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Home Recordings Vol. 1

by Adeem the Artist

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1.
Listening 02:53
The sun just set on our back yard Sound pours out of the neighbors car A honda fit in the adjacent lot the guy is brooding- they must have fought again and you are soaking dishes they clang around like untuned instruments my heart is an untuned instrument it’s why you’re the only one listening and we don’t have room for another baby you won’t be moved, and it’s your say but I can’t say the things I feel without you getting angry my brother calls, he’s in a tight spot I nod and answer like a robot there is no space for this inside me he sounds exhausted, and I start crying but he can’t tell, I hide it well I practiced years to learn this spell to cast when I’m feeling hollow and finally say, “I’ll come tomorrow” but we don’t have room for another baby and from the other room, I can hear you saying all the things you say under your breath when you start hurting
2.
I am not above saying something problematic With my daddy’s accent when my thoughts are automatic For decades I was socialized to occupy a different world And it’s hard the unlearning, and earnestly earning the trust of the ones your ancestors spent burning But if I got caught with my mouth full of something so hurtful, I would feel pregnant with shame And it’s hard but it’s simple becoming a symbol of ignorance and violent hate But if someone said something disgusting in my name, you better believe I’d have something to say For example… All you fucking racists better never buy my CD’s Until you’re ready to show up for Black Country Artists And give them the love that you wasted on me When you thought I was racist, you were wasteful with praises Like sick sycophantic supremacists do But as for me, I’m reading and learning, deconstructing with fury And there’s certainly nothing supreme about you But if you hire a PR consultant, While building your wealth on minorities pain And leave the whole case completely unexamined Well, I guess that’s American Music explained
3.
Strangers 02:40
I met you before we matured I was convinced of your sacred nature Your laughter was pure A sweet, authentic thing We both liked Futurama We shared so many things But now you’re not a friend to me It’s not like we’re enemies Just strangers And it’s stranger than it sounds It seems we just shared a little moment in time And I’m grateful that you were a friend of mine You used to drive through my town And we would drink cheap liquor together Sometimes I would be down But you knew just what to say You were good at making me feel important And I could always make you laugh But now you’re not a friend to me It’s not like we’re enemies Just strangers And it’s stranger than it sounds It seems we just shared a little moment in time And I’m grateful that you were a friend of mine It’s true that you hurt me And I know I hurt you too I thought our friendship meant a little more to you And, honestly, it’s fine I don’t always know it’s time But I’m grateful you were a friend of mine
4.
In the dim light of my cellphone Explicating eruditeness from hack lines Half-naked and half-baked Words can sound so different but appear to rhyme I don’t feel so inspired Only tired of the rage I guess I’m just a poser Thought I’d be a little bit closer To nirvana by my age But I don’t feel very centered Only angry and afraid Lacking all the listless impious iridescence Of my misspent early days I want to be behind a tower of PBR’s Having a good time in some off-broadway bar And maybe you pick a song for me Or maybe we don’t sing at all If I’m going to be hopeless, I want to be hopelessly singing along With my ear pressed to a memory Paper thin walls and secrets Visiting myself in dreams Where the themes seem foreboding and sadly cryptic I don’t know my history It’s a mystery I reinvent Out of passing moments And I know this is normal but I don’t trust myself with it I’m sluggish and apathetic Angry and afraid Trace lines of the last time my hands were energetic But nothing new was made
5.
I live in a city called Knoxville in a valley in East Tennessee we got Mountain Dew, barbecue, & protests in the streets we got a problem with gang violence kids don't feel safe in the streets if you wanna help, fire the thugs! Defund the KPD that's the Knoxville police department- you know what I mean? if you wanna help to end gang violence, defund the KPD
6.
Dirtbike 01:00
you got pretty hair & I don't care what the neighbors call you they don't know a damn thing about loving anyway and me? I'm not a cool kid. I'm not a Grade A or a drop-out-of-school kid but I got a dirt bike & a mineral tool kit if you wanna look for gems today we don't have to mess around with names you & me are more of just the same sad story so hop up on my dirt bike I know a little spot where we can ride off dirt ramps if you wanna already got an alibi for your mama and you can tell me anything you like out there in the woods on my dirt bike
7.
all the problematic white dudes are forming a super group they're getting coverage all over town one blogger opines that it's not the right time for their comeback with a link to buy their new single watch the way it climbs the charts & it corresponds to the outrage some publicist gets a big raise for turning this thing on it's face the impressions are absolutely insane on the flip side, in a garage four kids confront the odds they bang out songs like outlaws, clever & loud one blogger responds, "I kinda like this song but, honestly, there's no place on our site this would belong at all." but their fire burns from a trash can lyrics scrawled on napkins clawing through to make it happen this whole act is absolutely insane.
8.
Plot of Land 02:25
nobody wants to work no more for seven dollars sweeping floors when the place ain't busy, you gotta find stuff to do I'm gonna hitch my rickety old guitar to a shotgun blast 'cause I'm looking forward to a life of purpose & mystery with you $15 won't pay the rent and that's a high wage- plus $.20 a year if you're lucky to find a place so kind but the health insurance premiums rise and the politicians cast their lies like street craps, and they sweep up every time so baby I'm gonna find us a plot of land with a little home to put a family in and blackberrys growing near a garden bed out back we'll get a chicken coup and a wood stove too and I'll split logs in the yard with you inventing a living out of living into our crafts $20 barely pays the bills and neither of us have the kind of skills to make that money even if it seemed the way we never wanted to be rich- just a better world so we didn't prepare for having us a little girl & the time we wanna give her every day
