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Audio Addiction

by Thomas Truax

  • Digital Album
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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    "Thomas Truax is a feisty dreamer gadgeteer, songwriter and performer...capable of crafting some very potent songs, such as the wistful 'In Barcelonely'...and 'The Butterfly and the Entomologist' on which Truax is joined by cellest Pete Harvey and violinist Meredith Yayanos (both of whom appear on other songs too, along with a few other players) is the perfect blend of his moodily manipulated instrumentation and oblique narratives. It's poetically evocative and rich with melancholy, both by dint of its sounds and the texts..."
    -David Greenberger, Signal To Noise

    Includes unlimited streaming of Audio Addiction via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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I must admit I've got this audio addiction It's a serious affliction it's a life support system I'd do most anything for the spiritual nutrition That I find when I am lost inside my compact disk collection I walk into work with my Walkman hair A little disheveled and recessed from ear to ear Might look a little funny but I do not care With my soundtrack in my head I've got nothing to fear I've gotta say I woke up blue but now I'm feeling born anew Suspended in the phrases of a didgeridoo Finding that song was like falling in love I floated off the ground and I kissed the sky above I am a slave To the audio wave You scammers and you pushers and you street preachers You snake oil salesmen and similar creatures Keep in mind you might as well consider me dead I'm in a world apart with these phones on my head My audio addiction sends me on a mission My Walkman and I we're going CD fishing We're hanging out a lot around these record stores Hey hey there Mister Virgin have you got a little more of that
I used to have these friends That one day up and went Inside the internet... And when I miss these friends I just do a search for them Inside the internet... And now I see them through my looking glass Floating like ghosts in their Ethernet Their voices are memories Their emails like letters from across the seas I think about the times we actually shared But now my Friendsters, they've got me scared 'Cause I might not even know if they'd died Their web sites would still be hanging up inside Inside the internet...
My wife had a dream That I had a clone And while I was away The clone would keep her company Upon my scheduled returns The clone was programmed to go away It went on like this for years And we all lived happily... But then one day came sad news I'd had a fatal car crash... Upon my scheduled return The clone was programmed to go away Upon my scheduled return The clone was programmed to go away But she didn't want it to She didn't want it to...
Out on the road I met a butterfly She had a fantastic wingspan, almost two feet wide She'd recently been injured and she could not fly So she asked me if she could bum a ride In the old shell of her chrysalis she carried her things She tossed it in the back and stretched her beautiful wings She sat there next to me with her front legs on the dashboard Those wings folded behind her and her little head cocked forward She told me her story, a price was on her head This bastard entomologist pursued her live or dead He'd vowed to hunt her down as there was a large reward He'd captured her and drugged her and nailed her to a board Her escape was narrow, she'd torn through her own wing She saw my look of horror and she started to sing "I'm going to a no man's land Because men and violence are intertwined" Well, I see, I said. But not all men are violent I'm not a violent man myself She laughed and said try not to get too attached to me 'Cause soon I will be well and I will fly away from thee One night when we had stopped into a diner for a meal She laughed and laughed about the plastic flowers on the tables I started seeing through her eyes the passing desert scenery She watched the birds and tumbleweeds With fondness and with envy We came across some sad road kill, a beautiful coyote She sighed her butterfly sigh and once again sang softly: "I'm going to a no man's land Because men and violence are intertwined" Next morning as I came out of a Texaco station, I saw she wasn't at the car, and I figured she had run Then I heard her high squeal and I heard his low laughter "You'll never out run me" he said, "you are the girl I'm after." I chased down the sound to the side of the station, She was cornered between the wall and a soda machine I moved as if by instinct, I did it without thought I clipped him and I kicked him And I grabbed him 'round the throat I pinned him to the wall and his eyes were bulging wide I said if there's a next time I will see YOU crucified With this I released him and he crumpled to the ground The butterfly was gone again when I turned around But then her little song drew our attention to the sky Though with a certain lack of grace she had begun to fly That was the last I saw of her, she never said goodbye She just flapped off and disappeared While singing with a sigh "I'm going to a no man's land Because men and violence are intertwined"
