Listen of the Week: Poliça

United Crushers, by Poliça

On this third record, however, they seem to have struck out into squarer, more mature territory, which – confusingly – sounds quite exciting. The squareness is relative: the band still operate in the zeitgeisty area of trip hop-informed pop. But compared to the current glut of mannered, coming of age-themed electronica, this feels far more substantial. It’s warmer, more expansive and uptempo – a slightly weird knitted jumper of an album.

http://www.theguardian.com/music/2016/mar/03/polica-united-crushers-review-excitingly-upbeat-electronica

Listen of the Week: Poliça

Friday Lyrics Mash: Talk Dirty To Me To Dirty Talk

Talk dirty to me (yeah yeah)

Down in the basement
Our conversations ain’t long
When you talk dirty to me
You know I call you, I call you on the telephone
Talk dirty to me
You know I never, I’ve never seen you look so good
Get jazzy on it
And I know you cannot wait

In the old man’s Ford
The way that I want you
Talk dirty to me (oh yeah)
You never act the way you should

All I really need to understand is
                                                                 No habla inglés

All I really need to understand is
Behind them, bushes
But your booty don’t need explaining

Talk dirty to me (you you you)
But I like it
Oh yes I do
Behind the bushes
At the drive in

Cause baby we’ll be
Chest to chest, tongue on neck
Talk dirty to me!
Talk dirty to me
                                                                 What? I don’t understand!
And baby
And lock the cellar door
London to Taiwan
Just to see you
Til I’m screamin’ for more, more, more!
You know the words to my songs
Whoo! Whoo! Whoo! Whoo!

But your booty don’t need explaining
Get jazzy on it
Been around the world, don’t speak the language
I’ve gotta have you
Bought a jet, what do you expect?
Talk dirty to me (talk to me)

And baby
I’ve got to touch you
At the drive in
Talk dirty to me!
Tres, we can ménage à three though
All I really need to understand is
You make it hard to leave

Got her saved in my phone under “Big Booty”
Every picture I take, I pose a threat
I’m that flight that you get on, international
‘Cause I know what the girl them need
I’ve gotta hear you
I got lipstick stamps on my passport
In the old man’s Ford
Get jazzy on it
Wait to see me too
At the drive in

                                                                 Uh!
Behind the bushes
Ooh, yeah

Cause baby we’ll be
First class seat on my lap girl, riding comfortable
When you talk dirty to me
And whisper so softly
And baby, talk dirty to me, yeah
Lock the cellar door

And baby
I think I need a new one
So I can hear you
New York to Haiti
But you know what is
Down in the basement
Lock the cellar door
And baby, talk dirty to me yeah

Anyway, every day I’m trying to get to it
Whoo!
That’s the way I like it, baby
In the old man’s Ford
You know that I can hardly wait
Talk dirty to me

I’m only hopin’ that you’re home
International oral sex
Talk dirty to me
Talk dirty to me

I know what the girl them want,
When you say those words to me
Til I’m screamin’ for more
I never, I never ever stay out late
Talk dirty to me
Anyway, every day I’m trying to get to it
Til I’m screamin’ for more
And I know you like it too
Talk dirty to me
Been around the world, don’t speak the language

Been around the world, don’t speak the language
I got lipstick stamps on my passport
Down in the basement
When you talk dirty to me

Friday Lyrics Mash: Talk Dirty To Me To Dirty Talk

Six Months in the Studio (aka Six Months of Sonnets…About Your Mom) | CHARLOTTE STREET FOUNDATION STUDIO RESIDENCY PROGRAM

Time continues to pass so quickly I still get butterflies in my belly. Best not to dwell on it. Best to listen to Hank Williams while watching the sun rise over Kansas City. But, damn it, we’…

Source: Six Months in the Studio (aka Six Months of Sonnets…About Your Mom) | CHARLOTTE STREET FOUNDATION STUDIO RESIDENCY PROGRAM

Six Months in the Studio (aka Six Months of Sonnets…About Your Mom) | CHARLOTTE STREET FOUNDATION STUDIO RESIDENCY PROGRAM

And the Gang

Zack Sang, I wanna wear your skin
Zack Sang, oh won’t you let me in
Zack Sang, don’t ya tell me no
Zack Sang, you’re on my radio-o-o

Late night, I hear your grating voice
Damn right, what I listen to’s my choice
But Zack Sang, I wanna make a man-suit outta you-oo-oo

Hoo-hoo

So Zack Sang, let me wear your skin
Oh, Zack Sang, now the bleedin’ begins
Zack Sang, you’re my only one
Zack Sang, don’t it sound like fuh-uh-un

At night, driving around town
Ain’t right, the goofy way you sound

Oh, Zack Sang, I’m gonna wear the hell outta you-oo-oo

Hoo-hoo

Yeah Zack Sang, I’m gonna wear the hell outta you
Oo oo oo

Zack Sang
Gonna wear-air you
Zack Sang
Oo oo oo
Zack Sang
Oo oo oo
Yeah, Zack Sang
Zack Sang Zack Sang Zack Sang

And the Gang

EIO @ Paragraph and Proenca Recap | CHARLOTTE STREET FOUNDATION STUDIO RESIDENCY PROGRAM

2016 has been looking like a great year for performances, thus far.  On February 20th, one of my bands, the Proenca Ensemble, premiered a brand new composition titled Proenca by composer and author…

Source: EIO @ Paragraph and Proenca Recap | CHARLOTTE STREET FOUNDATION STUDIO RESIDENCY PROGRAM

EIO @ Paragraph and Proenca Recap | CHARLOTTE STREET FOUNDATION STUDIO RESIDENCY PROGRAM