Dissatisfactions

by ONSIND

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Co-released by Plan-it-X Records and Discount Horse Records (July 2010). Cover Art by Ryan Woods.

BUY IT ON CD/LP NOW FROM:
Discount Horse Records (UK)
Plan-it-X Records (USA)

credits

released 19 July 2010
ONSIND is Nathan and Daniel.

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about

ONSIND Durham

ONSIND is a band from Pity Me, Durham (UK).

We have released music ourselves and through Plan-it-X, Discount Horse, Something Honest to Dance To and Specialist Subject among others.

Get in touch! nathanisacynic AT gmail DOT com
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Track Name: Heterosexuality is a construct
Homophobes are terrified to admit that during their lives, there have been moments where they've wavered in their minds,
One more comment, one more joke, I won't accept it, I won't tolerate intolerance this time,

I'm not a heterosexual man, I'm not ticking your boxes, that's not who I am, I don't fit into your neat little plan, and I never will.

Jesus Christ, I'm done with it, you narrow minded piece of shit, I'd sooner cut off my own dick than be like you. Did that make you uncomfortable, is your macho pride in trouble now, when you've beaten me up, then what will you do?

I'm not a heterosexual man, I'm not ticking your boxes, that's not who I am, I don't fit into your neat little plan, and I never will.

Love is not a crime, and I'd rather colour, outside of the lines, love knows no gender and its about time, you nailed your colours up next to mine.
Track Name: Suicide is painful
Cataclysmic visions, I get palpitations at night, I dream about some floating poet, then I get up and I write,
And while I'm sure some write to feel content, and keep away the madness, the reason I keep doing this is to document my sadness,

When I'm awake, I'm losing self-esteem, but when I drift away to sleep I have these self-important dreams. So please, chase me up the stairs just one last time, nip me on the ankle, and tell me that we're find. Tell me that we're fine.

I know it's pathetic in a world with so much pain, I'm feeling sorry for myself but I can't seem to shake this shame, so I act like I'm impervious to the shit that's thrown my way, and I know I shouldn't care, but I feel hideous today.

When I'm awake, I'm losing self-esteem, but when I drift away to sleep I have these self-important dreams. So please, chase me up the stairs just one last time, nip me on the ankle, and tell me that we're find. Tell me that we're fine.

Would you believe it, Sylvia Plath and me, in a rubber boat, out at sea. Hunched against the cold; we were tired and we were old. We shared abridged biographies and told dirty jokes as our extremities started to freeze, clouds overhead, I hung on every word she said, she said "is it the sea you hear in me? It's dissatisfactions, or the voice of nothing, that used to be your madness" it'll soon be dawn, so hurry up and row, or is it that you've got nowhere else to go, I can see you lonely behind the eyes, I can see you, and in a sense, I used to fucking be you, and one day you'll be me, and maybe then you'll see, some boats weren't built to float, so hurry up and row...
Track Name: You should probably keep it all in
For a second there I thought my eyes were bleeding,
It's evident I've spent too much time staring at this screen,
Is it LCD or plasma? I'm not certain,
But I know that I'm not living whilst I'm tied to this machine,
Emancipation never came from clinging to routine,

New day, new addiction, I negate this discontent through fiction,
How I crave your company,
New day, new addition, story time keeps clouding my conviction,
I pay the price with troubled sleep,
How I crave your company,

With some leftist tome weighing down your backpack,
The shortest walk can really take its toll,
Marching back and forth between my bedroom and the library,
I'm learning how to practice self control,
It's the latest essay followed by the latest episode.

New day, new addiction, I negate this discontent through fiction,
How I crave your company,
New day, new addition, story time keeps clouding my conviction,
I pay the price with troubled sleep,
How I crave your company,

I guess it's pretty telling that I shuffle in my sleep,
Admittedly it leaves me with a bed that's rarely neatly made,
I wake up every morning, my back pressed against the wall,
What my sleeping body is scared of, I'm not really sure at all,

As far as I'm concerned the most important revolution starts in this bedroom,
We could throw the script away and improvise,
But just pray to God it won't be televised,
They'd be bleeding from the eyes.
Track Name: If anyone needs me, I'll be in the angry dome
Today I made a toast, to Marlowe, Potter, Fletcher and me,
And I really scraped the barrel for words which held sincerity,
Real writers eat their young: exploit anybody, aim to win,
I'm not as hungry as I could be, but I'm famed for my thick skin,

Waste not, want not, no time like the present one we got.
Waste not, want not, no time like today.

