ooc: Yeah, the rhyming couples are all over the place, the tracking barely works and the structure is fucked, but I wanted to try some punk and write something akin to a musical rant, so it's intentional.
Jonny Delaney - Invisible
BackgroundJonny Delaney - born in 1984 - is a thirty year old underground punk artist hailing from Boston. Of Irish descent, the young Delaney had a harsh but "eye-opening" upbringing, with a dedicated and loving mother and drunk of a father. He dropped out of school at the age of 14 and moved to London in England after stealing and saving enough money to buy himself a plane ticket. Visiting his own personal cultural mecca, the youngster would seek out the heart and soul of punk, visiting places, members and important issues related to the punk movement that became vitally prominent in the English capital throughout the 1970s. Being a part of the only thing he had ever truly felt he belonged to, Delaney first rose to underground prominence in the promotion scene, putting on free punk rock shows at various squats, shitholes and dives across London and the south-east of England.
Eventually tiring of the capitalist shitstorm that was London, and fed up of fighting against the swell of mainstream music that simply engulfed anything in London, he would then take himself to Manchester in the north of the country, where Delaney formed punk band "Freddy", singing songs about taking down the system and fucking up the music industry. He claims that his first concert with Freddy was the first time he had ever picked up a guitar, which played perfectly into the anarchic style of music that Freddy tried to perpetuate. The band was to be short-lived, however, as Delaney was jailed in 2011 for three years for being part of a group guilty of vandalising tour buses at various Manchester music venues across a number of months, spray painting them with punk slogans and anti industry propaganda. Once released from jail (without parole, which he repeatedly refused to acknowledge) on the 14th January 2014, Delaney was deported back to the USA for his crimes with his permanent residency visa having been revoked for life.
Once back in the USA, Delaney decided to reinvent himself as an anarchist with a guitar. Still angry at the music industry, and citing punk as the only vessel for truth, he decided to try to form a band, but sacked them off within the space of a month, calling himself a "one-man crusade against the eternal tide of bullshit". In the months since, Delaney set about recording himself and his own brand of ranting noise punk. Interviewed briefly by a Boston punk blog, Delaney said that "music is not as much about enjoyment as it is about making a difference. But the corporate come buckets have lost all sight of the message. Now it's all business stuffed into our ears. Fuck 'em."
TrackInvisible by Jonny Delaney is not a pleasant song to listen to, and nor is it particularly meant to be. From start to end, the musicianship and production is amateur at best, and the vocals are growly, gravelly and angry - unrelentingly so. The song is a commentary on the state of play in the music industry today as seen through the eyes of Jonny Delaney, as he takes a stab at the pop market over and over. Jonny turns his hatred towards pop stars, manufactured artists, the press, producers, labels and everyone who operates behind the scenes. The main target of his anger, however, is the people who consume music themselves. The self-confirmed sociopath asks why he is invisible, a question posed in part in reaction to his own belief that he is the only one out there speaking truths and carrying a message in his music - the only one daring to step away from the crowd and do something different. The verses throughout are long, meandering and clumsy musically, but poetically carry something of a strange charm. Lyrically, although lost in the rant at times, Delaney is actually intentionally clever, layering his song with innuendo and metaphors amid his wave after wave of pure anger.
"It's not a song, it's a truth. This isn't about putting something out there that people will listen to and say "I like this". Is it fuck. This is about producing words and lines that someone will hear and connect with on a real level. It's about saying fuck you and putting a message across that means something. Ooh baby and singing a hundred thousand fucking times about lost love while prancing around a stage with forty baby oil lathered other prancing cunts is not about music either, though. It's about a shot at fame for the puppet with the microphone, and money for everyone both literally and metaphorically behind them. But I'm saying this....why do people connect with that generic shit and just ignore people like me who have a real message? And I'm telling the artists the truth too. What the fuck happens when your master of puppets pulls his hand out his arse and you're nothing more than a limp shell of fame, fucked til you're red raw and screwed until you're earning potential is completely empty? Just think about it. That's all I'm ever saying in anything I ever do. Just think about it."
Track Invisible
Artist Jonny Delaney
Genre Punk
Length 2:44
Label N/A
Produced by Jonny Delaney
Personnel Guitars, drums, vocals, bass - Jonny DelaneyLet's fight
I'll take a skin full
Right to the brim I'm fucked
Walk and talk get in a ruck
And let's write
Another same old song
Reminiscence in the air
Spraw and fall into their lair
Will you stay in this mould forever
When the world takes shape
You'll be another sad endeavour
So just stay flat
Never dreamed in a new dimension
Yet I'm the one shackled to the floor
And you're on a road to ascension
Your eyes are open, I see
But you look right through everything
That's not in your scene
Your blinds are pulled down
I'd call you on your shit
But I fear your global condition
Would mean you never ever hear it!
Why am I so fucking invisible
When your whole scene's fucked with clones
Is it me, or are you all divisible?
Cut you into pieces and there'd just be more drones
Is this what hell feels like
Or is it just my own eternity
Stuck in your blind spot
Anonymity's a certaintyDon't let them fool you!
Your career is just a passing sensation
Let my silence ring true
You're on the scrapheap at the end of gestation
Of a new fame hoarder
Another fucking bint simply built to order
Stand still, shut your mouth
Dance, fucker, dance
Watch the green poison roll in
As you strut around and prance
Smile for the cam'ra boys
Another new age of flash
Sold out like fuck toys
In the sock drawers of the brash
Get your knees clean, cunt
And wipe the splat from your face
Time for another press stunt
Until the next one's in your place
And another thing, time to paint by numbers
Everything's a failure til it tops the charts
Number 2 is fraught with blunders
Hey, where's the chorus, here it comes
Nah fuck you, fuck your rules
No more living life like we're still in schools
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck!(pause and spoken words - "Now have your fucking chorus".)
Why am I so fucking invisible
When your whole scene's fucked with clones
Is it me, or are you all divisible?
Cut you into pieces and there'd just be more drones
Is this what hell feels like
Or is it just my own eternity
Stuck in your blind spot
Anonymity's a certaintyForgive me, did I speak out of turn?
I doubt you'll even pay attention
I'd burn you all and piss in your urn
If it would break this sick convention
So where's the fun in fitting in?
Did your mommy bring you up to be the same
To spread your legs, anything for fame
Start the stopwatch counting
Your 15 minutes are draining
From the moment you're first mounting
Cock, you're at the peak and weaning
What will you do when the milk's dry?
When they pull the magic carpet out
And force you to try to fly
Flap your little wings, you're done
Icarus, you feeble cunt
Man was never meant to be so high
So keep your fashion
Ignore passion
And turn your back to individuality
In your world
There's no time to be yourself
An existence without reality
How does it feel to sit on that conveyor
What must you think when you consist of just one layer
If I cut you open, do you bleed
Or have you stopped all function
Tied to a stake, kept on a lead
And steered through every junction
Why am I so fucking invisible
When your whole scene's fucked with clones
Is it me, or are you all divisible?
Cut you into pieces and there'd just be more drones
Is this what hell feels like
Or is it just my own eternity
Stuck in your blind spot
Anonymity's a certaintySounds like:
