Potential For Light

by DiscoAbsurdo

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While most of the NYC Subway is finally running below 14th Street again, many people of all walks of life in New Jersey, Long Island, the Breezy Point area of Queens, and other areas, are still suffering the life altering, in some cases devastating effects of Hurricane Sandy. Beyond the United States, the physical damage and resultant inaccessibility of resources in Haiti, have exasperated an outbreak of cholera. The grassroots, anti-corporate, and truly humanistic charity movement Occupy Sandy (and its fiscal sponsor Alliance for Global Justice) have raised upwards of $500,000 to help provide relief for victims in New York, NJ, and Haiti, among other places. Proceeds for this EP will go to Occupy Sandy’s continuing efforts.
DiscoAbsurdo loves you!

Occupy Sandy (NY & NJ)

Occupy Sandy Haitian Relief

Alliance for Global Justice


released December 4, 2012

Cover Art By Christopher Morris.
Track 9 originally by The Cure.
Track 7 features the insatiable and un-imitatable lyrics and vocals of the incredible, edible, indefatigable Ceschi Ramos. Thanks to Klausy and Joe for the remarkable, rambunctious, rousing and rough-housing remixes. (And there's more mixxy fun to come, from our other lovely, mixed up chums.)



all rights reserved


DiscoAbsurdo AM, Brazil

Experimental electronic duo who met online in March 2009, have not inhaled since. Synths, beats, guitars by Morris via Norfolk, UK. Vox by Olson via NYC. After self-releasing several EP's, and rotating on UK-based Internet radio shows like BBC Norfolk Introducing, DA released an EP and full-length on netlabel Misspelled Records. Since 2012 proud members of the DIY Bandits collective family. ... more

