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Personal Hotspot

by FERLA

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1.
Violence 03:11
Can’t see the forest for the trees Can’t see the dead for all the disease and there is nothing to do but lie down and cry and I just want to be held — ooh Violence Violence is coming. Violence. Gonna swing that hammer down on you and I don’t know what to do. Can’t see the rot for all the flies and you can’t see the fire for the smoke in your eyes Can’t see the mosts for all the leasts Can’t see abuse for all of the priests Can’t see the pikes for all the heads And you can’t make an omelette without cracking some eggs Can’t see the fight for all the fists and you can’t see the neck for all of the twists Can’t see the brow for all of the creases and I can’t read the news without falling to pieces Cos it’s just more of the same — uh-oh! Violence. Violence is coming. Violence. Gonna swing that hammer down on you and I don’t know what to do. Then there’s a knock at the door — uh-oh! Violence. Violence is coming for you. Violence. Violence with a capital V. It’s a cut-throat catastrophe!
2.
Rita 03:12
Just a little bit in love that’s about all I can handle I’m not holding a torch I’m just holding a candle 
And it’s true I believe in you With your head on my chest and my hand around your breast Oh Rita! Just a little bit in love that’s about all I can manage cos I’m looking for a lover whose goods are just as damaged It’s a victory You’re right next to me And the shadows of my life are moving toward your light Toward Rita! And you told me to say your name right before I came Oh Rita! Just a little bit in love cos Cupid’s an archer and your name is on my eyelids written in permanent marker Just a little bit in love and I’m trying to hold it in but I’m counting down the hours til we’re lying naked in bed again Cos it’s true I’m right next to you I don’t have to fight That all the cliches were right Oh Rita! Nothing beats ya! I celebrate at last with champagne in a glass
3.
I See You 03:36
I am plastic floating in the sea I am the death in custody I am the clap that brought you to your knees The humming of a million wires I see you I see you If you’re gonna get upset over nothing I’ll give you something to cry about I am the cock, the soul, the internet I am good fortune for the fortunate I am the religion of the dollar Medula Oblongata I am the size of all that’s wrong I’m full of confidence and cum The breaking down of all the bonds The votes are in and look who won I am the mouth of prejudice In the pulpit of indifference I am the downward spiral I am hatred going viral I am the jawbone of indifference I am the leftovers of innocence I am the cruelty that comes naturally Like taking candy from a baby I am the criminal who wrote the law I am condescension to the poor I am transgenerational trauma And Russians sweating in a sauna I see you I see you If you’re gonna get upset over nothing I’ll give you something to cry about
4.
Took a gun shot the air made a hole in the world out of it crawled a man wet as night singular with a voice dry as leaves told you so idiot “nothing else nothing else nothing else matters” and the sound in your ear inserted like a knife scrapes your conscience crystal clear what a rush tell your friends that nothing else nothing else nothing else matters took a gun shot the world made a widow of the air and her tears like a knife cut wet with the cream of life and at the crest of my soul a foaming hole of rock’n’roll and nothing else nothing else nothing else matters
5.
I’m pulling the weeds. Life is ugly, ruthless; beautiful, generous; unconquerable, unrelenting; and we never stood a chance. I’m pulling the weeds, sniffing the air like an animal, hiding like a coward in the long grass. I am in a state of becoming. I’m pulling the weeds and thinking about career trajectories. My hip flexor is out of whack, I got six stitches and a fungal infection, over the hill and completely underwhelming. I’m pulling the weeds while in the deepest part of the ocean a claw tightens its grip and pinches a life off at the neck; while in a safeway carpark a plastic bag pushed by the wind whispers something unspeakable. I’m pulling the weeds and the future’s too dark to see but Love is still a triumph and that’s the face of God, more or less.
6.
And I want what I want and I want nothing else but it was only the beginning and I watch all the light in the world coalesce cos it was only the beginning And if you’re thinking that you got nothing left to give and all the hands reach out for more “what do you want what do you want what do you want?” well it was only the beginning I wanted to give it up you know I’ll never be enough I wanted to give it up start again And I want what I want and I want nothing else And it took what it took and it took all I had but it was only the beginning I wanted to give it up you know I’ll never be enough I wanted to give it up start again
7.
Revenge porn and animal cruelty the cruelty of animals has me reeling What’s the algorithm for indifference? Slacktivism and a lack of persistence? And if the world is endless potential then we got a total lack of control And I had hope for a little while and it was easy to imagine but the future’s too dark to see Attenborough taught me bout the cordycep …ruthless But I guess Life will always find a way, hey? and we never stood a chance And I had hope for a little while and it was easy to imagine but the future’s too dark to see Cos all through history how many people did my people have to kill just so I could netflix and chill? Is this some kind of joke? I don’t wanna know. And I had hope for a little while and it was easy to imagine but the future’s too dark to see And I am praying for a universe full of light and compassion but the future’s too dark to see And maybe an AI brain will load a soul into the mainframe but the future’s too dark to see
8.
It’s not enough, I’m not enough, and I will never be enough I was purposeless, waiting in line at the express with ten items or less. Am I at a loss? Am I a loser? Have I got fewer or have I got none? I mumbled a prayer at the checkout before I cut it and run. I am not bitter, cos I don’t even care. Why should I care? I’m a seafood extender. I’m at the edge of an existential bender. I don’t know who I am. The Uber driver told me that hope is not a strategy, well neither is apathy so I didn’t leave a tip. Then I fell through a hole in the air where all I could hear were the superfluities of my wordless insecurities and the squeaking of blood in my ears whispering ‘but what if but what if but what if but what if but what if but what if but’ and panic feels like a snake coiled in your gut and I hold onto hope for the day when all my thoughts run clear like water from a tap running clear running clear running clear running clear running clear running clear
9.
This is a musical object. After recording It’s Personal I stopped wanting to write personally. I’d plumbed the depths of my emotional world and I’d had enough. And just like the friend who’s always complaining about something, I was bored shitless of myself. I wanted a new approach to making music that didn’t include the expression of internal turmoil. I was all turmoiled out. I stopped listening to pop. It was too emotional. I wanted ambience. Kate and Tom bought me the music for Erik Satie’s Gymnopedies and Gnossiennes. I got a lot out of these. It made music an object, something that could be done because it sounded nice and filled a space, like a nice coffee table or a lamp or a pair of pants. This object is the musical equivalent of a nice pair of pants. Made to measure.

