Home Taping Is Killing Me

by Hussalonia

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Vesuvius I love this one. It's the only time I feel the PSA non music tracks actually fit in with the album. Favorite track: A Head In The Phones.
  • Cassette + Digital Album

    100 copies - first 22 copies housed in a custom trademark slipcover - Ironically titled, craftily assembled pop treasures from the mysterious Hussalonia camp

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PSA 1 00:45
In this world there is more bad than good, but the good is fucking great. You can fill a planet with all the things I don’t know. I bring a universe with me wherever I go. You can make some sense from all this mess or just shrug and revel in it deep now. Despite how innocent your face is, you’ve got teeth in all the right places. Loneliness will drive you to the pursuit of dreams. Heartache will define you. Nothing is as bad as it seems. I’m ready to go wherever you are to do whatever you want to do, ‘cuz there’s nothing left for me anymore. I can only think in metaphor. Keeping the company of the dead.
Shading in the white squares of a checkered past. A black canvas in relief, yeah I’ve got to laugh. ‘Cuz now that you’ve all fallen away, history is mine to rewrite. Did I leave you left for dead or was it suicide? Should I paint you out completely or paint you at my side? ‘Cuz now that you’ve all drifted away, history is mine to rewrite. I’ll get you where I want, in or out of my mind. History is mine to rewrite
If you think that you have finally found love, then you’re troubles have just begun. ‘Cuz every love story is a story about change, of lives brutally rearranged. Misery, let me keep you company. Love results in the misperception of perfection. It’s an act of willful deceit. It’s the trick we all want to believe. Lipstick stuck on liars and crooks in a room filled with “I know you” looks.
Emergency exits. Stuck in a place with no words and what happens next? I’ve got three or four five voices in my head. If I can’t have one, give me nothing else instead. You can have me up to here. Make it loud and clear. Make me all shook up, an assault upon the ears. You take or leave me here. Strike up the bandolier. Make me all shook up, an assault upon the ears.
PSA 2 00:25
No To Some 02:15
I wrote you a letter in study hall. I wanted to take you to the mall, but I’m awkward and I’m broke. I must have misspoke. You asked me to meet you at the punk rock show. I dressed up and went, but you didn’t go. It’s a part of growing up. You just stop showing up. I went from no to some idea what I’m doing. They asked me to play a local show. I said that I would, but I didn’t go. That’s the way we learn. The rejected want their turn. I said no to some. ‘Not sure if I said it to the right ones.
Sometimes I want to reminisce. Sometimes I want to set the past on fire. I exist because you insist. A byproduct of your production. I have no meaning alone. Dig up your records and rattle their bones. What the hell am I doing on the floor? I’m looking for a trap door.
From cut out bin to cut it out. Never understood what the fuss was about. You and I decide an arbitrary line to abide. A head in the phones is a head not alone. Not getting easier with age A sad, old prisoner at home in his cage. Getting friends, getting along, humming a sad, old song
No Time 01:25
I’d love to but I have no time, and what I have is no longer mine. I’m on the inside, looking in. The sentences will not add up. The sentiments divide and break up. Subtracting to the root, I cave in.
I’ve been damaged bad. Yeah, I’m damaged goods. Here I stand before you, misunderstood. Listen to the rattle under my hood. I’m gonna try to love you, if I could. Feeling broken, beyond repair. All moving parts fixed as the still summer air. Listen to me rattle about how I’m no good. I’m gonna try to love you, if I could. There’s a little hope that I might actually make good. I’m gonna try and love you, if I could.
There’s a rabbit hiding on the front lawn. If I don’t move, you won’t know I exist. I’ve been sliding, thinking things I thought I wouldn’t. If I don’t think, I won’t know they exist. Like a curse you could invoke with a word you only spoke, please don’t make me say its name.
PSA 3 00:33
Record Bins 00:05
There’s too many records in your record bins. How ’my gonna get my fingers in?
Unnatural selection Perennial depression Destructive predilection May I spit in your direction? Obsessive fixation Emotional starvation Talent misapplication Fruitless edification Serial dissection Anxious introspection I’m a portrait of frustration The soul of suffocation The heart of emulation A desperate creation Sentenced to artistic damnation I’m a portrait of
o rlly? 01:22
There’s a lot to be misunderstood. And I’m dead set. Taking shallow breaths in order to survive so I can barely say that I’m alive. Oh, oh really, oh really? To you it is fact, but to me it’s just theory. A bird in the heart’s worth two in the book. Oh Christ, don’t you give me that look. History be kind, I know not what I do. I’m of and out of time. What is commonplace for me, I know won’t be commonplace for you. The future’s just a way to perfect the past. The present’s an opportunity for people to react. And tradition is a trap!
I travel on uneven surfaces. You can weigh me before and after and you will find that all my gestures carry measurable weight. I met you when my romance had all run out. You should have seen me years ago, writing poems and carving trees, flipping birds and starving bees. I write you with all my heart and stolen office supplies, composing the greatest lies of my life. Possibilities will exceed actualities. I’ve had a good run, all that’s left is to be undone. Break the silence of the sea. Everything must go, even history. Take one, take two, take three, take what’s left of me.
I contextualize my fiction, put it all into perspective: there is no magic to recapture or even old tricks to revisit. And in the days of wine and trenches, glass birds on verbal fountains, sort of glad that someone did it. Sort of glad it wasn’t me. And if I stand here too long, I won’t be the same man. I’ll be as idle as an engine, as paralyzed as land. I’ve invented a character or two, maybe one I’ve introduced to you - a high school English teacher, a pop music cult leader. Ah, but the truth is always with me. I still feel the weight of the latchkey, a screwed up son of a drunk, a welfare kid, an art school flunk. Put down your forks and knives, because I struggle in both lives.
Let me guess. Oh illusion, poorly clad. Everything just makes me sad. I’ve been loyal and I suffered. Trifling thing, the singer poorly sings. Tugging at the heart’s frayed strings. Is there anyone listening? I’m not going to measure time. Time will measure me, eventually. Will you work for fame?


Hussalonia is a pop music cult owned by Nefarico™, manufacturers of fine luxury soaps.

This album was previously available as a bootleg in various Eastern European markets. It is now being made available as a limited edition cassette under license from Nefarico™. Read more about it in the cassette liner notes. Cassettes also come with a coupon for $1.00 off your next purchase of Nefarico™ washing goggles.

Visit www.hussalonia.com for more information.


released September 17, 2013

All songs written and performed by the Hussalonia founder, except for the guitar solo in "Assault Upon the Ears" which was performed by stunt guitarist Eric M.


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