Boredom in Full Bloom

by Apoc

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about

I've been working on this album for 5 years. In the meantime, I've moved from Los Angeles to Chicago to Telluride to Portland, back to Telluride and now I'm in the process of moving back to Chicago. I've also released a variety of other projects exploring a variety of other styles. I think that this restlessness is reflected in the songs on this album. Most of the songs are ruminations on my general dissatisfaction with the current direction of the Western world and the manufactured boredom it peddles to it's denizens. A few are sketches of some of the characters of this tragic comedy. Others attempt to suggest solutions to this quagmire, both personal and political. A week ago I decided to release it now, as is. K-Kruz and I have spent the last few days making last minute tweaks and adjustments to the tracks. In no way do I feel that it is finished, but I'm not sure that I would ever feel that way. I can say that working on these songs has given me a greater sense of purpose and a renewed faith in...myself? humanity? music? I don't expect them to do the same for you, but maybe they make you smile, think, move or feel and that alone would be a great reward for me.

Oh! A few of these tracks have been featured on MTV's Jersey Shore and 10 on Top, which I am grateful for.

credits

released 22 September 2011

Apoc - words & vocals, theremin on "Sleeping With the Enemy", design

Earmint - beats

K Kruz - mixing, mastering and additional production on "Information Overload" "Sleeping With the Enemy" and "Adhocratic"

additional vocals on "Yankee Go Home!" by The Doc Ryan's Girls Choir

recorded at wherever Apoc or K-Kruz could find space to set a studio up at

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about

Apoc Chicago, Illinois

Describing his music as post-hip hop, Apoc has been moving beyond narrow genre definitions and carving out a niche all his own the past few years. In recent months, he has seen his music featured on MTV's Jersey Shore & 10 On Top, Fuse On Demand, URB.com, XLR8R.com and more, accrued thousands of Youtube views, and brought his manic live show to POP Montreal and stages across the U.S. ... more

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Track Name: Nothing to Do, Nothing to Say
Nothing to Do, Nothing to Say

Turn your television on, sleep all day
You’ve got nothing to do, you’ve got nothing to say
You go to the mall, buy some stuff
You’ll be back tomorrow, can’t get enough
Have some kids, buy them stuff too
They got nothing to say, they got nothing to do
They go to the internet, check on myspace
Locks on the doors so you know that you’ll die safe
Surround sound on your plasma tv
DVDs in the Humvee, life is easy
There’s a war on, gotta support the troops
Put flags and magnets on your car as proof
Condo in the city and a place in Florida
Taxing the poor to secure the border
Ice caps is melting, climate’s scary
But ya gotta make sure that the gays don’t marry
Turn the news on, there’s another war
But your kids don’t worry, they’ll just send the poor
They play video games, and hate their teachers
They lie and they cheat but believe in Jesus
So you take up golf, gotta lose some weight
When the trees are all gone it’ll be too late
So you go to church and you always vote
So you can get a tax break on your brand new boat

Turn your tv on, sleep all day
Ya got nothing to do, ya got nothing to say
Just go to the mall, it’ll be okay
Ya got nothing to do, ya got nothing to say

After it all when the masters are small
And the churches are burnin’, the ashes’ll fall
Like an axe or an awl or a bat to ball
Bet these bastards’ll bawl with their backs to the wall
So the pastors appall, actors enthrall
But the laughter’ll call the mass back to the mall
Where the maps are installed to capture us all
Plastered to walls and the backs of the stalls
Rats in the halls and the glass is broken
Past is smoten, crass is boastin’
Action’s frozen, maxin’, mopin’
Traps is loaded, patterns potent
With the classes holdin’, whores stay dotin’
Poor stay hopin’, core stays copin’
And the stores stay open, stores stay open
Stores stay open, gotta stay open…
Track Name: My Generation
My Generation

We’re useless!
A whole generation been rendered ineffectual
We’re stupid!
A whole generation bent anti-intellectual

