Controlling Ideas (feat. Gentle Ihors Devotion)
from Live At Cow Palace by six by seven
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Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album2x Jewel case CD's in clear case. Both Cds with 6 page full colour page booklet.
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Compact Disc (CD) + Digital AlbumJewel case CD in clear case with 6 page booklet, signed.
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Includes unlimited streaming of Live At Cow Palace via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.ships out within 2 daysedition of 100Purchasable with gift card£10 GBP or more
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CD 1& 2 + Demos CD + Magazine
Compact Disc (CD) + Digital AlbumBoth jewel Case Cd and A4 24 page Glossy magazine with CD.
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lyrics
She’d recently discovered colouring books as a form of relaxation. It wasn’t too demanding, unlike trying to learn an instrument, say, which she’d tried to do; that involved hours of repetition and often became frustrating. Colouring in gave her an immediate sense of achievement although, sometimes, she chose the wrong colours and a picture didn’t look right when it was finished.
She pulled out her latest colouring book dedicated to flower patterns and flicked through the pages of previously coloured illustrations until she arrived at the next design. It was an outline of orchids with twirling tendrils and ragged-edged leaves. The intense black lines crisply broke up the white paper into intricate shapes. She chose her first colour – a flaming scarlet and rested the tip of the crayon as close to the black line as she could. She was careful not to interfere with the blackness of the printed ink and stroked the paper with the crayon following the direction of the bounding line. Her mind went on a journey through verdant jungle filled with the sounds of insects, birds and howling monkeys.
Her phone beeped. She was annoyed with herself because she’d forgotten to turn it off before she started drawing - she didn’t like her concentration broken. She picked it up to turn it off but then thought, as she had it open she’d check the notification.
Her counselor had advised her to limit the time she spent on social media; she’d explained its stated intention is to get people addicted. It sells advertising so it needs as many eyeballs on the platform as possible. Twitter was especially bad as it got rid of nuanced argument to keep things simple. This quickly made people angry and tribal and addicted to arguing.
She’d seen it for herself – arguments always ending with Nazi comparisons being thrown around. Her account was now protected, even so, she frequently had to block responses. She tried to limit her time on social media but the providers were worse than the tobacco industry when it came to doing anything about the problem or even admitting their role in its spread.
She snorted as she recalled their double standards. At first, they were like, we’re not publishers so whatever someone posts is nothing to do with us. Then people started complaining about some of the content so the providers started acting like renegade policemen arresting accounts for violations of rules they arbitrarily came up with.
She suspected social media was grooming her; making her behave in a particular way that made it money.
She forced herself to switch off her phone.
She was agitated by the thought of social media though and when she tried to resume her colouring she found her hand trembling slightly. Some of her stokes couldn’t keep perfectly within the lines.
She gave up on the colouring and decided to drive to the city to do some shopping. She didn’t have anything in particular that she needed but she figured if she saw something she liked on a shelf or on a hanger she might feel better once she’d bought it.
But before she could go out the door, she had to think about her make-up: how attractive should she make herself look? All sorts of decisions had to be made: how important was the trip? Who might she meet in the city? How might that impact on her career if she did meet x, y or z? What would her girlfriends think of her if she didn’t make the effort?
Eventually she decided just mascara would be adequate.
On the main road into the city she debated the rule of always staying on the left-hand side of the carriageway. Most people never thought about it but since she’d become conscious of it she’d become fixated by the rule. She now had a regular impulse to swerve into oncoming traffic. At first this made her fearful to drive but she taught herself that she had the self-control to fight it.
After parking she walked into the shiny new shopping plaza with its bright lights, echoing clatter of muzak, footsteps and voices and she felt her heart rate leap. Her chest tightened and she immediately had a premonition of doom. She walked in slow motion before stopping near a marble bench. She sat down. Her mind and body started finding weird colours and scribbling them all over her lines of safety.
As she sat perfectly still, her breathing increased in frequency to match her heart rate. She felt hot and beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. She was terrified she was going to end up screaming at the top of her voice in this public space – a lost and lonely soul bewildered by the world.
She became dimly aware of a voice near her, a motherly voice. It was speaking to her: ‘Are you all right, love? Are you not feeling well?’
The voice belonged to someone with shoulder length grey hair who was dressed in clothes that were smart but several seasons out of fashion. The woman sat down next to her. ‘Do you need some help, darling? You’re having a panic attack, aren’t you. I’m going to help you. Hold on.’
The woman stood up and walked briskly towards a black security guard who became alert at the possibility of having something interesting to do. She spoke to him and he got on his walkie-talkie.
The woman sat down again. ‘It’s all right dear; you’re going to be okay. My daughter gets panic attacks, I know what to do.’ She took her hand and patted it. ‘Now, I want you to breathe with me, okay darling. I’ll match your rhythm and then I want you to follow my breathing, follow it as closely as you can. Here we go.’
