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Rating: Writing is difficult.
It's difficult to write about music, it's difficult to write about life. Let's not even start on religion and politics, well, it's better to leave those where they are, it's all the same anyway. So what do I write about? I could talk about life with Kiu, full of unfettered laughter and delirium. I could talk about Marco and his way of being, and how I owe him gratitude for seeing in me what I wanted someone to see. I could talk about my father, my family, and the endless and tedious quarrels that seem to be their only reason for living.
Or maybe I could talk about why I can't write about music, because every time I put on a COOL album like the one I'm listening to now and feel like 'reviewing' it, or rather, just expressing my opinion about it, I'm overwhelmed by an immense sense of inferiority compared to the other people who write on this site who know a lot more.
What should I say? Should I perhaps talk about the artist, in this case, God Patton, who is currently screaming, then stops and softens, should I perhaps talk about his varied and prolific artistic career, about what he has done, is doing, and will do, get online, search for news, masturbate. Maybe I should do that, reduce it all to a simple treatise, impossible and tedious as this pseudo non-review piece you've endured so far.
Instead of saying what I really think, that is, this first Tomahawk album is a real trip, which makes me think of trashy fake chic hotel rooms with black sheets and lines of coke spread out on the table. It makes me think of a ride on Xarabas's rollercoaster, a scream that is a whisper, a constant tease of the senses, the fears, the desire to go beyond. That voice that becomes more and more authoritative, oh god what I'd let Mike do to me, rather what I'd do with Mike, take me and do whatever you want, even though... darn... he doesn’t like guys and neither do you, despite being his GOD.
I should perhaps talk about his lyrics, but who listens to them, it's enough for me to hear his voice on Honeymoon or Jockstrap, he could even just say Peanut and Jelly, it would be the same, the hypnotic effect of his voice, blended with the sounds, sometimes delicate, like trails of clouds, sometimes harsh like a lemon from my house, or pressing, urgent and sharp as Graziano Mesina's knife; in every moment every second, Patton keeps you in suspense, you become his toy, because he totally captures you; he is your puppeteer, he plays with you and his voice, with his sound tricks, he tortures you and takes you high, very high, he takes you to the top of Everest and then throws you down as if it were the Tarpeian Rock. And you let him do it, completely hypnotized by what you hear.
And so, I've written about my stuff again. And if the webmaster publishes this, it can only mean one thing: get the stones out.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Flashback (02:59)
Flashback
The dolls, the hide and seek
We dreamed of better things
In the tall weeds
I rolled with you
Flashback
Silhouette of the memory
You're eyes are getting heavy
And when I speak
You sleep on cue
3, 2, 1
Did they make you wear a dress did they
Held you down and tickled you did they
Did they laugh and make you watch did they
They wish they had a little girlie
Come closer take a look inside
Flashback
Blueprints have been erased
Matchbooks, butterflies, mornings
The grass was wet
I rolled with you
Flashback
Tentecles of my spirit grow
Sit back, relax and hope
The second time ain't like the first
I'm a schoolboy why don't you teach me
Bend over and we'll hush the squealing
Put on the mask and dance for Daddy
Wait for the world to say it's sorry
You show me yours, I'll show you mine
Flashback, flashback
Listen to the song my blood is singing
Listen to the song my blood is drivin', drivin', drivin', drivin' at you
02 101 North (05:13)
Hitch a ride, hitch a ride
Eagles swirl and they pick up the bones
I'll shut you down like a bank on a Sunday
The engine has no stories to tell
Because there's no-one to tell 'em to
The last drugstore has sold the very last pill
Out on the road and I am high enough, thumb's up
You're pullin' over, gonna pick me up, shut up!
The rusty wiper blades move along, in song
Having a lonely body in your car, shut up
My piece is in your ear
Movin' fast, thinkin' clear
I'll squeeze if you don't steer
And follow the line straighter!
You are the bullet, I am the gun, I won
Screw on the silencer and have some fun
Grey highway, deserting me
Hitchhiking, a pair of high-beams coming my way
Hitch a ride, hitch a ride
Treading water in an ocean of champagne
You blow a sparkplug when you see a drop of blood
And how many joyrides will it take
The sombre spasms habouring
Those pulsing neon hangovers, hang me
It's Friday night, I'm gonna fuck or fight, that's right
This time all I need is one more ride, shut up!
I'm car-jacking on a fine spring afternoon
Don't kid a kidder, don't shit a bullshitter
I'm hotter than the crack you're cookin' up, heat up
I'm colder than the smack you're jackin' up, shut up!
I'm a balloon and I am losin' air, beware
Squeek, ah, squeek
There's blood on me!
Grey highway, deserting me
Hitchhiking, a pair of high-beams coming my way
Hitch a ride, hitch a ride, hitch a ride, hitch a ride
Hitch a ride, hitch a ride, hitch a ride, hitch a ride...
