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The Television Will Not Be Revolutionized

by Scott Ezell

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1.
The Television Will Not Be Revolutionized (after Gil Scott-Heron) [demo] 08:21
lyrics
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After Gil Scott-Heron the television does not stay home, brother the television travels in your pocket it flows like silicon along the pathways of your brain the television feeds on consciousness and eats memory the television will not be revolutionized the television captures you as you hold it up to capture the world as you aim its plastic lens as you frame your life with its rectangulated screen it bounces signals to itself with antennaes and satellite towers it bounces signals from itself to itself as it sings to android stars the television will not be revolutionized the television takes the best of what you are in one swallow and gives your money to klepto-technocratic pimps crouched behind a curtain the television will not be revolutionized the television can show you pictures of Nixon blowing a bugle and anything else you want to see it gives your mouth sex appeal and makes you look five pounds thinner…if you purchase the right upgrades the television will not be revolutionized the television is pasties on a sow it offers muck and shit with a shimmy and a flash the television makes everything easy except real life the television does not want to free your mind the television is watching you the television gives you news of every emergency in the world except the ones happening this moment in proximity to your body it projects images of catastrophe that cycle through so fast they never seem to belong to your personal planetary reality the television floods you with splinters of information till you bleed till you can’t remember tomorrow what it told you today the television will not be revolutionized the television will not be revolutionized, no the television tells you to stay home it tells you it’s scary out there it tells you the weather so you don’t even have to look out the window the television tells you whatever you want to hear it keeps you plugged in and buys your skag the television will not be revolutionized the television shows you pigs suffocating brothers on instant replay and Dick. fucking. Jane reruns we’ve seen a thousand times before and never seem to escape the television is the ultimate rerun, brother it never has to rewind, never has to pause to think the television will not show you good people fighting for a brighter day because the television will not be revolutionized the television goes better with a coke and a big mac with a new car with a pair of high-top kicks sporting the latest technology soul with a watch that is another television strapped to your wrist measuring the speed of your beating heart beaming your vital information to a database in the sky the television will not be revolutionized the television is pink cotton candy, a sugar of amnesia the television will not plant a tree the television will not feed a child the television will not get you out of a free-fire zone the television will not contribute to peace talks or nuclear disarmament the television will not save you from the rising seas the television will not help you love yourself or anyone else the television will not be revolutionized the television is affordable for everyone but costs your whole life /2 the television will not be revolutionized the television will not be revolutionized will not be revolutionized will not be revolutionized the television will be right back after this interruption in its regularly scheduled programming there’s nothing new on tv there’s nothing new on tv there’s nothing new on tv the television will not be revolutionized the television will not be revolutionized you’d better kill your television before it kills you the television will not be revolutionized (the television will not be revolutionized the revolution will not be televised the vision will not be alphabetized the insurrection will not be alabized the devolution will not be customized the revolution will not be televised the television will not be revolutionized)
2.
I Was Your Man [demo] 08:41
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you’re gone, you’re all the way gone you’re gone, you’re all the way gone I’m standing at the station as your train rolls on you come in the back door you don’t know no shame you call the dog to come but you don’t know his name you turn the key with a crooked grin and tiptoe barefoot across the cold greasy linoleum you wanted a lover, and I was your man when the rain comes hard, I take a shot of that homemade jack you blew me kisses but you’re not coming back the dog stars to howl and the moon goes down and the stars fall one by one by one by one by one to kingdom come you wanted a lover, and I was your man when the wind blew from town with a smell of burning grease our swimming hole was cool and sweet you stripped off your clothes and kicked off your shoes I dove to the bottom with nothing left to lose you wanted a lover, and I was your man I gave you a ring with a rhinestone glare it left a mark on your finger but you didn’t care you tried to pawn it, got 25 cents bought a gumball at the dimestore we still couldn’t pay the rent you needed a lover, and I was your man my socks are full of holes you promised to darn I traded my bowie knife for a spool of yarn now I’ve got nothing but tangles and a dull-edged blade my guitar’s forgotten on the wood pile by the fireplace and its dying flame you needed a lover, and I was your man now you sent me a letter with no return address just a faint flower smell of perfume from your polyester party dress I chew my cigar it tastes like you dark and smooth and bitter, a dream of transcendence that never comes true you wanted a lover you needed a lover, and I was your man I was your man on the 4th of July fireworks fell like weeping angels from the lavender sky now it’s a cold Christmas day streams turn to ice, cars drive through dirty snow, everything is gray but if you want a lover if you need a lover I’m still standing at the station I’ll be your man I was your man you were my woman and I was your man