In Barcelonely Reality is hitting me I'll never sleep again without you But that's okay I'll go to a movie And dream the roles we'd have played And then I'll go to the ocean And sit upon a giant stone And watch the waves come crashing in
I'm gonna tell ya 'bout Tanya Montana Open your purse strings and she'll take your banana Her heels almost as tall as her beehive hairdo She holds up the sky when she walks like she do With her yellow glitter sparkling and her purple lipstick shining With her yellow glitter sparkling and her purple lipstick shining With her purple lipstick shining and her yellow glitter sparkling They call her... the fish I'm coming home... (He's coming home...)
Lessons In Dressin' It all dawned upon me clearly Hitting me quite suddenly That everyone but me has now gone crazy Then I thought my God, no wonder I've been having difficulty Choosing something suitable to wear To each day carefully consider With one's form and with one's figure How well this one will work with the other How will this combo be perceived Did you see that, can you believe? And don't forget: will it work with the weather And then you must figure out What tonight will be about Sex or business, maybe both together And when you're finally comfortable Be it casual or formal or rock n' roll Then something must be done about the hair
When you get down to fantasize What kind of imagery hits your mind's eyes? Is she blonde or brunette, is he black, bronze or white Does he bathe in the sun, does she rise with the night? Does he fuck like a lion or is he gentle and light Perhaps it takes both to make you feel just right? Gentleman, animal, powerful or mild Do you lie there in his arms or do you both go wild? Has she long hair or short, curly or straight ? Is she bound for Badda Bing or is she stately and sweet? Does she straddle your saddle and ride you like cattle? While you boil her kettle by shaking her rattle? Does she strip as she stands, does she slap your hands? Does she come like she came from some exotic land? Is he bald, is he bound, is he boldly big boned? When you make him feel good don't he look like he's stoned? Is he rough 'round the edges or clean as a whistle? Does he blow like the bomb or does he cruise like the missile? Has she got big bouncing boobs like balloons? Built to burst from her blouse as you blow your bassoon? Or perhaps you prefer the petite little breasts? Shapely and warm and firm when caressed? He brings you flowers and you talk for hours There's foreplay to foreplay, there's hot and cold showers Then in walks her mother, your fantasy's blown... Or maybe it's only just begun?
Pancakes 01:18
Every morning before school I tried to make myself look nice for you You pushed everybody's buttons With your exposed belly button I never approached you or said a word I wouldn't have dared I was much too scared But when your boyfriend crashed his car And you were thrown into my lawn... It seemed a million miles from right But that didn't stop us from swappin' spit that night That night... No that didn't stop us from swappin' spit that night Then came the day you caught the bouquet With me standing right beside you That look we exchanged was the most deranged Just like the one we now exchange each morning on awakening... It seemed a million miles from right But that didn't stop us from swappin' spit that night That night... No that didn't stop us from swappin' spit that night With the boy all grown up and locked up in Rikers And our delicate daughter off with those bikers I look at you now and I wonder how You stay with me in this broken down shack even now It seems a mile or two from right But that wont stop us from swappin' spit tonight Tonight... No that won't stop us from swappin' spit tonight...
In My Dreams 04:01
When I was just a boy I had my own roller coaster Built on to the roof of my parent's suburban house When I got bored I would climb aboard it Go 'round and around, and up and down Sometimes that train would leap right off the tracks And take me to the outer limits... In my dreams... I had my own house too It was a lot like the Addams family's house Every drawer was stuffed with money And everything that happened there was funny In my dreams... You were trapped in a Victorian corset And only I could free you from it This happened pretty much every night In my dreams...


released April 4, 2005


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Thomas Truax Birmingham, UK

"Thomas Truax crafts rich, poetically evocative songs about insects, trees, technology, and a lifelong obsession with all things lunar. He travels the world performing with his "band" of bizarre self-made instruments including a motorized drum machine made with bike wheels and a souped-up Gramophone called 'The Hornicator', as well as his venerable guitar 'Hank'.
"Inventive and Romantic" -TimeOut
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