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Idiot Fingerz

by Esh & The Isolations

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1.
Everybody rejoice! What a glorious sound! The church bell still rings! The church burned to the ground! I’m a killer in heaven I’m the damned in the cold The sauntering mustang The whispering gold My idiot fingers tickle brainiac keys Keep tapping away when the dream’s a disease My family’s gone, my ecstasy blue My confessions are written in the very same hue And I don’t care if the ink drips Oh shit, Beelzebub froze I bust in my slippers then rust in my pose Won’t snitch to Hipster Five-0 I’m up to my nose in fucked if I knows I flow to alarm clock static Bedroom feels like an Anne Frank attic True life: I’m an A-bomb addict What’s another friendly snake to Saint Patrick? I snort that pistol smell When I Billy Burroughs a William Tell Dump a clip of them Fair-thee-wells and break bread with the wiz kid Ne’er do-wells Hit the work bench, Slacker Genius Here for now then it’s back to Venus with keys tucked in straight jacket creases Cactus needle on rap releases Prick, you ain’t got nothing on the gift Every other day the whole outlook switch Madcap dash to lunatic fringe I don’t purge, I just binge binge binge No doubt, no drowsy Auschwitz In the house, bound to be ousted like a louse, on lousy couches Gouge me out! Yeah, gouge me out, bitch! Ghostface falcon swag Breaking bad like I’m Malcolm’s dad Malcontent in his mountain lab Lock it down, it’s my Alcatraz Thou shall not pass, but nice to meet ya Habit creature with cabin fever Surgeon mask around fashionista Laughing at you fake Sandinista Please stop, I hate you all You can suck my dick and my hater balls Your baby’s ugly, I hate your dog Your beats are boring, your tape is soft All I want to do is move a few kids to shoot a cop when they cop the new shit Style on suckers like Posdnuos did Howdy doody’s like how’d he do it!? I don’t know, man I don’t know, man I don’t know
2.
Shoot 2 Kill 04:01
Food in the stomach, gas in the van Five o’clock shadow and Dracula tan Pushing a fang on a passionate Stan Don’t trust a man with Immaculate hands No. If you must know my black lungs spit dust bowl Over gun beats with gusto Clutch doe and huff rust-o You’re picket fence and grass yards, I’m gargling with glass shards Thick skin, black scars That I rock like a jacket at NASCAR Vroom. Ya boy ain’t right He’s all sucking venom out snake bites, And switch blades, and cage fights And piss and vinegar (date night!) Dare you to swim in my Gilligan Tide Nothing to loss when you’re willing die Filling my pockets is killing my high Don’t meet your heroes they’re living a lie True. Constantly wondering why I married the game with a wandering eye Giving her everything just to get by And I’m showing no mercy call me Cobra Kai No. Calling all Infidels Who Sold their soul, checks in the mail Push envelops like sleeper cells Push bamboo shoots under fingernails I got a style with no twin Your flow makes those who know cringe White boy, no awkward code switch And I shoot to kill Fix your incisors With two fists like meat tenderizers I’m like if they gave MacGyver A side kick and a psychic advisor Industry survivor Pirates, lies, and colonizers But they’re none the wiser Trash bars are gas in my dumpster fire I specialize in Making bombs out of fertilizer All glassy eyed after Highway drives on tranquilizers I’m off the Geiger I am death, I am Oppenheimer Without regret and I’m off that Pfizer And I shoot to kill Kill your ego, kill that monster Kill a cop they’re corporate killmongers Kill ‘em all, yup, kill the children Kill the beat like drones kill civilians Kill the messenger, kill the sender Killing brain cells, can’t remember Kill with kindness? Kill that noise Curmudgeonly killjoy Kill with ease and kill at will Kill the robots programmed to kill Kill for fun, just killing time Bit off kilter, killed that rhyme Kill a soldier and you’ll be honored But I’ve been sent to kill Sarah Connor Kill your battery, let it melt My phone just told me to Kill myself And I shoot to kill
3.
Lou Says 02:58
Lou says, “I must confess, I don’t know myself but know I’m no victim” He was born with a rose in his chest He hid from his wife under skin that don’t fit him Never walked away from himself But in his turmoil, he found a new Jesus Then rejected identity That fits in a box (out come the think pieces) There’s a cancer eating my guts I don’t know its name but talk to it daily It’s an eager Venus flytrap In platinum gold fronts that read, “fuck you pay me” My world dissolves in its jaw It’s shooting it’s cum, I’m having its baby I can feel the kink in my spine From swallowing sick. It’s starting to change me Was I really there? Lou says, “do more with less” Then penciled his eyes on a face with no features His soul would beam through his flesh The moment he fed them ravenous creatures Since I left an unfriendly nest I read the wrong texts, I had some bad teachers But I’d rather find a new door Than kneel at the feet of any gatekeepers I am fingering my inner cunt While horny old nuns resentfully shame me With a careless flick of the wrist I flaunt my freedom; their lies are my crazy I am not like you My father’s son, brother to four only children When I trace the map in my fingerprints And find me, I vow I will kill him I am an invisible man disappearing Was I ever really there?