3.
Helicopters (trilingual, Featuring Xun Betan, Carn Crua, and Rothaus Flemming) [rough mix] 12:02
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helicopters circle through the haze low to the flattened earth between the concrete towers they loop through like breath and like the end of breath like the crushing of breath with a truncheon with a knee or any other bone loops of violence loops of breath and death unscrolling from our hands into feedback pools echo echoing echo the helicopters drone in the distance whether you hear them or not they abide in memory and imagination in reality as concrete as the foundation we’ve poured across the breathing land suffocating it so we can have blank ground on which to build our obelisks gridded power structures singing anthems of eternity but the cracks were there in the concrete façade before the first echo was mixed with sand and water erected with I-beam skeletons a knee to the throat a truncheon to the throat violence looped upon itself until you can’t take a step without putting your foot on a man or woman or child’s neck as you fill your pockets with coins car keys credit cards bullet casings as the helicopters circle through the haze.
4.
A World Far Away (demo) 08:12
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I pulled a dollar from my mouth to buy a ticket to the south wild birds fly on trails high above down below I’m broke and shattered by my love for a world that’s far away My eyes are blue like swimming pools chlorine’s leaking from my shoes take the wheel and drive to the abyss accelerate towards the lips of what you miss it’s a world far away I saw you last night in a dream we took a bath in warm ice cream bubbles rose from your laughter to the sky burst apart into the way we said goodbye in a world far away I’m writing songs of sticks and stones flower petals broken bones I sing to you from an empty distant moon play my guitar like a drunken crazed baboon banished to a world far away I licked a popsicle of blood fell to my knees, made a death mask out of mud but it there’s no one left to hear is there even anything to fear or just the ghosts of a world far away I still taste your body on my tongue I fell down a ladder rung by rung I was a dog begging you to throw a stick but you were bored with my masochistic party tricks from a world far away I write my poems with bubble gum my skin became a talking drum but ancient rhythms get lost in city streets scars and solitude and half a pound of pulsing meat born in a world far away I chew my cigars and think of you and all the things we’ll never do apple blossoms falling from a tree still dream of the Cezanne paintings they’ll never be except in a world far away I drink paint thinner instead of wine it makes me deaf and dumb and blind atomic colors explode across the sky all my rivers dried up right before my eyes now a living world is far away I pulled a dollar from my teeth and caress the earth I lie beneath somewhere my heart breaks like a wave across the shore we had everything but all we did was ask for more till we lost our world, it’s far away
5.
All the Water Flows Through You and Me
6.
The Personal Touch (a poem by Michael Morical) [rough mix] 04:16
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Your device generates an email thanking me for the e-card my phone automatically sent you on your birthday so I wouldn’t forget again. A fluffy bear with a pink bowtie bows to emphasize your gratitude. Do you know you sent me this message? Are you using the Personal Touch app too? I memo myself to pm you and/to find out. The software costs a hundred bucks a year. I’d delete it like spam if freeware wished my friends a happy birthday on its own. Who cares if the living/animated stuffed animals are cuter on the software you pay for? It’s the thought that counts. Every New Year’s I check my list of birthdays for people I’ve lost touch with against the old year’s obituaries name by name. It takes time. But wouldn’t it be creepy to send birthday greetings to a dead cousin or classmate? I’ll contact Personal Touch, suggest a death checker for their next update.
7.
This Breathing Land
8.
Fuck the Rest (demo) 08:27
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in the morning I’ll be gone but in the evening I’ll come back around open your window and lock your door I’ll climb the fire escape to your bedroom on the 99th floor I want to taste you with my tongue and teeth your hair and skin and everything beneath let’s be like reptiles and shed our skins till we’re naked meat and quiver like gelatin we could play hopscotch in matching gold g-strings why don’t you give up the treasure hunt for your lost wedding ring I need some coffee and a shot of wine or I’ll drink your sweat and you can drink mine let’s take a bath together in gasoline scrub our souls like internal grease machines you know I wonder if you feel it too I wonder if you like to bite and chew I’m a burning match on the cold cold ground I’m a footstep running through the ashes of this town I’ll never be a saint I’m just a man of clay and I’ve forgotten everything in this world except I’m alive today put your hand in my pocket and your lips on my chest kiss me and fuck the rest
