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Onward Aeropuerto

by Susie Asado

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    The CD comes in cardboard packaging with a booklet including all lyrics and photographs by Anja Conrad. Packaging and booklet are designed by Franziska Morlok.

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1.
Clouds 03:43
CLOUDS clouds on my mind if you're a cloud you're my kind clouds in my heart there is a sky shape-shifting body parts clouds over my head I've been looking for that which the wind blows away clouds, hold my hand I have a feeling you might understand clouds, stay a while you could move in I'm done taking my time clouds, take off your shirt I want to see what you got underneath all that dirt clouds, I know your nature I know you're planning a grand departure clouds, sounds like rounds I am going in circles I'm hanging upside down clouds, don't hang so low you are bringing me down with all the things you know clouds, never mind I got better things to do than run after your kind clouds, I'm moving on I am taking on new shapes drifting away and gone
2.
RETROSPECTIVE It's 2:55 p.m. and the chairs are pulled from the table this is where we ate, these are the forks this is where I stood wearing a unitard and black socks 1988 is alive and well in a photograph frozen like the Art Deco lady in a Fledermaus dress you'll find me in a museum, in a traveling show in my Malibu home after exercising So cruel of you to remind me you never opened the mail you thought you were so clever the historical significance of the open book the photograph inside the photograph here I stand in my most gothic look carefully done up by the meticulous knife of years spent writing a story that Miss Havisham perfected long ago 1988 is alive and well in a photograph frozen like the Art Deco lady in a Fledermaus dress you'll find me in a museum, in a traveling show in my Malibu home after exercising There is a luminous body moving in a dark cave tell me that ghost story again sink your teeth into my arm, you can draw blood we can say it was real and later you can sell it to a collector for his second wife I almost missed the retrospective at the entrance of the museum the sky was dark with birds. Thank you for saving me a spot in the mausoleum. Thank you for including me in the show. 1988 is alive and well in a photograph, frozen like the Art Deco lady in a Fledermaus dress you'll find me in a museum, in a traveling show in my Malibu home after exercising
3.
THE BALLAD OF JOHNNY Johnny was a spy, he worked for the KGB he was a poet, a scholar, a gap-toothed dandy. When I first saw him, he was standing at the piano his hand inside the soundboard doing god knows what. I thought I heard him quietly reciting Blake. I shivered, felt awkward, thought I'd made a mistake. Johnny had his way of making you think you were the thief of second-guessing your motives of questioning your every belief. He had his way combing my hair into a knot of changing my steps from certain to not. We moved into an apartment overlooking a bridge we had everything from a television to a fridge. He took photos of the bus stop across the street he took notes, read books, seemed diligent and neat. Little did I know he was tangled in a larger plot I was busy being quiet trying not to disturb his thoughts. Perfecting to silently whisk pancake batter correcting my posture, my diction and my chatter. Johnny had his way of making you think you were the thief of second-guessing your motives of questioning your every belief. He had his way combing my hair into a knot of changing my steps from certain to not. Johnny disappeared before breakfast the first of June he left to get milk and never returned. His camera, his favorite books, his notebooks were gone the only conclusion was that his departure was planned. At the police station, in a cold room, I tried my best to play my part I talked about love, Johnny's favorite foods, poetry and art. They talked to me for a whole year and more called me a collaborator a traitor a whore. The only way to avoid further incarceration was to work for the CIA and in a state of desperation I traded my life for a name and I traded my heart for a gun, now twenty years later I'm still on the run. Johnny had his way of making you think you were the thief of second-guessing your motives of questioning your every belief. He had his way combing my hair into a knot of changing my steps from certain to not.
4.
Drei Steine 02:44
DREI STEINE Lampe, Kabel, Glühbirne‚ vier Uhr morgends Sicherung raus, lesen im Dunkeln, denken die Stunden Worte gefunden. Zähne beißen Stoff, Füße suchen Boden Ich hab's Dir gesagt, heute wird's regnen, Plastik ist hart die Nacht ist eh hin. Doch es sind noch drei Steine Übrig geblieben von meinem Traum ich leg sie Dir in die Taschen. Morgen gehen wir in den Wald, die Bäume werden warten. Halt meine Hand. So steht's in den Karten. Ich dachte, ich wüsste den Weg. Ich dachte, ich höre Schritte. Ich dachte, ich hätte Dich gefunden. Ich dachte der Zaun ist die Mitte und wir wären schon fast da und wir wären greifbar, die Luft wäre ganz klar und es wäre Januar. Doch es sind noch drei Steine Übrig geblieben von meinem Traum ich leg sie Dir in die Taschen. Morgen gehen wir in den Wald, die Bäume werden warten. Halt meine Hand. So steht's in den Karten.
5.
MONSTERA DELICIOSA I am a warrior in the battles of neighbors and lovers. I collect dust and flicker flackers of light and driblets of water water water. I get tended to by loving botanists who turn their back when the money runs out cruel glances, rough hands. The winter is long when the knives are on the table. Is collecting dust supposed to be an occupation? Here I am proper windowsill decoration. I once was a princess from South America now I'm a desert drought dust of hysteria. No furnace can fool me which country I am in. A greenhouse is still a house and a louse is still a louse no matter how charming the particulars, no matter how fancy the cigars. I am the jungle that once was and the jungle that will be again. To remind you we are meant to be growing monstera big monstera deliciosa monstera forever. The room that I room in, is not the room I doom in it's the room I bloom in now you know.