4.
My kingdom for a Xanax; manic panic Whole damn planet lifts a glass to the damage Rich men cackle as the last block’s annexed They were always in it for the long con...Genghis Cabal is all bimbos and junkies Who fuck with beats dirtier than Timbos at Dunkies Kinfolk ugly, my kind of lovely Bundy-esque hubby with some bones in the cubby Game day cutty, name stay muddy Fame get studied so shit ain’t change, buddy Same shit Brave New World in plain view Boys in the yard are Daniel Plainview Protect ya milkshake, bloody your hands Hugging a cactus on a pilgrimage to comfier sands Living amongst the mirage, shoveling grub out of cans, Getting your news from the frauds telling you love is a scam I only speak in dagger or flower petal And gag on the words between ‘em The pastor who put the devil in your details The best minds of my generation are working retail Or stuck in a cubicle reading emails Poof! You’re a battery Casualty of smash and grab majesty Yeah, you put the gas in that yacht It’s that same framed picture of what you have not Yeah, what you ain’t got How much money do you need? How much money do you need Before that Costanza wallet fucks your back up How much money do you need? How much money do you need?! I’ve seen some devious lips whistling innocent tunes Now a lothario smirks as he is shooting the moon Heart full of beauty and doom, he shoots his toolie in bloom Likes all of our pretty songs but leaves the city in ruin Monocle polished with dollars, he got the penguin apparel Openly scoffs at the scholars who rock suspender and barrel While you’re splitting a bean, tugging a boot on a fishing line Robber baron apostles will profit off of your prison time You can’t charm the snake out his spine Or the cake out his back pocket, that’s his basic design And it’s amazing grace of the fading divine The Doomsday Clock face is on fire He got a Lady Liberty Jesus-piece, owns many an empty home And pricing them vis-a-vis a millennial terror dome Welcome. I fear no evil in hell alone Yea, though I walk through the Valley of Silicone How much money do you need?
5.
Me & my rhythm box
6.
Rich Parents 03:48
Let me get a handout from your rich parents Handout from your rich parents Handout from your rich parents Don’t want to work no more Let me get a handout from your rich parents Handout from your rich parents Handout from your rich parents Don’t want to work no more Life’s an expensive bastard, But not with anonymous benefactors! (Wink, wink) Sick of bending backwards To stay on guard like your fencing class It go, parry, parry, thrust, thrust Let me hold some of that trust, trust Promise this bubble won’t bust, bust Believe it or not, times are tough, tough So, if you don’t mind, call your dad, Your uncle, your brother, your cousin Chad Let ‘em know that I’m holding an empty bag Watch me go from rags to more rags Sugar momma gonna pay my rent So I can get these shoes out the wet cement Do what I’m meant to do with debt I’mma make it through year yet If I get a handout from your rich parents Handout from your rich parents Handout from your rich parents Don’t want to work no more Let me get a handout from your rich parents Handout from your rich parents Handout from your rich parents Don’t want to work no more Don’t want to work no more Don’t want to work no more Don’t want to work, don’t want to work Don’t want to work no more Had enough of this random fuckery Can’t be an artist and a man of luxury?! If you don’t let ‘em pluck your puppet strings No Muppet, that’s not my cup of tea (Takes sip) “That’s none of my business” Like white collar crime with another eyewitness To the tax man I’m nine digits Same as your parent’s bank account, isn’t it? No doubt, I can live in their carriage house Might be what they need to iron their broke marriage out Word, I don’t even need to be told How your family invested their Nazi gold Earmuffs! Nope, I heard nothing Better than the crabs stuck in this bucket Once they are done approving this budget I’ll be on that sailboat in Nantucket If I get a handout from your rich parents Handout from your rich parents Handout from your rich parents Don’t want to work no more Let me get a handout from your rich parents Handout from your rich parents Handout from your rich parents Don’t want to work no more Don’t want to work no more Don’t want to work no more Don’t want to work, don’t want to work Don’t want to work no more