Ted Fletchers leds were weak, he spent his autumn years indoors,
and poor old Phil and Dennis had it too bad to ignore,
Will I learn from their 'afflictions'? Have I learned from my mistakes?
I'm praying this is not another hollow 'seize the day'

Waste not, want not, no time like the present one we got.
Waste not, want not, no time like today.

This one's for my uncle Ted,
He had a big heart and a baldy head,
I'm tangled up in my own safety net,
So I'll take what comfort I can get.
Track Name: Lord, beer me strength
Daylight seeping through old curtains,
I grow older but the struggle carries on,
Everyday's an insurrection buffered by misplaced affection,
Sit me in the attic until dawn,

We felt bored and disconnected in that moment,
We were lost and vilified,
We weren't hoping for a triumph or a trophy, failure didn't halt our stride,
Even though we failed at least we fucking tried.

Skimming rocks in Hartlepool, I am bound by blood and blisters to this sand,
Every little struggle worth the time it took to lose,
Another cast off in the bay, another callous on my fragile hand.

We felt bored and disconnected in that moment,
We were lost and vilified,
We weren't hoping for a triumph or a trophy, failure didn't halt our stride,
Even though we failed at least we fucking tried.
Track Name: "Either he's dead or my watch has stopped"
We have nothing to loose but our chains, and i feel, an endless train of cash boxes and heavy purses wrought in steel.
Like Jacob Marley dragging his I'm a weary captive, bound.
Mine tie me to a student loan and every rare LP I've ever found. I'm just another naive prole, with revolution of the mind, but I'd fight a line of riot police if it'd help to clear the sky.

I'm not looking for an answer, to some big scary question.
A missing link to clarify it all. We take each second as it comes and every now and then some light shines down on us. Enjoy those moments in the sun.

We know Marley died a rich but lonely man and yet, its a very simple lesson we keep learning to forget, a Dickensian analogy spun out into a song, Melancholia and Marxism, this must be where I belong. I'm just another lonesome fool, with revolution on the brain, but I'd bomb the royal bank if it'd blow the clouds away.

I built a shield to block the sky, swathed in shade I shut my eyes, I wish that I had tried to take my own advice. Look up and let yourself be blinded (I wish that I had tried to take my own advice)
Track Name: That takes ovaries
DISCLAIMER:

We haven't really played this song for a quite a while. Here's why:

The song uses essentialist language and ideas (albeit in an openly tongue-in-cheek way) to critique sexism and heteronormativity in the punk and hardcore scene. BUT in using that language, the song can very easily be seen to silence and erase the experience of trans*/intersex people (particularly the line "only those possessing dicks are being taken seriously right now"). Obviously, we accept that this isn't accurate. There all kinds of people 'possessing dicks' who aren't being taken seriously in our scene. We sacrificed nuance to make a point bluntly, but some people felt very alienated and dismissed by it.

We're really very sorry to those people.

Needless to say, it wasn't our intention, the point of the song was to do the exact opposite, to take the piss out of essentialism, and the idea that our actions are helplessly tied to our anatomies. We hoped that the lyrics would be given the benefit of the doubt as this is a 90 second punk song BUT it's far too easy for us to say that from a position of privilege, and it isn't fair for us to say that, particularly as cis-men.

Once again, we're sorry.

We also know that some people really like this song, and we're sorry to them that we don't really play it any more. We're not trying to say that you have to be a massive cis-sexist bro to enjoy it. Music is open to interpretation. We just want to say sorry to anyone who felt silenced by it, and make it clear that we have engaged with the very valid criticism it has received.

Please continue to call us on our shit.
We all make mistakes, and we can all learn and grow together.

