was able to continue my affair with the prostitute. One evening when my wife was out with friends, I invited moonflower over to our house for the first time. She told me that due to the feelings she started to have for me after months of sleeping together, it was no longer necessary for me to pay her. She sex that followed was the worst sex I ever had with Moonflower; I guess since money was no longer involved it just wasn’t the same. That night was the final straw in my marriage. When my wife caught me for the third time with another woman, she did have a comment.
“So this is the jerk you have left me for, Michelle?”