Talkin’ ‘bout my Xanax-takin’,
Vacant, baitin’ doom, complacent,
Agin’ awaitin’ an explanation
Employer hatin’, still wage slavin’
Failin’, fakin’, chasin’ validation
Creatin’ waste ‘n devastation
Video game playin’, mistake makin’
Lost, forsaken generation
Never gonna quit, no we’re never gonna stop
Look at what we copped, look at what we got
Everything’s cool, yeah, everything’s hot
I’m so counterculture, man, look at where I shop
Look at what I dropped, look at what I rock
Bought myself some meaning and a fresh new top
A feeling of importance ‘n some threads to jock
Such a fucking rebel when I hit the block

Every generation wants to be the last (be the last)
Every generation wants to eat the past (eat the past)
In a world where compassion is fashion, meaning’s just another object in the marketplace
‘N in a world where convenience is king, beauty’s just another shopping center parking space

We so fresh-fresh
We so fly-fly
So who the best dressed?
Don’t you lie-lie
So you can stress-stress
We say ‘why-why?’
‘N we so reckless
We just buy-buy

I saw the best minds of my generation
Reduced to priests of prosaic imitation
Angel-headed hipsters burning their donations
Not learning from mistakes ‘n yearning for the days end
An entire vanguard, vain ‘n self-obsessed
Drunk on false pride, nursed from fake breasts
The triumph of the ad age: authenticity’s death
Empty fascinations lacking insight ‘n depth

History’s just an aesthetic, that’s all it is
Gotta push it to the peasants in a hers ‘n his
Just put it all on credit, man, it’s strictly biz
There ain’t no time like the present to completely miss
Track Name: Information Overload
lyrics coming soon....
Track Name: Ninja (UAW/MF)
lyrics coming soon....
Track Name: Marry. Breed. Die.
Marry. Breed. Die.

Don’t stop! Marry. Breed. Die.
Hope! Shop! Marry. Breed. Die.

Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to eligible bachelor number one. He’s a rapper from Chicago Illinois with no known income. Here’s Apoc!

Corn chips on the couch, roaches in the ashtray
Empty beer bottles, caught me on a bad day
Turn the TV back on, pop another Reese’s
What’s more American than type II diabetes?
TV’s got a message: watch more TV
The internet’s impressive, you can shop more easy
You can cop porn freely, check your stock port’s ceiling
They’ll tell ya it’s the only way, we got born greedy
You can drop your CD, embrace the marketplace
Assimilate to disseminate perspectives of the artist race
Start your days at noon, swear you’ll never settle
Drunk before the sun sets, what a fuckin’ rebel!
Got a message in your transcripts, a medium to transmit
That benefits from rhetoric from anarchist pamphlets
Antics are abhorrent to a portion of the populace
But nothing less could you expect when you don’t do the obvious

Chorus:
After the war, bury me in the sky
With a three word t-shirt reads: Marry. Breed. Die.
Got every mother in the world starin’ me in the eye
But if I wasn’t single than I’d rarely be high
In the end, I guess I ain’t very free but I try
I’m a liar and a cheat, but a fairly sweet guy
And the whole damn planet’s darin’ me to ask why
With my hat turned back reads: Marry. Breed. Die.

Don’t stop! Marry. Breed. Die.
Hope! Shop! Marry. Breed. Die.

Yo, so I was sittin’ there the other day, readin’ my People magazine, y’know, eatin’ my McDonalds, drinkin’ a Pepsi-Cola, when suddenly it occurred to me what freedom really means in a consumer society, so I stood up, I turned off the Mtv, I put my Nikes on and I drove my Hummer to the mall…

There’s duty and there’s routine, history and heritage
Inherited a few genes and cultural imperatives
An arrogant and moot dream and vultures we can share it with
A narrative with skewed scenes resulting in embarrassment
We perish in the twilight of someone else’s vision
I’m tossin’ back a High Life ‘n livin’ with decisions
Copin’ with the wild nights ‘n infinite derisions
An admission of sedition towards tradition-driven wisdom
Listen to the loose cannon, oops! Got em bruised
‘N he moves like a new man, improved
Ain’t it too bad that you want a dude that’ll do what The View
Say to do, but it’s you that’ll rue who ya woo
When it’s through, and the chicks come to roost
‘N the shit hits the roof cuz you’re hitched ‘n you’re missin’ your youth
So you can play the spring bride, I’ll play the groom
From the womb to the tomb this is boredom in full bloom