about

Personal Hotspot is a fever dream. It’s getting hot. Everyone’s sweating under their collars, temperatures are getting taken, tempers are boiling over. Neurons misfire while the mainframe overheats. Babes are falling in love while billionaires lunch in low-earth orbit. The ice caps are melting, baby.

It’s a mess. I’m trying to find a message.

In a world where there’s so much noise — and not just social-media blathering, I mean important noise, noise about global warming, global death, global catastrophe — here I am asking you to make time to listen to my noise. Am I some kind of megalomaniac? I probably could be. But for the belief.

But for the belief that this is also important noise. But for the belief that music has the ability to save our souls. But for the belief that art is the vessel through which collective anxiety, sadness, joy or suffering can be articulated and expressed. But for awareness of ourselves and others, and our journey of becoming selves for others. There’s so much noise around already but I’m asking you to listen. Listen. If not to this music then to other music. Or art. And then share it. Because we are in this together, and the things that unite us as human beings are greater than the things that divide us.

If you can’t stand the heat, just turn the heat down a little.

credits

released March 3, 2022

FERLA are
Giuliano Ferla
Steve Gavan
Kate Monger
Nigel Moyes

all songs written by Giuliano Ferla and FERLA (@gferla)
recorded at Head Gap Recording Studio, Preston
produced by Giuliano Ferla, Rohan Sforcina and FERLA
mixed and engineered by Rohan Sforcina
mastered by Joe Carra at Crystal Mastering

design by Steve Gavan (@steve_gavan)
photography by Ted Min (@tedminted)
makeup by Brigit Ryan (@brigitryan)

special thanks to: our manager and friend Alyse Newman; our partners Simone Griggs, Sara Hayat, Tom Pitts and Esther Semo; Hana and Rita; Giuseppina Ferla and Joan Stenning; Rattus, Polly, Ruth and Gertie; Creative Victoria; all our parents and comrades and friends, past-present-future; eggplant parmigiana.

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FERLA Melbourne, Australia

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