6.
THREE CUP SHUFFLE Susie lived with a con artist a real artist a thief she admired his records his bottles, his keys he worked from the crack of dawn until the crack of dawn he was never around and one day he was gone Susie found his secrets tossed in the drawer with the socks like Bluebeard's wife she turned the key in the lock In a metal box lay a foot-long braid like a snail, a limb an undetonated grenade Susie saw it on television many nights in a row: even a pleasant plumber can turn into a murdering Joe There is his brush there is his blood his fingerprints are all over the cup Every scarf, screw, knife rope that he left Susie kept as evidence of an event that transpired here's a man who got away unscathed a man whose every move you can trace That was the year they opened the High Line Park all primed and pruned a kind of promenade there she saw him surrounded by lost souls doing the three cup shuffle with blurry suave hands How can one escape such artistry a trick so articulate practiced and neat there is the ball there are three cups it's simple watch what I'm doing first slow, then fast Susie took a picture like an undercover cop with sunglasses and hat like a spy for Scotland Yard at home she pinned the photograph to her wall a reminder for life that some games can't be won and to always be on your guard
7.
IF, A LETTER, "O" If I could change one letter of my DNA I would change the letter that would give me X-ray vision like my mother she can see through skin and bones she can spot cowards con artists and clowns. If I could drop one letter of my name I would drop the letter A and then you would know where I came from and where I'm going and why I will never be back why this street is blue and these trees are black. If I could change the letter that I sent I would take out the "love" from the argument. I would take out "parachute" "seahorse" and "Rome" I would take out "balcony" "electric" and "home" If a letter could save my life it would be the letter "o" and I would wear it as a life jacket, as a thought, as a dress, as a ring. I will start over and I will sing "o"
8.
ONWARD AEROPUERTO A big shark came to my house we made brunch and sang songs. He showed his teeth my mind went wild helicopters. That the story doesn't end well well, I don't have to write a book to tell. But I'll sing: the mind's a fragile thing. When dreams run I won't give up. Onward aeropuerto. I shook my home like a shoebox a tumbling kaleidoscope. I saw a light, the chips fell down there was no turning back. The rooms are bright the traffic loud, rent's going up I'm safe not proud. So I'll sing: home's a fragile thing. When dreams run I won't give up. Onward aeropuerto. What does not kill you makes you stronger. Even contamination can make you live longer. Take a canary into a coal mine, as long as you hear singing, you know you will be fine. This street has changed, the city changed I am changed and rearranged. My hair is gray, I'm here to stay one battleship one word one step one song one crime one slip one fall one find at a time. So I'll sing: life's a fragile thing. When dreams run I won't give up. Onward aeropuerto.
9.
DEAR IMMIGRATION OFFICER Dear immigration officer I have tomorrow and the next few weeks off I'm on vacation, can't you see my fascination with the documentation of historical landmarks local custom dress dancing food flora and a certain señora Dear immigration officer I belong to a country of sad stories. here's my passport for the authorities I would like to consult your libraries regarding historical landmarks local custom dress dancing food flora and a certain señora Dear immigration officer I am a killer of potted plants of teacups and of mosquitoes I'm a writer of librettos and a taker of photos of historical landmarks local custom dress dancing food flora and a certain señora Dear immigration officer I have been standing here for a long long time I do like conversation and the subtleties of flirtation but now I would like to go on my exploration of your historical landmarks local custom dress dancing food flora and a certain señora
10.
TRAIN OF THOUGHT days are filled with buttons and knobs cables and wires that receive voltage going down electrical rounds multi-function controls blinking lights the afternoons are dark and the lows line up in rows on the console I dreamt I got a horse but it was someone else's dream something from the radio or something from between late nights and early mornings sometimes my ears ring and everything spins like a merry-go-round, only faster the sound is unmastered an unstoppable pandemonium a giant hum hum an out of control drum the sum of a city that does not take pity It doesn't flinch doesn't wince I once was a prince, now I'm frazzled by traffic and attracted to the homesick we should kiss under umbrellas visit gorillas and chinchillas at the zoo it isn't far, we can take the dining car all the way to Rome or take it home
11.
MACH EINEN KNOTEN Das Eis ist glatt und das Messer scharf. Die TÜr ist schwer und der Stein ist hart. Zähle zehn Finger, zwei Arme, zwei Beine und ein Kopf und ein Herz. Zähle das alles dran bleibt und heil bleibt ohne Scherben und ohne Schmerz. Zähle die Jahre, die Strassen, die Länder schreib die Zahlen in Deinen Kalender. Und mach ein Fest, lad alle ein. Mach einen Knoten, der heilt, der hält. Tue so, als ob es gar nicht eilt. Die Paradiesvögel blühen, der Vulkan geht spazieren mit jedem Schritt, das Feuer von innen sortieren. Mit jedem Schritt neue Kraft gewinnen und tanzen bis die Funken singen.