7.
I will not get my peace I will not rest my mind Until these centipedes Stop crawling up my spine Wrench in my rib cage It kind of feels like dying It’s getting in my head It’s telling me them lies Rubbing elbows, My personal hell so Rocks bloody my shell toes Fine, I’ll be like “hell no, bye” See a crowd, turn around Y’all can pass me by Clipped wings, man I ain’t no social butterfly The doors are open and I’m watching bodies filling the room I’m hearing voices saying “everybody’s staring at you” Too many people now my paranoia’s setting the mood Overly analyzing every little thing that I do Don’t freak out!!! This is my prayer for sweet death and pet names While cultivating mic-drops wet as my sweat stains Private Dick Side-Eye is giving me chest pains My Telepathic cry for help is falling on deaf brains Won’t be staying long Camouflage confetti bomb Pocket full of clammy palm Buggin’ like I’m Anticon Head to the bathroom just so I can be alone in the stall I’ll make it awkward for a person I admire at all The doors are open and I’m watching bodies filling the room I’m hearing voices saying “everybody’s staring at you” Too many people now my paranoia’s setting the mood Overly analyzing every little thing that I do Don’t freak out!!! Choking on small talk Broke down but dolled up Whiskey helps me numb it, so what else would I do? Fridays are fun but Saturday’s fucked up Sunday’s when the scaries all come out and say “boo!” Don’t freak out!!!
8.
I Am Nothing 03:54
Nice to meet you I am Lenny petting rabbits Beluschi’s bad habits I’m a chain gang bandit Wishing I could hold your hand I do not know what I’m doing I am Leonard Cohen crooning I am fluent in brooding Over rocks in my chest I am a couch on a curb with cigarette burns Baby in a basket, mother in an urn Coward, runner, broken deadbolt I am boastfully opening Al Capone’s vault I’m a daredevil in a full body cast A quiver on the lip of an iconoclast In reluctant dissent to admit what he has And tell you that I am nothing Without you I am nothing Without you Look, I am not a doctor I read this off a teleprompter The truth is I am an imposter Don’t believe a word that I say It seems the needles of your voodoo Never slip when they tattoo you The magician couldn’t fool you Saw the tricks up my sleeve And on the day Jane died and Jim got the cancer Everything changed, there’s no necromancers Those were the moments old phones went unanswered And we became the children of our unwritten chapters Backs broken and the wounds still tender Blissfully drafting our terms of surrender Laughing in trenches, waving white flags There were typos in my vows, that’s my bad But I will write a ballad on a five-string guitar for you With a rusty blade, I will conquer any czar for you In a mason jar, I will bottle any star for you Just to hold you closer I would grow another arm for you I will take a dive to pull a fossil out the tar for you I will use my pen to hunt the men who would martyr you Climb the tallest oak for you and I to carve a heart into And cut my heart in two I am nothing Without you I am nothing Without you It turns out I found myself in someone else I found myself and I am nothing Without you
9.
Lemonade ain’t popular as it used to be I’m hanging that “do not disturb” to get loose and free All I got is this thirst to purge and worthless degree Simmer down while that skillet burns, peep recipe When shit hits the fan inflict some damage Like a one-two punch from a Kung Fu flick Let’s rumble Yup, your boy shoots the gift like Robocop shoots dick Your move, creep If you disappeared, I wouldn’t lose sleep Over lone wolves who prey on loose sheep Gunning for the top of ruthless new feeds New leaf Ebenezer Scrooge In a goodwill fit smelling like cheap hooch Don’t lose your head when that mantis dance the cooch Neck in a phantom noose with no plan to loosen Death comes in 3s like Hanson & Stooges Get stuck like hands on that glue stick Abandon that blueprint These thieves over our shoulders These meals of water and bread They ask how we are doing We say better than dead We are better than We are better than dead We are better than We are better than dead These fang marks from that cobra These bullets grazing our heads They ask how we are doing We say better than dead We are better than We are better than dead We are better than We are better than dead No locals here left alive Neighborhood pumpkin spice genocide All the crestfallen swept to the side Fuck your best-ofs and fuck your top fives You don’t want to question my weird flexes Put a worm in your ear it’s infectious Can’t count on those who count blessings Count doe or calculate wreckage You will respect my different strokes Same personality different cult Technical difficulties because technically I’m difficult Catapult curse, rap pariah Edison in his Black Maria Voodoo’s better than Black Messiah Soaked in gas, please light my fire We’re forced to drag this bolder From this here chain on our leg They ask how we are doing We say better than dead We are better than We are better than dead We are better than We are better than dead We lean into these crutches We leak, bandaging heads They ask how we are doing We say better than dead We are better than We are better than dead We are better than We are better than dead
