Damian Cowell's Disco Machine, Pt. 3 Lyrics

What the fuck?
Awwww, what the fuck?
What the fuck?
Awwww, what the fuck?
What the fuck?
Awwww, what the fuck?
What the fuck?
Awwww, what the fuck?
I like to pretend I'm some kind of producer, but I'm no innovator.
When I drop a track, I'm more like a clumsy waiter.

I spend hours on end fiddling with audio minutiae,
Yet through sheer misuse, this goose lays a golden egg later.
One night I was working so long,
I somehow flipped a switch that was somehow wrong,
And then I, you know, dropped... the mix.
I uploaded five minutes of absolutely nothing!
Total silence!
But then I thought, why not leave it up there just for kicks?
I called it "Damian Cowell's Disco Machine",
A post-post-post-post-post-post-modernist critique.
Or at least that's what I said
When sometime later they interviewed me for Future Music Magazine
But really it was the first thing that came into my head
I called it
Damian Cowell's (Disco Machine)
Damian Cowell's (Disco Machine)
Damian Cowell's (Disco Machine)
Damian Cowell's (Disco Machine)
What the fuck?
Awwww, what the fuck?
What the fuck?
Awwww, what the fuck?
Months pass, no-one gave an arse, least of all me.
My bullshit lining stayed up there in the cloud.
Then suddenly, hits on me rise exponentially,
And I get messaged by somene in Chiaroscuro's crowd.
Chiaroscuro, world's hottest DJ no less!
Chiaroscuro, every remix wishlist's top name!
Chiaroscuro played my silent track at Modern Unconsciousness.
She said "Music as we know it will never be the same!"
It was called
Damian Cowell's (Disco Machine)
Damian Cowell's (Disco Machine)
Damian Cowell's (Disco Machine)
Damian Cowell's (Disco Machine)
What the fuck?
Awwww, what the fuck?
What the fuck?
Awwww, what the fuck?
My arrival went viral, the 'zine sensed the scene.
They called it "no-step".
And soon, competing DJs
Were taunting their rivals to be more extreme.
A track by Shandy Warhol called "Empire State Buildup" went for one entire day.
And Chiaroscuro was the lightning conductor,
Her invisible ink tattoos glowing vivid hues only when the lights turned red.
I was Chiaroscuro's curio, her one hit wonder.
I was fated. And my sneakers migrated under her bed.
There was a school of thought amongst certain DJs
That when you're listening to silence, vinyl is the only true way.
Some build huge systems to enhance the aural abyss.
There were 451 sub-genres of retro cassette hiss.
Some kids danced to their internal groove.
Some kids stayed rigid, didn't want to be the first to move.
Isolation tanks became the accessory du jour.
Around the world, you could hear a pin drop, on the dance floor.
When it hit Kuta and Ibiza, Chiaroscuro said it was beneath her.
You know it's over when you hear it on a bank ad.
She stopped taking my calls,
And hitched stable with some turntable prodigy from Nepal.
I was just a passing fad.
No-step turned ironic, I was sued by John Cage's estate.
Now I just stay home alone, me and all my "friends".
But that's okay, I've got time, I can wait.
In three years, you know what will be hip again?
Damian Cowell's (Disco Machine)
Damian Cowell's (Disco Machine)
Damian Cowell's (Disco Machine)
Damian Cowell's (Disco Machine)
Dropped, like a bodybag with a sneaky air pocket, (Disco Machine)
I might turn up when you least expect. (Disco Machine)
Dropped, like a summons in your letterbox. (Disco Machine)
Dropped; Chiaroscuro? Sorry, have we met?