credits

released October 11, 2013

"Onward Aeropuerto" was made in Berlin in the spring and summer of 2013. Recorded by Norman Nitzsche at Studio Line and (tracks 3, 5, and 8) with Daniel Nentwig at Butterama Studio. Mixed by Norman Nitzsche at MOKIK Studio.
Mastered by Bo Kondren at Calyx Mastering.
All songs written by Josepha Conrad.
Photography by Anja Conrad.
Design by Rimini Berlin, Franziska Morlok.

Josepha Conrad: vocals, classical guitar, and ukulele
Marko Hefele: violin and backup vocals
Tomi Simatupang: electric guitar, electric bass, and backup vocals
Noel Rademacher: percussion, and backup vocals
Matt Colbourn: trumpet
Alexander Paulick-Thiel: theremin
Ariel Sharratt: clarinet and vocals on "Monstera Deliciosa"
Mathias Kom: euphonium, wurlitzer, upright bass, and electric guitar on "The Ballad of Johnny"

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Susie Asado Berlin, Germany

Susie Asado lives in Berlin. That is the band, not the poem. The poem is by Gertrude Stein. Yes, there is such a poem. The band is not a poem. It is a band. Josepha writes the songs. She takes this very seriously, as she takes the band very seriously and of course the poem, that is Gertrude Stein very seriously. ... more

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