9.
I’ve been taking the train From the dock to buy guitar strings singing songs six days a week I never really liked myself I’ve been sleeping in late I sold a song to a show on the TV I made a couple bands And I spend it on a string of dates with a penpal I will marry and the time zones interweave creating patterns that I trace when I am lying in my parents basement take it all apart it’s part and parcel I came here with a strange and honest feeling Chase all of your contradicting versions Childhood perversions and dreams that never steered Let them drive a little while So that I can disappear I’ve been living in my car lost in a flea market, looking for my family I met a girl in a little café And along the way, we fell in love I kissed her on the mouth In a hammock, then we headed south Now she’s screaming out a primitive yelp And giving birth And the time zones interweave Creating patterns That I trace and fall asleep at a truck stop in my Malibu take it all apart it’s part and parcel I came here with a strange and honest feeling Chase all of your contradicting versions Childhood perversions and dreams that never steered Let them drive a little while So that I can disappear into the great unknown I am nameless A coward called courageous by proxy of my trade I will fade on an idea Let it drive a little while so that I can disappear
10.
I covered up your gone but not forgotten tattoo With a flower that refuses to remind me of you Yeah, I know I said I never would get over it and I didn’t But I reckon that it’s time now for this ghost of yours to move On into the afterlife, Get on into the afterlife ‘Cause honey I’m still alive & sick of being haunted After life With your ghostly hand in mind Catch me up on what you’ve done this whole time But it’s time that I acted like I’m still alive Who I been was so informed by you being around Some still strings in me rattled in response to unheard sounds There were notes I never noticed, never played until we met And when you died, they settled and I haven’t heard them since But I’ve got to stop this pining for a song that I can’t sing These chords rely so heavily upon our harmony
11.
I was born the day I held this old guitar And I climbed between the strings out of a lonely heart Writing poems in my skin with sharpie markers in the dark I was born the day I held this old guitar I was born the day they dunked me in the pool Started carrying my bible between classes at the school I wrote a language out of symbols, immune to ridicule I was born the day they dunked me in the pool I was born over and over And reborn in a field of earth and clover I am more than these wasteful contradictions Aesthetic impositions Of the early days; entranced by the unknown Hypnotized by magic and terrified of dying all alone I was born the day I first stepped on the stage Collapsing with anxiety that’s stuck around with age I was shaking but I sang until the room was changing shape I was born the day I first stepped on the stage I was born the day that I first read Rilke’s notes Like letters from a father that I would never know He breathed life into my labor, put some honey in my throat I was born the day that I found Rilke’s notes In the corner of my heart, There is a cradle that I frequent Unafraid to feel the frailty Or the strain of trying to speak It is occupied by angels That coalesce inside me; Ghosts of varied passions and beliefs That are born & die & visit with each other while I sleep
12.
Performative 01:18
All of my cis friends laughing about my tedious pronouns and how it's hard to keep up with all my names like my existence is some unusual performance and their gender is entirely natural I know that new laugh, Jenny you don't have to laugh like that I know that smirk, Dakota you been practicing it often between classes all this shit is performative all this shit is performative all this shit is performative so let me be myself & I'll let you be yourself, honey
13.
Company Man 01:03
I never wanted much to be a company man (entrusted with the keys to the company van) punch a clock to take a piss in the can I never wanted much to be a company man I never cared for a personal brand It's just a little marketing sleight of hand Pick an aesthetic, theoretically planned- and call it original: a personal brand I never profited from free-enterprise was only preyed upon & charged to survive plant a pecan try, they'll give you a fine to move the wealth across a growing divide I never thought myself a communist, though a glass can only pour the things that it holds but lately I've been filling pitchers with holes wasteful with the things that I barely know I never wanted much to be a company man (entrusted with the keys to the company van) punch a clock before you piss in the can, I never wanted much to be a company man
14.
I miss playing shows where all the people listen, laugh when it's appropriate, slap their dirty hands, give me their money, take home a CD, listen to it once or twice, throw it in the trash I miss the highway, I miss combo's I miss the lies we tell ourselves to feel important I miss the smell of smoke in disenchanted bar rooms and the sinking sense the zeitgeist has grown beyond my reach I miss playing shows sandwiched between writers that give me fight or flight with the poetry they wrote send me down into violent introspection swap them stickers, then get back to the road I miss the highway, I miss combo's I miss the lies we tell ourselves to feel important I miss the smell of smoke in disenchanted bar rooms and the sinking sense the zeitgeist has grown beyond my reach (actually that's an experience that never really leaves)

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choice home recordings from the duration of the last 2 years, subscribe to Patreon to keep up to date with these weekly.

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released April 1, 2022

all this is just me noodling around with writing, recording, & producing.

Photo by Madison Miles

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Adeem the Artist Tennessee

Adeem is a seventh-generation Carolinian, a makeshift poet, singer-songwriter, storyteller, and blue-collar Artist.

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