Chorus

Well, there ya have it folks! Straight from the horse’s mouth! Mr. Aypeeyoh Caesar! Don’t forget ladies, he’s single!
Track Name: Sleeping With the Enemy
Sleeping with the Enemy

Lampin’ poolside at The Tropicana
Picture me like this; sex ‘n glamour
Picture me lifeless; death by camera
Sittin’ by her highness, gotta check my manners
I can barely bear this pretty little heiress
Peepin’ what I’m wearin’, I think that she’s embarrassed
Well, fuck you! Matter fact, just did
Now ya wanna show me how your fellow upper crust live
‘N that’s cool, I can see it’s straight opulence
It’s clear nobody here got any fear of any consequence
It’s clear nobody here knows what a real problem is
I ask you for a beer ‘n then shower you with compliments
A kept man, you bet man! I reckon
She could call my name ‘n I would be there in a second
‘N that’s sad, but it pays the phone bill
I can act a fool, she’ll take me home still
I think she thinks I think she’s slummin’ it
I drink, she drinks, we drink, she’s lovin’ it
I think she thinks I think too much ‘n it’s
A shame that this dame still thinks republican
Little lady likes to call herself an actress
Prances ‘round the party ‘n bats her lashes
Dancin’ like a harlot in the latest fashions
But she ain’t ever act when her back’s on the mattress
Matter fact, she ain’t act, she just like to pretend
So she got something to say when she out with her friends
Most of which don’t give a shit, cuz they just after her ends
Too much time on her hands, too much money to spend
Got a different pill for every doctor she sees
I guess that being wealthy is a social disease
What she blows up her nose’d make a poor man sneeze
Daddy didn’t discipline, she do what she please
Mommy made a mistake, now miss makes many
Miss don’t make money, but she shells out plenty
Spoiled little plutocrat who can act reckless
But boy bit his lip cuz the chick bought him breakfast
‘N if this is as good as it gets than I’m gone
Send a check to the next cheap jet that I’m on
Got a debt that she’ll never collect before dawn
No regrets, let’s just let conclusions get drawn

A sad sort, I’m passed bored, I asked for it
If this is class war than I’m sleeping with the enemy
I’m back for it, a cash whore, don’t act sore
If this is class war than I’m sleeping with the enemy
Track Name: Adhocratic
Adhocratic

(Adhocratic, your whole steez is static)

Adhocratic, the old system’s worthless
Everything that I spit has got a purpose
Straight up merk shit, thanks for the purchase
Now I’mma son all the gods that you worship
Like…
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

Beware of the relentless, it’s senseless
Your whole steez: defenseless, you don’t even get this
And I ain’t here to learn ya, earn ya merits elsewhere
Don’t strain your brain in vain, the game’s about as fair as healthcare
Prosumer tools leveled ancient playing field
But commerce kept it’s court as king, now minors makin’ major deals
Now ya know how a pager feels
You’re outdated, outmoded, demoted, I wrote it to show the claim is real
Prototypical pivotal cognetariat
With enough facts to grasp my caste ‘n be aware of it
‘N that ain’t arrogance, it’s proof of evolution
Guess the truth got convoluted, questioned, spoofed and executed

Adhocratic, the old model’s worthless
Everything that I spit has got a purpose
Straight up merk shit, thanks for the purchase
Now I’mma son all the gods that you worship
Like…
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