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Track Name: Potential For Light Act I
I only want exit
I only want exit
I only want closure
I only want to close the door on you
I only want exit
I only want exit
I only want your trust
I only want to close the door on you
I only want exit
I only want exit
I only want free love
I only want to close the door on you
I only want exit
I only want exit
I only want existence
I only want to close the door on you
I only want exit
We’re all one hundred percent
We’re all one hundred percent
We’re all one hundred percent
On fire
We’re all one hundred percent
Flying in the sky
We’re all one hundred percent
Next to death
We’re all one hundred percent
Nestled within a winking tragedy
We’re all one hundred percent
Only you and me
We’re all one hundred percent
Starving our little egos with Epacac
We’re all one hundred percent
Brazenly unemployed
We’re all one hundred percent
Scared out of our little wits
We’re all one hundred percent
Running on the fumes of our history
We’re all one hundred percent
Pricking out our eyes
We’re all one hundred percent
So ready to die
We’re all one hundred percent
Next to a beautiful end
We’re all one hundred percent
Totally incomplete
We’re all one hundred percent
Clamoring for the door
While we’re all one hundred percent
Trapped in the burning backseat
We’re all one hundred percent
Asleep at the wheel
And we’re all one hundred percent
Eager to keel over
I only want exit
I only want exit
I only want closure
I only want to close the door on you
I only want exit
I only want exit
I only want your trust
I only want to close the door on you
I only want exit
I only want exit
I only want free love
I only want to close the door on you
I only want exit
I only want exit
I only want existence
I only want to close the door on you
I only want exit
Brittle silence shatters
And all my silence is smattered
Upon a dull hill of faded desire
I burn it all in the fire
As we rest on the broken stones
And spoken bones
And the slivery smoke of a thousand burning houses
Expires like a night light
And we awake in our own darkness
Dead dream like a fading furnace
Like an eerie insight in past tense
Like an anxious memory
Like a shattered,
Silent light
Track Name: Potential For Light Act II
And now it’s time to let it go
It’s time to let it breathe
This is the moment you leave alone
This is the home that you leave
Take a breath
Now lay upon your glowing dim, low-flowing tidal wave within
Your slow-motion undertow and your own implosive whim
That buzzing hum and that roaring hymn, black
And boiling to the brim, free from your own syntactical spin
Bursts your fiery light
And fades of a sudden into your own sullen and gray night sun
With the last of your lights on
Flicker blast of a charging chant
An electrical lamp
Bellows from deep within your throat
A hollow kind of hope
And throughout all the space that the universe knows
And through whose undertow you swim, unrelenting
And within the expanse of an empty verse
You let go of your own charming curse
Bestowed upon you from the moment of birth
And as potential gives light, when you’ve missed your mark
But the glow recedes from the grooves of your heart
The only thing right is that you’ll grow into the dark
Cuz cynicism grows into what you cannot forgive,
So forget it
And move beyond your own un-begotten sunset
Notice how slow in the length of the night
Is the gradual crash into light
The boiling ringing of the sky’s return
Never lives up to the let down of a numbing burn
Cuz it may be your last long night without a throbbing storm
Within which to find your half-eaten soul unworn
But I’ll take a chance on that
So chant that last breath of regret
Just don’t choke on that everlasting breath
Let’s not let it end like that
Because from that near-sighted past, I only want exit
And I only want strength in that special kind of emptiness
Track Name: Potential For Light Act III
Destination: destitution
Play a tune some
Rest in peace, son
Reservation for reclamation
Collective nations
To fade away, then
We’re all
One hundred percent on fire
Just burning our way
And I was blinded, so now I see
The only presence I give off is as an absentee
Your only problems arose exactly when you chose
To walk an artificial path of positivity
And I don’t wanna see ya wanna win some over
With your bitter onomatopoeia freedom closer
Cuz who can do that voodoo that you say only you can do so well
Motherfucker, you’re just a rather soulful but still empty shell
Because you only mimic an otherwise all-too-actual hell
And you don’t even do that much nearly as well as
You do the voodoo that you still hope will help you find a truer self
But it’s still just a chemical spell
Never feels as good as when it’s somebody else
Tugging away at all your stubborn little pieces of hell
And what else is there?
Another method to slowly impair your own ingrown judgments
Of everyone else
You’re letting go of all your whistles and bells now
So listen to know-how
There’s nothing to find out
As you’re
Slowly burning down your shackling firehouse
And you’re
Slowly blowing out the smoke right through your still empty mouth
And in your beautiful daze, you turn your fiery gaze
Upon the intending hands of every enforcing man
Of those so devout to cure you
And still yet to suffer the doubt from within you
And hey teachers leave us motherfucking children to learn