10.
Every Rhyme 03:30
Every rhyme that I write Fine liquor is poured High society toasts A barbarian horde The skies are opened up An angel strums a chord Mothers burst into tears As they’re praising the lord Every rhyme that I write Get a text from my ex Saying he wants me back With a list of regrets An artist quits their job Malignant tumors shrink Somebody outs a fraud A banker’s in the clink Volcanic ash starts erupting Captive endangered pandas start fucking Billionaire go broke, they got nothing Haters convert and keep the props coming There’s a mystic curse being lifted Tooth being picked, a snitch minds their business A midget grows a few inches And smacks the shit out you bitch ass critics And all the girls say And all the boys say And all the theys say Every rhyme that I write A Nazi gets punched A woman’s believed A soul isn’t crushed There’s a virgin that scores There’s a dream that is chased There’s a round of applause As a pussy is shaved Every rhyme that I write A dictatorship ends A middle-aged man Doesn’t follow a trend Spirit of Kubrick nods Bowie winks from a cloud Then the ghost of Old Dirty Throws you a pound A star collapses and a politician tells the truth A cop pulls somebody over that he doesn’t shoot A worker earns a proper wage and doesn’t have to steal A televangelist chokes on an expensive meal Space invaders say there’s intelligent life on earth A close talker with the dragon buys a pack of Certs I heard the pope is a fan, but I can’t confirm Was told he does a back flip and sticks the landing, word And all the girls say And all the boys say And all the theys say
11.
Chef Kiss 03:26
“My heavens” - Rich girls clutching their pearls in my presence Podcast’s asking me what my process is Write next shit & punctuate it with a chef kiss “So Impressive” - Empaths hoping to soak in my essence Cats outside of your show in 5 seconds And my guess is that we are not on the guest list I always show up Glow’d up Dripping like my throat after coke bumps Yup, I’m all growns up Road dog on a fucking shit-town gold rush Now, ain’t that something? Teacher told me I need my head piece shrunken Beats that’ll get dem bourgeoisie slumming Bars that’ll leave your pumpkin all sunk in We don’t, we don’t We don’t, we don’t We don’t, we don’t Fuck with you anymore (Nah I ain’t crying, I was just chopping onions) It’s a problem Got the ugly in him and it don’t play possum I’m your rock bottom like cups of Top Ramen Rhymes commonly sound like god dropped ‘em Hobgoblin at your dot com mobbin’ In Anonymous mask, hit that bottle and pass Death row inmate with his palm on the glass There’s a Boston ghost here from my Providence past You can pay to see My eyes roll and fist do the Shake Weight, basically Nosy neighbors all peeking out drapery First taste’s free, but now your bowing out gracefully Lobster Boy gonna start his own papacy And run shit like a hundred Jasons are chasing me Tastefully shameless, covered from A to Z With a steez so blatantly major league (Hadouken) I can’t lose, there’s Russki collusion Spinderella’s in the back room shoop-ing So, no you can’t speak to my manager, Susan It’s a shoe in, like on tour every rapper got a SP 404 Hardcore, got ‘em screaming “encore, encore” Say my name, say my name, say no more We don’t, we don’t We don’t, we don’t We don’t, we don’t Fuck with you anymore
12.
Cock sure and head strong Depends on the shoulder it rests on Gas myself like I’m a lemon at Chevron Then crash so hard you’re like, “Sanka you dead, mon?" Go on, poser, get ya marketing trend on With ya off-brand ass - Jimmy Electron Looking like you’re an exec at Exxon I’m a toddler dropping f-bombs Donald-ducking, crack like I’m plumbing Birds, turning a hat trick, the turducken When in Dublin get drunk in public Mug looking dumber than Hacksaw Jim Duggan’s That’s one step to a better you C’mon dude, I got you covered like a never-nude I see you kissing ass, get a room Lofty thoughts like edibles are being fed to DOOM Ya boys fucked up and broke, but still posts motivational quotes Cool cool cool Says he wear his heart on his sleeve, but talks shit as soon as anyone leaves Cool cool cool Acts