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Born Ticking

by Viewfinder

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Born Ticking 05:06
here my brothers my children my every namesake extending thru time and to all overgrown my universe to disown my universe to disown reaping that sown by neural transvestites amplified thru glass and louder than nothing broken and jagged tearing the throat all fusion no spirit commercial not spin it like some grey instalment forsaking the forsaken a few from bottom up and rows of pews before a cup that holds some elixir some nasty spirit mixer drunk in the church so far has it come so deep has it sunk and buried beneath all the crap and the junk that funnelled itself from the sky since the start into the mouth of the babe freshly bawling born ticking
Money 02:28
money use me for this one use me for that use for the useless on the soaked alley sat with a soaked alley cat use his face for a mat give this tit take this tat poison your rats use all the numbers use what logic you got it's not useful its wasteful i want not your mortal rot tell me what use are you now money wont buy my silence tell me what use is your talk sniff this one sniff that go with your gut useless in hazes of smoke and of smut treading a line a long white line im feeling so fine my self is all mine thy kingdom is thine what use is time shoot up shoot up shawop shabop... money
Vibrations 04:15
It’s a Thursday, you are preparing for the day’s work, brushing your teeth and washing your skin to appear and feel at least presentable following the bluntness of waking. At some point during the walk from the front door of where you live to the bus stop where you catch a numbered bus that takes you to the underground station you feel a slight vibration at your ear, a dragonfly or a colourful moth or some vibrant insect vibrating near the the tender skin surrounding your eardrum, the vibrations causing furtive shivers throughout your body in response to the slightest breeze, you wave briefly to a neighbor, continuing towards the bus stop not entirely realizing that you are swatting at the vibration, almost inadvertently, with the speed and precision of catfish darting in water, you grow frustrated as your attempts at violence increase in vigor and failure, the insect evades you, you’re whole body shudders at the touch of a nearby hedge, a pedestrian shows brief concern, your thoughts of the people in your life, your inadequacies, your distractions are eclipsed by the thought of thousands of legs on hundreds of insects, your skin begins to crawl indefinitely, you pass what looks like the local park in the fervor of the morning semi-suburb and the worsening malaise of vibrations, you have entered the park without realizing, a second insect is intrigued by your ear it seems unless the first one has become more excitable or its vibrations have somehow become more present to you, you see trees and ponds, you see movement throughout the water, you cannot tell its cause, you hear rustles in every tree, you see each leaf moving fractional distances and back again, you sit at a bench near the water exhausted beneath the weight of the noise of it all, you have removed your clothes, there seemed no other choice, winged vibrations are surrounding your head and you become increasingly aware of miniscule movements of miniscule legs racing around your bare neck and chest, approaching your midriff and lower back, you find yourself in the water, it doesn’t matter and you are desperate, the water must rid you of this you believe, the clarity of it, you submerge your head, you are met with a new kind of confusion, warbled low resonances deafening in volume, you open your eyes and can make out in the gloom of the pond immaculate darkness composed of infinite movements and tiny flashes of light occurring hundreds, now thousands, now millions of times by the second
ominous cloud creeping thru the curtain and between two perfect holes sitting where my brain should be bats at night in hidden corners shrouded by the deep noise in the dark the cries are lean and i'm feeling mean tonight disembodied heads falling from some righteous neck and yes there are more faces than there are people with me now there's a limit to forgiveness and I found mine in a reflection lamplit london fading from behind the public glass
As I Know It 03:20
as i know it it's a bang bang drum pulling ever upwards like a child when it's sunk pushed into the pool by some inimical friend lights twisted in water and closing in fast as i know it it's an underground station blurred faces striving for a little admittance willing some gate to lurch itself open lurch itself open and reveal what's inside as i know it it's a seasick giraffe no trees in the sea just unsteady deck pinheaded sailors cavort in their language one ship in a largeness all gleaming and blue as i know it it's dust under the couch lurking unnoticed til it's too fucking late the sound of the vacuum the hum roar and suck the unfathomable noise ridding fabric of muck as i know it it's a tin of old paint bubble and curdle so love-like in death a black and white picture of somebody's day out eating sandwiches and riding a merry go round
you didn't ask to be born you take your drugs and your variations of porn you're a myth just waiting to happen but every day a part of you feel shattered institutions, disillusions instant moonlight in the eyes of a child disappearing, disappearing instant moonlight in the eyes of a child you sprawl with a cigarette in your hand you can forget about your promised land and you love with all of your brain you spend your summers in the windows of trains institutions, disillusions instant moonlight in the eyes of a child disappearing, disappearing instant moonlight dying and wild
call me the nightime rider for whom the moon does shine and it's goodbye to the beasts i tamed in this old home of mine fight me in the boxcar or any kind of train pierce me with your iron tooth and i will feel no pain a dream that was not spoken for too long nothing was strange and everything was wrong when i was a child i constructed from tins and rubber bands a shiny raft to float in and i still got the scars on my hands nothing is really different these thoughts still fall like rain always just some fiction but nothing really seems the same a dream that was not spoken for too long nothing was strange and everything was wrong


After disbanding his Edinburgh based noise-rock band and dropping out of university, Joel Burton returned home to London disillusioned. Using cheap synths, an FX unit, and some multi-track cassettes as his compass, he set about re-discovering how to write songs with subtlety and meaning. The result is Viewfinder’s ‘Born Ticking’, a collection of home recordings that manage to seamlessly combine Joel’s love of alt-country, post-punk, minimalist classical, jazz and the golden eras of both 90s indie rockers and 60s songwriters.

The songs on ‘Born Ticking’ come from a place of low energy and rootless inspiration. Joel’s free-associating lyrics wander from childhood memories to ruminations on dying, from interpersonal misfires to (mal)adjusting to adulthood, from struggles with self-love to finding unexpected beauty. The music is ambitiously constructed yet deeply human, managing to combine wilful imperfection with meticulously crafted composition. There is melancholy, sadness, and a rumbling undercurrent of anger – yet creeping out of ‘Born Ticking’s meditative tape-hiss is a profound sense of hope.


released March 20, 2017

Joel wrote, played and recorded everything on this EP.

Backing vocals by Aidan Lysaght.

Mastered by Josh.



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Memorials of Distinction London, UK

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Spewing morbid noise out into the void.


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