The Kids Dig It

by Fast Eddie Music Conspiracy

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as the end credits roll backward toward the beginning of the end, the opening shot reveals in the first few frames the details to decode the final dissolve… inspiration, perversion and corruption conspire to pollute and inspire... to breathe within without among and between... to break, to brake, to destroy destructive patterns, to slow down… reflection, recollection, recreation, recognition, re-evolution, realization...

the realization that maybe you're a cog caught up in some crazy machine, pledging allegiance in the name of the machine willingly or unwillingly feeding the fires of the empire, contributing to man's arrogant battle against nature and man finding ways to impose his will upon nature and man, in doing so, loses his humanity and becomes more insect-like, living and working in service of the hive...

kafka was on to something, he understood the grave consequences of this all-consuming alchemy, as did mary w. shelley... dr. frankenstein as prometheus as modern man as prometheus, and his creation plays the role of the golem/adam (yhvh made adam from dust) as well as modern man and his effects on his environment... a man-made monstrosity, self-replicating, creating chaos and destruction in its wake...

awakened by the nightmare and horror of humanity, you take a deep breath and recognize it as the living spirit breathing within and around all... and realize all is not chaos and destruction, all is beauty, creation and destruction... and revere the beauty and light residing in all... only to repeat the tragedy when time, forgetfulness and spiteful pettiness corrupt the quest and reverence becomes anathema...

any thoughts or reflections are now turned inward and kept hidden, but you look in the mirror and ask, "would you please help me to paint on this smile?" because you have to protect and project the image, the illusion of happiness... playing pretend to placate the passive masses grazing plastic pastures... how does this help us grow? not wise, but bored and angry...

so the sickening sweet has you chewing through your cheek and grinding your teeth down to the nerves, yet you keep gnawing away... to make matters worse, you suck down the sugar and saccharine you're constantly spoonfed to assist the eroding and corroding of your mouth and mind... but now you've become addicted to the pain and a mere root canal cannot satiate your dolorous desires, so you clench your jaw so much that you reward yourself with a case of self-inflicted tmj, everytime you feel that pop! you fall into a paradise of pain and for that fleeting moment you're alive...

otherwise, you're mostly dead inside... maybe because you have lived your whole life with the suspicion that you're the subject of some experiment, the target of market researchers evaluating and calculating your every move... bombarded with images of what you need, want, must have, until volition becomes automatic response to stimuli and all you truly feel any more is alienation...

possibly ending up in a place like 6 east... a route, a direction,a destination, an intersection of good intention and questionable execution, a collision of competing conflicts, a cross-section of conspiracies both real and imagined, as if there really is a difference... and again you're faced with the difficulty of distinguishing between objectivity and subjectivity until you figure out there really is no difference...

truth and fiction, fact and fantasy weaving within one another, coiling in spirals of shadow and light... standing at the edge of the abyss, you stare into the darkness of the void until you see the light within and witness the instantaneous dance of creation and destruction at the quantum level, the union of infinite and infinitesimal...

awed by the complexity and confusion of your abysmal enlightenment, the revelation of your transformation and alteration, a tear forms only to be wiped away by the sole of someone's shoe and a harsh reality kicks in literally... orwell understood too well, whether to be the foot or the face, to step lightly or stomp heavily, all the grand metaphors are reduced to a boot to the head...


released October 11, 2005

All songs written, performed and ℗&© 2005 by fast eddie music conspiracy, produced by fast eddie music conspiracy and Ryan Cullen, recorded and mixed by Ryan Cullen. Additional vocals on tracks 9 and 10 by Ryan and Janelle, additional percussion on tracks 2 and 9 by Ryan. Art assistance by Jason Caddell, Bill Colgrove and Matt Cummins.

Historical photographs: Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, FSA-OWI Collection, LC-USF33-T01-000234-M2 DLC and LC-USF33-011223-MI DLC.

Thanks to Ryan and his various dwellings, Mike Potter and Orion Sound Studios, Dingleberry Dynasty, Mike Keneally and Bryan Beller, Frank Marchand and Waterford Digital, Mudshark, The Penthouse and crew, Skeleton Key, Trephine, the Jepetto guys and Estradasphere for indulging us musically. Special thanks to our families (especially Brigid and Janelle) for their faith and support and to Steve Kaeser and Kelly Thomas for their generous contributions to the cause. Props to the moshing hippies, the spinning meatheads and everyone else who listens. Peace.