like you don’t exist, but magically gonna bite your shit Cool cool cool Play a dope beat for these fools, and they’re like, “yeah, but I make beats too” Cool cool cool I rap like Nero plucks fiddle Rome burns and I give zero fucks, kiddo I’m Godzilla on Zillow knocking down a hood near you like dominoes You hold up minnows like a trophy fish Cornball Tinder profile bro-y shit When I see you in the wild, I’m like, "holy shit. Hold this, I got a bowie knife and throat to slit. Mine.” Dark thoughts see often Hidden in my brain like Shankar Vedantam Put ‘em on paper, your squad will geek off ‘em Rock like I’m given carte blanche to be awesome My coven looking like The Crucible You got the willies, now you nibble your cuticles I paddle up shit creek in a new canoe If you see barkeep, I’ll take the usual You lose if you don’t play games, douche bags get money and fame Cool cool cool Best friend could die on the cross, and all you’ll get is some prayers and thoughts Cool cool cool Showing off your new watch, and want to tell me how much it cost Cool cool cool Start hiding all your flaws, cuz now you’re taking up your new cause Cool cool cool
13.
All rise Never mind, lick the boot and crawl by Small guy with tall wife that’s all thigh Bob Power low end, crystal ball eyes Stay alive, double knot family ties Live or die, survive the famine inside Take a Hip shot, ignore a plan to divide In the name any invisible man in the sky Fuck it, let’s let the planet decide I guess worldwide calamity’s nigh I ain’t falling for no glamorous lie Your favorite rapper is a nail in a hammer disguise Better check if his Pampers are dry Me and mines induce a panicky vibe If the pay sucks, then shit on the manager’s dime Don’t pander to the masses witty banter aside Kiss my stereo Spit them black cat miracles ‘Til flower girls toss them marigolds And merry-go-round my burial Merry-go-round my burial New age hazy Loose fit faith As I lazily float thru this shoe-gaze space Who saves face? In this shameful coast To where graves lay And souls decay Faster than their casings In this 2k late, blind date Being stood up by our saviors - Still waiting move the info, I mean “product” Post-haste While we waist-high with waste Polyethylene waves And we Wade this Deadpool That was once suitable for fish hatching ‘Til they all got caught up in six-pack rings Sorry Esh, is this too off-topic? It’s just disaster’s my home address Trudging thru & hopeless My exact fucking coordinates Rappers still whoring For some face ink and ornaments Shut the fuck up And let the 808 speak It’s more important than your oratory - Basic little boring bitch
14.
Got a lot of hurt in him, symptom of an open breast Last straw, then he barbered up the Rolodex It's all who you know, and who I know is no one Thought I knew myself but was like “baby that is no fun” Iggy with a shirt on, Lou without the drag Chased a friendly dragon then maneuvered out the back That was my advance, I’ll recoup and then relax Stupid, when I rap it's like a Fukushima blast Alas, weight of the world – Atlas’ traps You can keep that plastic trash Alright, dude, peep it. I only trust the eye I can't see with Poltergeist, keep your dirt mitts off the Zenith, I mean it What’s it mean to be a dreamer? The shaman’s deceased; the new priests are meme-rs Who all got us thinking the same thing at the same time Our concern is maintaining our mainline Fuck that shit, I’m Dylan singing We Are the World Out of step, out of touch, unfurled And proud of it Feeling like you don’t belong can feel kind of funny ‘Til you realize you don’t belong to nobody So, that’s pretty cool. Let me break it down so you can understand You ain’t getting duped, man, you ain’t getting scammed I am the hand of a universal plan Not a fan? Cool, I'm a human not a brand Toast to the poet’s soul, liver be damned It’s real from the 1st to the 21st gram Witness to the birth of a sacrificed lamb Your smile’s all white veneers, nice tan Daddy bought you diamonds, daddy bought you gold But daddy can’t buy you backbone or soul, no Cuddled up with Gaia, did it for the nookie You angered your messiah when you grabbed her by the pussy Don’t do that. Built a little Valhalla. Holler, where my Vikings at? Vinyl while I’m chopping up garlic for the psychic vamps Poison ivy like The Cramps, calling cuz I got the itch Chasing tail like a dog, never thought that life’s a bitch Shit, I’m an American, there’s way too many guns here Garbage in the frontier, chief shedding one tear I was sold fear, but I wasn’t moved a cunt hair I was busy accidentally conjuring your bugbear Whoops. A 3-card tarot deck, picked the fool Never give it up, there’s too much power in the ritual And the incantation. Rose of a new thorn, grew up out the chop shop Heat up a scene as lukewarm as a watched pot Dot, dot, dot...