9.
Cant and Bevel You
10.
A Bed of Roses 04:39
lyrics
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you asked me for a bed of roses I swallowed all my thorns I held you close when you dreamed of the bleeding world you came from fly high there’s an old guitar that can’t recall my name when your fingers touch its strings fly high I sold my heart for a bag of scraps and bones but a hungry animal tore it from my hands fly high you packaged me inside a golden skin you took my breath and turned it to a blade then you let the rain lean into me it rusted all my days fly higher fly higher fly higher fly higher fly high fly high fly high fly high if you stop the flow of a waterfall there’s nothing left but a wall of stone
11.
Your Own Time (surf shack demo) 05:12
lyrics
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sweep those black clouds from your sky sweep those dark thoughts from your mind let imperatives go make angels in the snow give them red wine and a rose put a golden earring in your nose give a mannikin all your fancy clothes when dogs fuck don’t spray them with a hose keep your poetry discard your prose and fall in love with your own time what you going to do to free your mind how many lovers are you going to let pass you by you’d better bend down low to find a little soul spread iridescent feathers like a crow to rise up higher than before stop. when everyone says go forget everything you think you know embrace glaciers as they melt so slow listen to rivers say I told you so flop into the ocean’s phosphorescent glow serenade the moon as it waxes to and fro and fall in love with your own time what you going to do to save the world how you going to find a way to sing a single word trade a dollar for a dime fuck the clocks and mechanical time don’t ever speak except in rhymes roll in the mud beneath a bluebird-colored sky nominate yourself for the Nobel peace prize scatter rainbows with your eyes spill your secrets like a drunken spy order ketchup without french fries and fall in love with your own time fare thee well I hate to see you go fare thee well you know I still love you so we were spirits with polyester hair precipitated somehow out of naked light and air square dancing at the county fair drinking absinthe in van Gogh’s chair subverting the ethos of baggy underwear marking sex positions with smoke and flares riding horses into the atomic sunset glare bouncing cheques and acting debonair BASE jumping down a flight of stairs smoking spleefs and mumbling rastafari prayers we were just trying to find a way to love our world we were just trying to find a way to love ourselves
12.
Your Own Time (studio version) 04:54
lyrics
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sweep those black clouds from your sky sweep those dark thoughts from your mind let imperatives go make angels in the snow give them red wine and a rose put a golden earring in your nose give a mannikin all your fancy clothes when dogs fuck don’t spray them with a hose keep your poetry discard your prose and fall in love with your own time what you going to do to free your mind how many lovers are you going to let pass you by you’d better bend down low to find a little soul spread iridescent feathers like a crow to rise up higher than before stop. when everyone says go forget everything you think you know embrace glaciers as they melt so slow listen to rivers say I told you so flop into the ocean’s phosphorescent glow serenade the moon as it waxes to and fro and fall in love with your own time what you going to do to save the world how you going to find a way to sing a single word trade a dollar for a dime fuck the clocks and mechanical time don’t ever speak except in rhymes roll in the mud beneath a bluebird-colored sky nominate yourself for the Nobel peace prize scatter rainbows with your eyes spill your secrets like a drunken spy order ketchup without french fries and fall in love with your own time fare thee well I hate to see you go fare thee well you know I still love you so we were spirits with polyester hair precipitated somehow out of naked light and air square dancing at the county fair drinking absinthe in van Gogh’s chair subverting the ethos of baggy underwear marking sex positions with smoke and flares riding horses into the atomic sunset glare bouncing cheques and acting debonair BASE jumping down a flight of stairs smoking spleefs and mumbling rastafari prayers we were just trying to find a way to love our world we were just trying to find a way to love ourselves

about

Songs and spoken-word pieces from 2021, written at the kitchen table in Chiapas, Mexico.

credits

releases January 20, 2024

Written, performed, and produced by Scott Ezell, except:
"The Personal Touch," written by Mike Morical.
Tsotsil translation and performance on "Helicopters" by Xun Betan.
Spanish performance on "Helicopters" by Carn Crua.
Spanish translation by Chris and Mali.
Trap drums on "Helicopters" and "A Bed of Roses" by Rothaus Fleming.
Bass on "A Bed of Roses" by Casey O'Brien.
Cover art and design by Henrik Drescher.
Recorded in San Cristóbal, Mount Soledad, and Dragonfly Studios, Chiang Mai.

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Scott Ezell

Scott Ezell is a Pacific Rim writer and multi-genre artist with a background in Asia, border zones, and indigenous peoples. His music spans folk, ambient, and experimental styles.

www.scottezell.com

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