Jonesy (6-string & upright bass) uses Zon, Brubaker, Ampeg and Kay.
Kirby (drums/percussion/vocals) uses Ludwig drums, Zildjian cymbals, Remo heads and Promark sticks. Thanks to Darren Z at Chuck Levin's, Bay Tunes and Acousticopia.
Jeremy Reichwein (guitars/vocals) users Barber Electronics' burn unit and tone pump, Fender amps, Mesa cabinets, Taylor acoustic guitars and custom electric guitars.
The Durst (keyboards) uses Hammond, Kurzweil and Yamaha keyboards.



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Fast Eddie Music Conspiracy Annapolis, Maryland

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Track Name: Boot to the Head
He's gone and joined the new race
He's done for, losing grace
Losing face, just to get by

It all depends on your dependencies
Your proclivity or tendency
To dispose of your independence
For the shallows and the deep end

Push becomes shove
becomes bump
becomes boot after boot
after boot
but it ain't quite kickin'

Clicking in
Checking out
Getting on
Getting off
Figure it out yourself
Checking in
Checking out
Sinking in
Getting out
Getting off of it
Track Name: 6 East
I cannot feel, for the constant medication
Always, I do not live with insincere dedication, maybe
I try to learn from my daily trepidations
So that I may find peace for some solemn meditation
Always hurry up and wait for no one, hurry up and wait for nothing.

You do not see all the stirred up complications
Because you only work with the given information
It was you all along, in a clinical observation, before
You found a clue without any investigation
So you hurry up and wait for no one, hurry up and wait for nothing.

"They" are the cause of our past and future fighting
Because "They" made the maze and the traps and bits we're biting
So that we do not see all the knowledge you are finding
"They" are we, we are "They" - you and I forever minding, no more
Hurry up and wait...
Track Name: Automatic
I am the living, guaranteed market and target disguised
for sinister phrenology reversed - they go in through your eyes

Someone has to stop the cycle
Something has to break the chain
Of endless automatic déjà vu
Preprogramming you frame by frame

I am the sinusoidal line that reels you in, that brought you here
as architects of paradigms install in you what seems sincere

And all that you have ever known
or felt or thought or overcome
has polished bones of corporate chrome
and you think you're the only one
Track Name: Root Canal/Thematically Modified Jam
Intoxicated by this raw nerve,
compelled beyond reason to touch
Repeated drilling into wind spits
the willing, molding fillings from dust
Consumed and cocooned and consumed
by cotton and candy corroding the crown

dissolves like the sugar that
rots the teeth
falling out of my
empty head

Intoxicated by this raw nerve,
compelled beyond reason to touch
Repeated drilling into wind, spitting
fillings molding will into dust
Forging a flavorless, faceless facsimile
feeding the fascist within

dissolves into sugar that
rots the teeth
falling out of my
empty head

When I say "pain," you say "more"...

We need a root canal
Track Name: Please
Would you please tell me to paint on this smile?
Long time I've waited here, in this quiet disguise
Dead stopped in motion, my life for your eyes
Seeing the smiles and seeing the faces with no one inside

The child inside has grown
Become a bigger baby
This pain is not his own
But he's the one to face it

Could someone tell me? I've not had the time
I'm sick of waiting here, in this life I despise
Just sitting in wait to find the answer...
Track Name: Rev E
How can you say you don't believe?
Just because you don't believe
in me, in you, in anything
Still you find a center around the familiar

Putting up walls with no windows or doors
a pressurized room with cracked paint on the floor

The deafening emptiness of ignorance

How can you go on so openly?
So openly alone in
your sensitive community
Leaving the humanoid trapped in humanity
blinded and crawling, repeating the tragedy

Pulling the same strings again and again
separate songs that share the same end
Track Name: In the Name of the Machine
Wearing the scars of the city
so fresh they still bleed
on stainless skin, from seam to shining seam,
a mass of gears and greed
this luminous fortune stills the dream american

So feed the fires of the empire
the souls of those to come
on stainless skin, from seam to shining seam,
green is just a memory
this manifest industry kills the dream american

so don't look so surprised
at your machine's design

in the name of knowledge
in the name of progress
in the name of the machine
is the shape of the machine
will be the end of the machine