Obediently she followed the instructions of the woman who never stopped talking to her in a gentle, calm voice. ‘You’re going to be okay, this will pass, it always does, don’t worry, you’re in safe hands now. We’re going to slow our breathing down.’
Gradually, a thought like a fully coloured-in picture entered her head : there’s kindness in the world.
Kindness was saving her today and she realized how much raw power basic human kindness has.
Maybe, she thought, it was strong enough that one day it could come together and change the world for good.
She pulled out her latest colouring book dedicated to flower patterns and flicked through the pages of previously coloured illustrations until she arrived at the next design. It was an outline of orchids with twirling tendrils and ragged-edged leaves. The intense black lines crisply broke up the white paper into intricate shapes. She chose her first colour – a flaming scarlet and rested the tip of the crayon as close to the black line as she could. She was careful not to interfere with the blackness of the printed ink and stroked the paper with the crayon following the direction of the bounding line. Her mind went on a journey through verdant jungle filled with the sounds of insects, birds and howling monkeys.
Her phone beeped. She was annoyed with herself because she’d forgotten to turn it off before she started drawing - she didn’t like her concentration broken. She picked it up to turn it off but then thought, as she had it open she’d check the notification.
Her counselor had advised her to limit the time she spent on social media; she’d explained its stated intention is to get people addicted. It sells advertising so it needs as many eyeballs on the platform as possible. Twitter was especially bad as it got rid of nuanced argument to keep things simple. This quickly made people angry and tribal and addicted to arguing.
She’d seen it for herself – arguments always ending with Nazi comparisons being thrown around. Her account was now protected, even so, she frequently had to block responses. She tried to limit her time on social media but the providers were worse than the tobacco industry when it came to doing anything about the problem or even admitting their role in its spread.
She snorted as she recalled their double standards. At first, they were like, we’re not publishers so whatever someone posts is nothing to do with us. Then people started complaining about some of the content so the providers started acting like renegade policemen arresting accounts for violations of rules they arbitrarily came up with.
She suspected social media was grooming her; making her behave in a particular way that made it money.
She forced herself to switch off her phone.
She was agitated by the thought of social media though and when she tried to resume her colouring she found her hand trembling slightly. Some of her stokes couldn’t keep perfectly within the lines.
She gave up on the colouring and decided to drive to the city to do some shopping. She didn’t have anything in particular that she needed but she figured if she saw something she liked on a shelf or on a hanger she might feel better once she’d bought it.
But before she could go out the door, she had to think about her make-up: how attractive should she make herself look? All sorts of decisions had to be made: how important was the trip? Who might she meet in the city? How might that impact on her career if she did meet x, y or z? What would her girlfriends think of her if she didn’t make the effort?
Eventually she decided just mascara would be adequate.
On the main road into the city she debated the rule of always staying on the left-hand side of the carriageway. Most people never thought about it but since she’d become conscious of it she’d become fixated by the rule. She now had a regular impulse to swerve into oncoming traffic. At first this made her fearful to drive but she taught herself that she had the self-control to fight it.
After parking she walked into the shiny new shopping plaza with its bright lights, echoing clatter of muzak, footsteps and voices and she felt her heart rate leap. Her chest tightened and she immediately had a premonition of doom. She walked in slow motion before stopping near a marble bench. She sat down. Her mind and body started finding weird colours and scribbling them all over her lines of safety.
As she sat perfectly still, her breathing increased in frequency to match her heart rate. She felt hot and beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. She was terrified she was going to end up screaming at the top of her voice in this public space – a lost and lonely soul bewildered by the world.
She became dimly aware of a voice near her, a motherly voice. It was speaking to her: ‘Are you all right, love? Are you not feeling well?’
The voice belonged to someone with shoulder length grey hair who was dressed in clothes that were smart but several seasons out of fashion. The woman sat down next to her. ‘Do you need some help, darling? You’re having a panic attack, aren’t you. I’m going to help you. Hold on.’
The woman stood up and walked briskly towards a black security guard who became alert at the possibility of having something interesting to do. She spoke to him and he got on his walkie-talkie.
The woman sat down again. ‘It’s all right dear; you’re going to be okay. My daughter gets panic attacks, I know what to do.’ She took her hand and patted it. ‘Now, I want you to breathe with me, okay darling. I’ll match your rhythm and then I want you to follow my breathing, follow it as closely as you can. Here we go.’
Obediently she followed the instructions of the woman who never stopped talking to her in a gentle, calm voice. ‘You’re going to be okay, this will pass, it always does, don’t worry, you’re in safe hands now. We’re going to slow our breathing down.’
Gradually, a thought like a fully coloured-in picture entered her head : there’s kindness in the world.
Kindness was saving her today and she realized how much raw power basic human kindness has.
Maybe, she thought, it was strong enough that one day it could come together and change the world for good.
credits
from Live At Cow Palace,
released January 14, 2022
license
all rights reserved
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about
six by seven Nottingham, UK
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discography
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Apr 2024 -
Mar 2024 -
Feb 2024 -
Feb 2024
contact / help
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