07 Sir Yes Sir (02:09)
We all know our place
Like the trophy in the case
We are never known
The wallpaper in the room
We all know the joys
See the beauty of our toy
We are not your song
Elevator, shopping malls
We all want what's free
'Cause we have no memory
We are coming home
We know we are not alone
Sir! Yes sir!
[repeat]
We are not the ones
Who will take away your guns
We are not too late
Also transindental pain
We will win the fight
With explosive dynamite
You are never wrong
Like the people in your palm
We will not resist
Simplify it with a kiss
We want victory
Fresh puffed-up celebrity
We all want what's free
'Cause we have no memory
We are coming home
We know we are not alone
Sir! Yes sir!
[repeat]
The best of everything is good enough for me, 'nough for me
We are not the the ones
Who will take away your sons
We are not afraid
Of a splattering of brains
We won't let them go
With a touch of (?) makes a crime
We see from above
Send a mushroom cloud of love
We salute
We even speak the truth
Shoot a victim man
'Tis a sacrificial lamb
We all want what's free
'Cause we have no memory
We are coming home
We know we are not alone
08 Jockstrap (03:51)
Jockstrap. You rap.
G-string. I sing.
Jockstrap. You rap.
G-string. I sing.
Step right up, place your bet
Steeplechase, notice me
I need skin for dancin' in
You're riding on the tail of a son of a bitch
High in the saddle
Make my backbone itch
And my tongue will train ya
Like a lash from a whip
I'm here, take a bow
And my tongue will feed ya
Like a lash from a whip
And i'll give you cuts
I won't need you to spit
And if you can't touch my cradle
How do you win?
Because baby, no one's shamed particularly
I dont beat you
But you can stop spreading horse shit
'Cause I'm here to take your fall
I need skin for dancin' in
I know, stop me
Send in the show
I came sharp, clean, smoking
I need you to
Watch me, watch them, watch the future
'Cause I won't hold your pan for you
I pull (teeth?), pull with your might
I'm back, push that geezer for me
Can't you
Can't you level with him?
Catch me
Behind the scene
Hello, you're nice
Better delays
To laugh the days
Know what?
You're riding on the tail of a son of a bitch
High in the saddle
I've got the hard-on itch
And I'll buck you off my trailor hitch
And I'll break your fall
Jockstrap. You rap.
G-string. I sing.
You're riding on the tail of a son of a bitch
High in the saddle
Make my backbone itch
And I'll buck you off my trailor hitch
And I'm here to break your fall
10 Malocchio (02:42)
Chew it! Chew it! Chew it to spit it out
Spewing your beings
Chew on history with you
Bloodhound, nose to the ground
Hunting the big game, I'm through
And I want to be more than a stomach on four legs
It's true
So drain me, embalm me
I'm moving to a higher venue
Up the food chain
Up on two
Eat the sky
Stand up straight
On hind legs and cry
Chew it! Chew it! Chew it to spit it out!
And now that I'm standing
Nervous organs dangling from you
I'm blushing like red-roses
The earth is my whorehouse
My zoo
Chew it! Chew it! Chew it!
Spit it out!
Squeeze your mothers neck
'Til the kicking stops
The memories stop
Chew it, chew it, chew it to spit it out! [X4]
[repeat]
Chew it! Chew it! Chew it!
Spit it out!
12 Laredo (04:16)
Been shanghaied down in Laredo
The sunshine sticks to the dusty floor
I'm listenin' for the pay phone
A flask rolls in through a hole in the screen door
The cat's in the bag and the bag's in the river
[repeat]
Guess you found out that you can't hold your liquor
Keep your eyes shut, it'll go down quicker
The cat's in the bag and the bag's in the river, now
Stolen from a shoebox
Those sweet snapshots
Blackmail on rocks
Nickels on a squirt gun
The jailbirds sing at the crack of dawn
We got records, they're locked in my head
I gotta a feelin' this deal has gone bad
The cat's in the bag and the bag's in the river
[repeat]
Well, put it in the car, got revenge in my liver
Just pass the sign, outside the city limit
The cat's in the bag and the bag's in the river, now
Stolen from a shoebox
Those sweet snapshots
Blackmail on the rocks
Laredo
Laredo
The cat's in the bag and the bag's in the river
[repeat]
Well, put it in the car, got revenge in my liver
Just pass the sign, outside the city limit
The cat's in the bag and the bag's in the river, now
Stolen from a shoebox
Those sweet snapshots
Blackmail on rocks
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Other reviews
By puntiniCAZpuntini
"The goal was fully achieved with an album of the highest level."
"No self-copying, no excessive reimagining; you are listening to a unique group."
By TheSilentMan
Tomahawk is a remarkable record that recalls, in some moments, the regretted Faith No More.
A lot of melody and atmosphere often dominate this album.