Practitioners of post-hip-hop
No shit, pops! We don’t get got, flows spit hot
‘N shows rip shop, Lab-to-the-O-di-dot
The whole Go’s gridlocked, you don’t know squidat!
You still stuck in the second wave, you retrograde
Got your sights set on yesterday, forever late
Soul searchin’ for dead gods to venerate
Runnin’ circles while I put em ‘round the letter A
‘N this is Aura dunny, not just a portion of me
This isn’t for the money, it keeps my organs pumping
So you can take your half, man, you sure is funny
You make me laugh, but you’ll never make a fortune from me
You lost your case in abstractions, distractions
Fractured the fanbase into feudal camps ‘n factions
Fashion vs. pirate; a tyrant tryin’ to domineer
‘N fear’s got many facets, but it’s clear that change is nonlinear
The problem is you can’t adapt, you’ll never get the planet back
Order bows to Eris, embarrassed that she had to ask
“N bureaucrats begin to beg to break em out they’re birdcage
But they can sing their swan song long into the third wave

Adhocratic, the old style is worthless
Everything that I spit has got a purpose
Straight up merk shit, thanks for the purchase
Now I’mma son all the gods that you worship
Like…

(Adhocratic, your whole steez is static)

Practitioners of post-hip-hop
No shit, pops! We don’t get got, flows spit hot
‘N shows rip shop, Lab-to-the-O-di-dot
Lab-to-the-O-di-dot!
Track Name: Drop That feat. Racecar
Drop That

Bored at work, bored at home
‘Bout to go berserk when I heard the phone
Who could it be? Caller unknown
Still pick it up cuz I’m all alone
‘Yo who’s this?’ ‘Charlie Hughes’
‘Racecar, man, what’s good witchu?’
‘A whole bunch of nothin’, ain’t shit to do
Got a little somethin’ somethin’ so I’ll slide on through’
Half an hour later and he’s at my door
Anxious to see what the kid done scored
Got a little weed, but I need some more
Hell, anything’ll do cuz I’m so damn bored
Now me ‘n Race stay blown like a song with Psalm
But my face turned stone when he dropped the bomb
Opened my hand and it’s o-o-on
Put a little piece of paper in my open palm

Chorus:
Drop that, pop the tab
Got a lot of blotter ‘n a spot to crash
Put it on your tongue ‘n knock it back
Worlds gone crazy, but ya got to laugh

Caps, rolls, I like those
But a dipped cheerio’ll blow your dome
Lucy’s in the sky with a dozen stones
But these ruby slippers won’t get you home
Now I’m ridin’ my bike like I’m Albert Hoffman
Been here before, but not too often
The sky turned yellow like a Sony Walkman
‘N Racecar’s face started meltin’ off him
Stop ‘n sit down, better take it easy
Before I go further like my man Ken Kesey
Robots is lurkin’, man, they think they sneaky
But I ain’t worried cuz I got Yoshimi
Dreamy, placid, chasin’ rabbits
Teeny tablets laced with magic
See me plastered, ain’t he batshit?
Evening, bastards, take some acid

Chorus

Racecar:
Micro-psycho-tabalicious
Nitro-hypo-mad-delicious
Average isn’t savage visions
Cabbage damage, habit hittin’
Ammunition, passionate patches of pastel
Pass me a pair to tackle
Mellow, mean and moody
Got these fellows lean and groovy
Oohy-oohy and a movie
Reachin’ peak again in UV
You see, I see, you see LB
Tune in, turn in, TOUCHDOWN! Tell me
Meltin’ bubblin’ teeth like Chicklets
Three more peaks, this shit’s ridiculous!
Got my vision spinnin’ ‘n it just won’t stop
My brain about to shimmy shimmy coco pop!

Chorus
Track Name: Yankee Go Home!
Yankee Go Home!

Blood on the screen, blood on the pavement
Guerilla warfare is the new entertainment
Got a debt? Better yet! Better get the payments
True colors of the world are whatever we paint it
Whatever we make it, wherever we’re stationed
If ya got a desk job, then better not say shit
If ya got a death squad, then guess who trained it
Land of the free market secret agent
Home of the brave new world invasion
After disaster strikes your nation
Here come the heroes with donations
But with the aid paid we made some changes
Chicago School rules imposed with purpose
Currency crashed, now your cash is worthless
Economic shock doctrine caused crisis
Can’t call it your country cuz we privatized it

Yankee go home!

