You'd Rather Do Acid than Go to Florida

by Beattie Bergstrom

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about

Written, performed, engineered, and produced by Beattie Bergstrom. Stem mixes were finessed by the incomparable Mr. Brent Washburn. The songs were sent to 2” tape by Jason Jaknunas, then mastered by Mike Bond.

credits

released June 27, 2017

River Doucette, Dave Kastner, Andrea Palmieri, James Reid, Marisa Robazza, Rebecca Lantz and patrons of her singing-bowl potlucks, as well as Alexandre Wickham appear on the album in direct and/or sampled arrangement.

The artwork is childhood photos of Andrea Palmieri and Beattie Bergstrom.

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Beattie Bergstrom Ottawa, Ontario

Beattie Bergstrom is a restless space cadet. He is a chemical imprint that is pleased to leave its mark.

contact / help

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Track Name: XX
Sharpest teeth nor blackest eyes
could be felt in the skin of my neck
but the deepest sprawl of your found affection
leaves kinder words on the back of my throat

A reminder of days
when drive was pretty
and dissonance
was easy brotherhood

Your simple movements always telling—you end I—
that family wasn’t bloodline
but our brand of bloody noise

It’s fallible love for that which you sow,
faithless martyrs for x’s and o’s
We’re censured for heart and rightfully so
If there’s a vision, we don’t know

A reminder of days
when drive was pretty
[…] or the notes that we share
as we clash on the keys

Little more than a rodent’s will
or the rhythms flat on different ears

The merit’s grey to different eyes
for rodent’s will and rodent’s lies

And X and X
and sXe
And it hurts to say
but I guess
it’s just tough to see
with this hardline precept defining me

Vermin’s crawl
Vermin’s kill
Little more than a rodent’s will
Track Name: A View for Moses
A sigh for all is a war forever
Take a half-heart breath to ease the pressure
Needless shrug-off something better yet,
deader set on your human languor
But we just won’t call, and we…
We just won’t call, and we, ennui
We live to see our screenshot light on diffidence
Leftist betterment for all: Look how we crawl

So peel back my skin
until my nerves catch the breeze
This stale fabric in the most befitting fashion
It’s a laughable hold
on my sickening stomach where gluttony grows
but never—
It never takes the blow
(or the pain)

Isn’t it funny how
we slam satiety
but keep our comfort speared on dirty forks
Well, I’m…
Fuck, we’re all content to make believe that our place to be is determined by
the social conduct we employ
and promote feeling but never actually enjoy

[…]
What keeps me sane

Peel back my skin:
Won’t be the right call
Peel back what’s real:
We won’t exist without proof
Peel back that old
rapacity grind
Shortcuts to feel
sort of real but not alive

Please make me real
Please hate me
Please make
Please
Sing something true and free
Won’t you please make
Track Name: Taxidermy Frogs
Bow down your figure on a new thrill
Your taxidermy frogs on a mantle filled
with books and birds
What’s in it of you?
You’re falling around the bedframe crutch
with weed to clutch for the booze bled through

Like Casper’s ghost could validate the fact that you’re totally alone
Like Casanova’s life could mask the shadow of your own

You’re pushing a new threat
You’re pushing the night down to my bone
Aren’t you scared
you’ll ever call it home?

[…] Dreams of great flight
to paint your weeping wall across the sky
But with those clipped wings
you’ll never get that high
Track Name: Wicked Roots
Newborn shift
Crevasse born high
Little hands guide the mountains
on which they stand
Little eyes wide to match the way we
glide on silly words
to love all pure and wrong

Fucked oblong
Rhetoric was spent on
faking love
The worst in
our parents to speak of

There’s no-one to right-align
A wet nurse:
Much to confined to extend kisses
to the one with its face all wrong

Something’s wrong with her eyes
and something’s wrong with the way she holds your look

But mind your daughter
She can’t seem to walk along with the pace we’re mouthing order
Seems like her crawl’s in bad taste
Never hearing what you say
Never hearing what you say

Teething kids
in their cribs

Mother,
where is me?
Track Name: Idiot Savant/Stairwell
All I understand is knowing nothing, really
In the sentient’s hall
knowing starts to seem
useless to lurch for
strokes we might grasp;
sipping steeped cups with the sick of our last thrill

And neglecting to feel when the going’s easy
Idiot savant sees his knowledge fleeting
and the words he expends

Castrate in meaning,
botched in his throat
Egregious, he sheds
authority for heart

[…] sipping steeped cups with the sick of our last will

Savant, you’re bleeding
all your wrong
Savant, you’re needing
passion all in all

_____________

All bent up like my broken neck
All bent up like the things I say

Old woods
marry the words
and progress in letters like you said that you would
Old dirt
marry the woods
and backtrack to learning what things that you could
Track Name: Bastard
Outran that fascist by a milestone
Broke down at the waterfront and called it home
Spent life a gypsy playing home to whores
Artist’s an alibi but I don’t care

Growing
Growing out
Growing further from the sun
Growing roots ‘cept light’s at bay

Be my guest
and talk your horrors down my throat
but it’s my guess
that you haven’t slept silent in weeks
You’ll sing the bastard’s creed
You’ll plant the seed then leave

Detailed the ramblings of a teenage bore
Blew up my feelings so I might reach your core
Blew up my feelings so I could reach your core
Sang about my problems, now I need more