about

The haphazard sonics on Idiot Fingerz are crafted in the style of the 1987 Max Headroom Incident. The LP - Written produced, and arranged by frontman Esh - plays like the ranting of a masked recluse on pirated airwaves, manically weaving poetic ruminations with childish buffoonery - all fed through the hiss of a broken tube amp. It explores concepts of Identity, wealth, & seclusion, over production that ranges from kinetic synth-punk to grime-ball boom-bap and trap. Esh’s lyrics are razor-sharp, and shift from heartfelt to scathingly sardonic fluidly.

credits

released May 1, 2020

All songs written and produced by Esh
Recorded at Revson Studios

Mixed by Esh & Arc
Mastered by The Arcitype at The Bridge Sound & Stage

Additional vocals on:
Tracks 6, 8, 10, 11, 14 by Nicole LeBlanc of ORCHIDS
Track 13 by IAME of Wool See
Track 10 by J Ring of Baabes

Guitar on tracks 2, 3, 4 by Hadden Stemp of Honey Oil
Recorded at Fingerprint Studios

Saxophone on tracks 1 & 10 by Tim Hall
Recorded at Hipstory Studio

Art by Esh
Photography by Harrison Searle

Shout out to any and all Isolations: Amelia Gormley, Christian Hardy, Jesse Russell, & Lightfoot.

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Esh & The Isolations Boston, Massachusetts

3 Kids in a trench coat.

Respect the Craft.

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