Plastic soldiers, two dollars a dozen
Molded from petroleum and baked in an oven
Packaged in a pretty bag and sold for a profit
With a little warning label says ‘toys could be toxic’

Here comes the motorcade of murder-merry mercenaries
Mowin’ down the peasantry ‘n leavin’ every merchant wary
Burnin’ Bush in effigy won’t stop us stealin’ energy
Your efforts leave us laughin’, while they leave your loved ones hurt ‘n buried
You can try to perch ‘n parry - why bother?
Rendition means sedition’s simply bein’ sons or fathers
Wars are for the poor to source demands for cannon fodder
Reconstruction’s function is to poach and plunder proper
Line our leaders’ pockets while their stocks skyrocket
If turmoil is the product, then who are we to stop it?
You’re hurtin’ because Halliburton’s reportin’ record profits
But you’re learnin’ what it means to earn the knowledge of what shock is
You call that slaughter? We call it Blackwater
‘N it acts to combat those who attack what we offer
You call that torture? We call it KUBARK methods
We’re only here to make money, don’t confuse our efforts

Yankee go home!

The economists call it reform, the pundits call it progress
But no one calls it empire, cuz that’d be being honest
The World Bank’s here to help, the IMF’ll save the day
But better read the fine print, and learn the cost of aid

Yankee go home!

Plastic soldiers, two dollars a dozen
Molded from petroleum and baked in an oven
Packaged in a pretty bag and sold for a profit
With a little warning label says ‘toys could be toxic’
Track Name: Starving for Conversation
Starving for Conversation

Boredom, the fruit of glum indifference
You can hear it hearken through the chatter of these pigeons
You can see it startin’ as they clamor through the kitchen
You can play your part or you can see what you’ve been missin’
This party is played out!
But I’m tryin’ one last time as I make my way out
Guess I shouldn’t have stayed out
But I’ll give ya one more chance, whatcha’ got to say now?
I wanna talk about new ideas
They wanna talk about the new Ikea
How ‘bout politics, religion, science?
I can see plain the disdain in their silence
I know better, so I bolt for the bar
My brain goes numb from the smoke in the car
They’re vain ‘n they’re dumb, but they’re broken ‘n scarred
City’s like a cell block; cold ‘n it’s hard
The boring pageant of immortal sin’s
Got the bartender beaten as he pours my gin
It’s hard to play the hero with the heart of a whore
But I ain’t sayin’ sorry for my smarts no more
Saints and satyrs in search of the infinite
Paint gets splattered, the earth starts to spin a bit
To make these matters for worse, they try to limit ‘em
You can break ‘n batter these birds, we’ll live to sing again

Chorus:
I would walk a mile for the keys to the moon
I still wanna smile while we speed to our doom
Been a season or two since I needed a move
If dreams are for fools, this is boredom in bloom
Well, it’s been a while since we peaked from the womb
Put ourselves on trial in the zenith of youth
Whether bleedin’ in blue, or still stealin’ for food
The meanin’ eludes, this is boredom in bloom
Lookin’ to the aisle while we kneel in the pew
Join the rank ‘n file, got some breedin’ to do
When they feed you a tune, you concede that it’s true
You just heed to their cue, this is boredom in bloom
Just another style, but we deem it as ‘cool’
You can teach a child why we need to consume
These are pieces of you that are seen through the view
Of a screen that is skewed, this is boredom in bloom

We can not consume what we can not buy
We don’t have to bloom, but we have to die
Testaments and tombstones always lie
A floral festoon, E-N-N-U-I
These wings wanna sing if we let them fly
These kings know a thing about the empty sky
But these finks wouldn’t shrink from a dead man’s cry
Nor blink at a drink, you can bet your eye
These kids wanna tell me how they write a blog
Not start a revolutionary dialogue
We die like dogs tryin’ to fight the fog
Been city so long, startin’ to like the smog
The psychogeography of cerebral slums's
Got us mauled by mixed media ‘n feelin’ numb
Appalled by this feelin’ that the dream is done
All forced to face what our freedom has won

Chorus
Track Name: Jewel of Denial
lyrics coming soon....