We don’t need your water let that motherfucker to yearn
We don’t need your badges, ring of fire, burn baby burn
And all your false fear and fake fright lives on in your empty urn
Lives on in your empty urn
We’re all one hundred percent on fire
The boiling ringing of the sky’s return
Lives on in your empty urn
As flames shred your share in what the mantra calls right
Only you can stamp out your own potential for light
And I can’t
Seem to kick the urge to prescribe
To the irremediable
And I can’t
Let go of my need to take back
What is always irredeemable
And I can’t
Draw any closure on my need to describe
What resists all forms of portrayal
I am guiltlessly unable
To evolve beyond my faded fable
To satisfy my theoretical failure
I will never please the vengeful ghosts of a burnt out savior
Because in my head
When all my ghosts are dead
And every women and men
When all our ghosts are dead
We shall stand upon them
Track Name: Everything And
(On the count of one
Four and Two and One)
I’m screaming cats and dogs
And it’s raining bloody murder in here
I’m a jack of all tirades
Just a bloody little sidewalk smear
You got me twisted up and tightened in a blurry little bomb of a knot
Take caution with your question cuz the answer will be sold and thought
Cuz everything and, is also everything not
And all your tragic fire fell asleep and forgot
That everything stands, and therefore everything walks
And all our fragile dreams will stagger lonely off the clock
And everything is always forgot
(That’s just what things are)
Cuz everything and is always everything not
(Just gaze on any one burning star)
And all our wormy thoughts are bottle-necked,
Cuz our slimy minds are caught in a clot
So toddle over to your barstool
It’s not a teeter-totter it is a level playing field
Just feels like a see-saw, cuz that’s all you ever see-saw around you
And that’s your own damn fault if drinking’s all you do
But that’s all you can do
To pitch a cure to you
Is force your mind to a stand still
With all your chemical spillovers
Into a pill popper
You’re a pill lover
So move over
There’s always room where everybody knows you
Everybody knows your name
When everybody self-medicates the same
Damn downtrodden self
In this living, breathing bloody hell
You’re a canary in your own mind
You’re working overtime but it’s not paying back on your own damn dime
Reverse your mortgage, buy back your own two cents
Was never a sensible choice to reinvest your own monthly rent
In the same stale answer that expires after six months
Just re-digest all the thoughts you already over-spent
In developing your restless and over-developed six guns
How to make violence into a pun?
My explosive mind and heart are horrifically homespun
And I’m having a blast, turn my anger into something fun
Funnel my frustration into a single pin-prick
Delayed reaction to it, I love it
On the count of one
Everyone take account of the months
We’ve spent dying in the sun
While they dine with the finest ones
For something that is and is not
Fraught with the violence we have woven
We have spun all our emptiness
Into a goldmine for them
And everything we call “mine” remains in its otherness
To our brotherliness
And all our little sisterliness
All sold and bought
To the highest bidder
And yes, your highness, I am quite bitter about it
Of all that I have never fought, and all that you always have ill-got
You better believe I’ve got
Something blistering to say
About you and your petty, little ways
Cuz it’s about damn time,
In a big way,
This festering little dog’s had his goddamn dog day
So bite the hand that rocks the cradle to sleep
Rewrite their wrongs, rearrange and re-avenge all our disabled,
Squeaky wheels that fall on deaf ears
Blind all of our mind’s eyes, big man gives the oil to our fears
Patently unfounded, but the patent’s been extended
Another four years
Or so we audaciously hope,
With all of our dashed hopes
For all our well kept tears
And our unkempt beards
Betray our need for the man who betrayed our needs
So have another beer
Three cheers to our everlasting salud
I salute you, and your suicidal intellect that never moves
A muscle
Isn’t it funny
How we all get all jumpy
When we think we got a treat
Jump up jump up and get down
Get up offa that thing
And onto that mangled spine
That bruised retreat to your good time gal
And your good time guy
There is no reason why
The man
Who sings that beautiful “everything and” thing, and his big-band swing
Is only ever an empty grandstanding
Only ever and greatly exaggeratedly cleverly better, he
Only wants the better man
To get the better of a national plan
Of an historically rational
So-called civilization of so-called man
Of humanity’s bitterly buttery hands,
From whose grasp it always slips and lands
Into that old better man’s hands
And don’t you worry, with your worrier’s cry
I know you tried
But there’s always better luck on the other side
The grass is greener next time, man
It’s all in your outlook, man
Cuz it ain’t about the course of events
It’s about how well you planned
And how you see the emperor’s unclothed hand
For what it is,
And for what it’s worth
Yes, I’ve heard you say it’s all a scam,
But everything not, is also everything and
It’s an all-inclusive exclusivity, man
None of us gets the better hand
Physically feeble and outrun,
I’m outnumbered by more than one hundred and one
Falling to my own deafened ears
Voiced in unison with my own naked fears
