Chonny Jash - Poor Artists (Official Music Video) скачать в хорошем качестве

Chonny Jash - Poor Artists (Official Music Video)

Cover Photo/Thumbnail photographed by Mia Troy Song Title inspired by book of the same name, written by Gabrielle de la Puente and Zarina Muhammad (aka The White Pube): https://thewhitepube.co.uk/book/ (Note: this isn't sponsored in any way, nor do I have any affiliation or contact with the authors. It's just a really good book) Directed by Finn Baptie, Mia Troy and Chonny Jash I've been thinking a lot about my circumstances recently, in no small part thanks to the book linked above, and while I've known it for a while, I've been able to truly process that I may be the single luckiest artist I'll ever meet, at least for the time being. Being able to make my art, however I want to make it, with no compromises or asterisks - and have it pay my damn bills - is insanity. Following that, I realized I haven't made anything purely for the sake of making in a while. I love my thematic bs, my concept albums, my big projects etc., but it's been a good while since I just sat down and wrote a song. For fun. So I did that! And apparently what I felt like making was a vaguely anti-industry-with-a-tinge-of-optimism half-jazz-half-indie-rock song... Hell, I even played and recorded everything legit this time! DEATH TO THE VST!!! (no please though i love my fake orchestras and complex synths pls don't die) Then, while I was back down in Victoria to see some friends and family, I thought it'd be even more fun to spend a day in the city with a couple of mates and a camera, and go around town with no real purpose other than "take some cool photos and videos." Combine that with some shots I got on my own at home, a few unseen clips from old projects, and some time in the editing bay coming up with some typography stuff, and you've got a Music Video on your hands baybee! And that's all this is! It's not high art by any means, but it IS art, and that's good enough for me. Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/2hvnt... SoundCloud:   / chonny-jash   Bandcamp: https://chonnyjash.bandcamp.com/ ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- LYRICS: Imprisoned in the cafe, or busking in the alleyway. (The machine needs oil, but blood will do just fine.) Eyes too tired to keep awake, fingers cut too fierce to pray. (I’ll make sure they take yours so that they might not take mine.) Rinse, repeat and bow down, until hope washes clean off skin. (It’s nothing personal – But then, that’s such a shame.) Play the role you’re given and roll the dice they weighted again. (We’re all NPCs in some businessman’s game.) We fight. We try. We strive to reach greater heights. We yearn to be actualised. And instead, we roll on and on and on and on, till the sun dies. Until we finally find someone, somewhere, somehow seeing our eyes’ lost light. And we hear them say: “Say cheese. Wash feet. And when they kick, grit your teeth. Besides, you look so good in red and the audience loves you half dead. They’re the prey. You’re the bait. So, lie down and wait. Seduce the working class and pull their gaze away. The wolves have outsourced the chase, and you’ll do well to remember your - stop crying, there’s a time and a - Hell is more kind of a place.” Look beyond the hand that feeds; magic tricks are quick to deceive. (The machine’s all fucked. There’s this bright sludge in the ducts.) They show that which you think you need – what else don’t they want you to see? (The cogs are turning slow. The cattle’s causing a fuss.) Riot! Rage! Dye brushes red. Paint bullet holes across their chests. (They’ve all been diseased with this thing we don’t know.) Restore that which you thought had left. Bring to life the inspired dead. (Their souls have been retrieved. They say they’re calling it ‘hope.’) It’s true. It’s known. They loathe to see humans being. The artist can not be free - so what does that make me? They commoditised ecstasy, and contentedness costs extra fees, and soon, they’ll come after me, but I will not give up my next beat. I’ll writhe. I’ll scream. And when I’m done, I’ll bare my teeth. Your rules will not keep me down, for to truly smile, you must first master the frown. I’ll write. I’ll sing. It’s a fickle thing, but I’ll draw my own damn lines and sit humbly between. I’d rather be skint and free, than well off with a gun at my cheek.