Thanks
Nathan and Daniel
x

lyrics

Come on boys, get a clue, would it really be so hard for you to try to do something slightly more productive with all that spare testosterone you throw around? Come on boys, fucking pay attention, look whose talking, and whose silenced by extension, only those possessing dicks are being taken seriously right now. We're talking in platitudes and slogans; the politics of meaningless soundbites. Look around this is a fucking boys club, it needs to be put right. Come on boys, ignore the irony of an all-male band lamenting patriarchy. It's our burden and our privilege that when we step on the stage, that we won't be judged for our appearance but for what we have to say. Come on boys, get a clue, would it really be so hard for you to try to do something slightly more productive with all that spare testosterone you throw around?
Track Name: Old hazel eyes is back
Walking past that prison I get shivers down my spine, I need a cup of tea and somewhere warm to sit.
But the crossword does my head in, I get stuck on every word, I'm adding characters to make the answers fit.
'Preparation for the outside world'- 14 letters, the days keep going by, but I'm not feeling better, I just keep it locked inside.

I saw myself through your eyes for 180 weeks,
Now I'm trying to learn how to see again, looking through to what's underneath, but the pictures incomplete.

Remembering the day that Peters' bakery caught fire. The whole city smelt a bit like bread and burning tires, sitting on the hillside by the car, watching smoke clouds fill a sunny sky, chaos from afar, you said you never ever wanted me to change, and to my detriment, I'm still the fucking same, each deficiency remains.

I saw myself through your eyes for 180 weeks,
Now I'm trying to learn how to see again, looking through to what's underneath, but the pictures incomplete.

So when you look into these eyes, I hope you realise, HMP Durham casts a shadow which belies its real size, as the coward always says, it's much easier to lock the stuff that tears us up away, than to see it every day.

I saw myself through your eyes for 180 weeks,
Now I'm trying to learn how to see again, looking through to what's underneath, but the pictures incomplete.
Track Name: Kim Kelly is still my friend
An unmade bed and three words all too rarely said,
We share a sickness, expanding roots beneath the ground,
Deeper and stronger they tie us down.

Heaven knows in desperate times that I get too self-referential, I can hardly bare to sing a song so blue,
We were drowning in an ocean of misplaced potential, staking claim to what we knew,
We invented our realities, and painted crazy fantasies on any scrap of paper we could find,
Preposterous conspiracies, and antidote to too much dumb bureaucracy, we fought free of the bind.

You said you had a hunch, that Gilesgate bank conceals a mausoleum, corpses buried under foot, where nobody can see them, all the residents of yesteryear reside, in secret dwellings underneath the street, trapped dissatisfied. And as silly as it was, I saw some truth in your tall tale, because everybody loses sometimes, everybody fails, these grim reminders underfoot keep us in check, the roots that drag us down, are the things we cant forget.

Origami planes and pillows with stupid names,
My composure crumpled by that creaky chair,
So I took a walk to clear my head, but because of force of habit,
I reached out to grab a hand that wasn't there.
Track Name: "I could carve a better man out of a banana"
Regaining her composure, she made a break for the door,
She couldn't bare to stare into his cold dead eyes any more,
With every step she took, the room turned a deper shade of gray,
By the time she'd dried her tears, all the colour had faded away.

The day the mine closed was the day things started to change,
What little money he had left funded an alcoholic rage,
To the extent that he was barely the same man anymore,
Tobacco papers, broken glass and empty cans on the floor,

Six months of booze and beating drove to react that way,
She'd never hurt a fly before that cold wet November's day,
She hid under the stairs and waited till the time she thought best,
She took a knife and drove it through his back with all the strength she had left,

She sat and thought about the situation she was in,
She was a murderer and an orphan and her only next of kin,
Was a grandfather who live so many miles away,
At a loss for things to do she began to pray,

''Father, help me. I couldn't stand it anymore,
I am 15, and alone, and behind that wooden door,
Lies the body of the person who has made my life a misery,
I need a plan, I need a solution, set me free"

Then it came to her, she thought:

I can hide the body underneath the shed where they wont find him.
So she hid his body underneath the shed, they never found him, they're not even looking.
She took the next train out of town and moved in with her grandad, she never told him.

(He never asked.)