No such thing as a reclamation
When we’d never have been stolen from
If not for the definition of a nation
Where’s my gun? I think I’ll have a nap
I’m having a blast.
Track Name: ULW ft. Ceschi
it's a nouveau leisure class
made of one million grown children
breaking their necks
attempting to learn the secret to
sucking their own dicks.
Your hip upper lip
And the chic depressive-manics
Who pretend to understand it
The way you fit in, but in a way you don’t quite fit
And all your emo constituents
All agree your rise to artistic dominance
Was no coincidence
They say that you’re of us, but not among us
And hip mystics intone this,
That you’re the 13th disciple of an exclusive populace
The lone leader of a newfound hipness
You give happiness a sickness
That makes it appealing to people still guilty of privilege
Well I find your appeal oppressive
And exploitative
The way you co-opted ironic pop shock tactics
Is fantastically useful to the massively brutal
Mass-manipulation machine
That entraps this
Ironic regime of hipness
Like a sequined glove on an iron fist
Nobody wants to break character
Just to be a witness
But it really is unfortunate
The power-play of awesomeness
The politics of popularity
It makes me sick, can you dig this, without a financial interest?
Cuz your hip upper lip
Is just a stiff upper hand, man
You got a rigid grip on the backs of the necks
Of a generation just growing into it
We just got acquainted with the notion
That we gotta settle down like a good little nation
Collection of countries puts away its exclamations
Sharpened gashing teeth
I get the smart end of a tough titty
But somebody’s gotta suck you off
And I guess it’s me
And I guess that means that you respect me
Enough to poison me with your witty embrace
And give me your poison face to face
Spoon-feed me a personalized diet of disappointment
You cater to my own already existent hate
And tell me it occurs naturally
It’s chemical occurrence
Is a truth of human fate
My hate was already meant to be
it's a nouveau leisure class
made of one million grown children
breaking their necks
attempting to learn the secret to
sucking their own dicks.
Call the Williamsburg police
All the vegans who accidentally ate fish sauce in their Thai food
are force purging at the same time
from every 3 digit area code
and the coded passwords that hold every intimate secret in their phones
have been cracked
I know each word is a teenager's cry-for-help-cut from '94
but my 30 something hands aren't letting me hang myself yet
they're no stronger than I am.
they're no stronger than I am.
even though they walk at 4 am with peacock confidence
deep down they realize that their ironic everything
is simply avoiding any authenticity.
these streets are endless pageants
because honesty is no longer cool.
the ephemeral beauty of cocaine parties
where men wake up to rings of lipstick circling their cocks the next morning
is their romance.
caring is pathetic unless its something they're supposed to care about.
now the brooklyn streets smell of spilled semen or lice ridden community pools
and the workers will sweep them...
and the luxury lives that parents provided
will keep workers sweeping.
every day is so damn new
when memories disappear
and nostalgia is only recalling yesterday before pills made it unclear.
hazy,selfish and clueless
till the drugs wear off
and they realize that theyre hopeless
like the rest.
they're no better because of how they're dressed.
revolution was just joking,
so they finally settle for work as hedge fund managers in hoboken.
it's a nouveau leisure class
made of one million grown children
breaking their necks
attempting to learn the secret to
sucking their own dicks.
And while I was unwittingly
Nursing on the tough titty of a fat cat, disguised as a hepcat
Sucking down the sour similes of an Anarcrat
Wearing one of his many party hats
The Great Greek Goddess Nonsensicles
Appeared to me while I was on my knees
And whispered to me, “I hear your pleas
To hear just how
To hear, here and now, how
From the horse’s mouth
A generation who’s abandoned
All your stubborn patience
Can move beyond it so quickly”
Yes, please, I wanna hear it
Through the same teeth that bit me
And she said, quietly,
So close to me
And with the earnestness and honesty
Only found in a majesty
Worthy of the moniker
She said so slowly to me,
Let go and let it be, you little pussy
What kind of wisdom would you expect from me?
I’m not your idol, anymore that I’m free
Even though you adore me
You’re not free yet, and I’m not your pet
And if you think for a blistered little minute
That you can bleed me heroic and wax off poetic
Then you can suck my dick
Cuz I’m not your little trick
You don’t pull me out of the hat you talk out of
But that still doesn’t mean I’m an Ideocrat that
You can safely pull out of
I’m just a stealthy cat who’s on my own way
And tends to share your own hate
Not so much for the out of touch middle men
But for the little men
Who are somehow minimally in touch in such a way
To literally falsely convey
A hipfound alternative to the squares of yesteryear
When it’s all so near to same old garbage we hear
Since yesterday
And it’s retro-year, the twenty-year rule
It’s a new day to say it
A new way to pay homage to it
You’ve got a garage full of it
Now it’s cool cuz it’s nostalgic, and not oppressive
But what’s the damn difference
When it’s the same rotten message?