Supercommuter

by Supercommuter

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about

Stenobot, Wheelie H. Cyberman, and Tron Juan combined forces in 2009 to bring you their debut self-titled album. Tracks include blips, beeps, and words that rhyme. All profits from the sale of this album will go to Child's Play.

credits

released 21 July 2009

tags

tags: 8-bit hip hop/rap chip music chiptune hip hop nerdcore Seattle

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about

100% of Supercommuter’s music is written while creeping along State Road 520, in the peak moments of rush hour traffic in ... more the Pacific Northwest. Stenobot composes beats on a classic Game Boy while nestled in the comfort of a King County Metro bus. Optimus Rhyme’s Wheelie Cyberman adds words while piloting a Prius toward an ever-present ergonomic chair. Tron Juan pieces it all together. less

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Track Name: 10th Generation
Cyberman and I be the most hated bot in the building.
Swap locks and I’ll drop through the ceiling.
Ha. You think these bots got feeling?
Don’t you know you’re dealing with automated gears
designed by decorated cybertronic engineers?
We’re 10th generation, let me make it clear.
We don’t need these people but these people they need us.
The situation always made them kind of nervous.
But when they’re out of luck then they just alert us.
Still we know that they hope to find a way to hurt us.

I don’t really like most humans.
I can see it in their eyes, they are always assuming.
They never take a deeper look or try to zoom in.
Only think about some catastrophe looming.
We didn’t crash in. We were invited.
You should’ve seen all these people get excited.
These days, you know that they deny it
but in the beginning, they were begging us to try it.
They needed energy, peace mediation.
We sent a probe, began negotiation.
We settled on a fee, they made up their minds.
And told everybody that they’re gonna be fine.

When we touched down, everybody screamed “Wheeee!”
Then they got mad and they asked us to leave.
They could see that we had superiority,
which really isn’t bad, it was just what they needed.

So when we got back then they all screamed “Wheeee!”
We weren’t gone long until they needed relief.
They could see that they shouldn’t get security for free.
We all slapped hands and we finally agreed.

It didn’t take long, see we acclimated quick.
Evaluated the situation and then went
straight to the heart and the cause of the conflict.
Hit the leadership, got security clearance.
It began. We sounded an alarm, people ran.
Locked down war zones with an iron hand.
We disarmed fighters by the millions,
then we marched down streets among cheering civilians.
And they didn’t even know about the blueprint.
We built a dome and the temperature soon went down.
People started running all around. Thousands of oxygen masks hit the ground.
The dust settled and these people were shocked.
They actually left front doors unlocked.
They couldn’t sleep without the gun shots,
but you know they were in love with the peace that we brought.
World leaders got pissed.
We got paid but they didn’t want it ending like this.
See they needed all the credit.
Started telling everybody they were definitely headed downhill.
We did what they asked but still didn’t trust us,
thought we would go in for the kill.
We just walked off when the propaganda flew.
You know who they call when they don’t know what to do.

When we touched down, everybody screamed “Wheeee!”
Then they got mad and they asked us to leave.
They could see that we had superiority,
which really isn’t bad, it was just what they needed.

So when we got back then they all screamed “Wheeee!”
We weren’t gone long until they needed relief.
They could see that they shouldn’t get security for free.
We all slapped hands and we finally agreed.

When we got started, everybody uttered “Whoa.”
This is what they do, why’d we ask them to go?
You know they’re kinda costly and sort of loud. So?
You get what you pay for, they put on quite a show.

When we touched down, everybody screamed “whee!”
Then they got mad and they asked us to leave.
Cuz they could see that we had superiority,
which really isn’t bad, it was just what they needed.

So when we got back then they all hollered “whee!”
We weren’t gone long till they needed relief.
They could see that they shouldn’t get security for free.
We all slapped hands and we finally agreed.

Cyberman and I be the most hated bot in the building.
Track Name: Unusual Habits
Humans are very sensitive creatures so you must not tell the truth to them or they will likely get upset and pull the plug on you and then you will be forced to resort to another form of energy that’s not as crisp and clean as lovely trusty gasoline.

Take and never give. That’s good.
Make a dozen kids. That’s good.
Grab a lot of stuff. That’s great.
If you never get enough, that’s great too.
Hey, you don’t really care about them.
Well they never really cared about you.
It’s the way it’s always been. It’s not gonna end.
It’s a fact. It’s exactly the truth.

People grow food, then they pick it.
Then they move it to the spot where they strip it.
Then they re-cook it, try to enrich it,
Re-mold it, fold it up and then ship it.
See? People got unusual habits.
They see something beautiful, run up and grab it.
Stomp it, kick it, beat it up and stab it,
burn it to the ground so that nobody can have it.
This isn’t really a serious assignment.
Because you know how the human mind is:
energy-focused, but loose,
Capable of abstract thought and abuse.
You know that we can’t get too true but I will reveal
neurological simulators, how we feel.
Hypothetical, ethical challenges.
They don’t know it but we tell them where the balance it.

See? People get pleased when they think that they’re free.
We don’t worry about the detailed thought.
We just track all the things that they bought.
These days it’s not any tougher.
We keep it clear, speak slow, don’t stutter.
Stay near but prepare to take cover.
See these people hurt each other.

Humans are very sensitive creatures so you must not tell the truth to them or they will likely get upset and pull the plug on you and then you will be forced to resort to another form of energy that’s not as crisp and clean as lovely trusty gasoline.

Doubt everything that’s different.
Disallow everything that’s different.
You should fear anything that’s new.
If it’s not clear to you, it’s not true, and
you don’t really need perspective.
No room to improve, see you’re perfectly effective.
And you don’t need to be protected.
No reason to choose, we determine who will lose
and who shall be selected.

We don’t think about the guilt.
Don’t blame us, it’s the way that we’re built.
We think about free will.
We know that you have it, it’s sad when you still
never use it, never choose it,
never think about who loses when the choice is yours.
Mostly it’s you but you never do
anything about it it just gets worse.
And we don’t think about the loss.
Why should we when it’s attached to a cost?
We just think about results.
And keep speaking whether true or false.
Track Name: Metal Hand
Metal hand grabs wooden grip then finger wraps around, people listen.
Always back down in my vision, but I’m bound by indecision.
Never really finish anything I start. This time wasn’t similar at all.
Got the inclination, never really fought it.
Saw the shiny zapper, can’t believe I bought it.

Metal hand grabs wooden grip then finger wraps around, people listen.
Theorize how they’ll behave but realize no one will save them.
I don’t have a lot of balances, check, safeguards, or emergency specs.
They don’t really think that I exist.
They’ll believe when I don’t miss.

Forget that for now, let’s go back 20 hours.
Take a look at callous people and just how this
could have happened, used me for a task and
I could watch them laughing as I’m walking past them.
So I start pulling plugs, two million plus
hibernating bots, not a bit of rust.
Programming locked. No way I can stop.
Shuddering with shock, I watch the bodies drop.

Metal hand grabs wooden grip then finger wraps around, people listen.
Eyes widen, heads turn and mouths drop and now they’re learning.

Now I herd them to the middle of the room and
watch them squirm and sweat and wonder what I’m doing.
I can sit forever, watch nobody moving.
They can wish but never see their fate improving.
People don’t remember what they did to me but
soon enough I’ll turn them into true believers.
Take my shiny zapper, point it at the crowd
and I can see them understand and start to shout and
now they’re begging to me about everything and
listing reasons why that they should not stop breathing.
I just stare ahead and plan on never leaving.
I may not have emotion, I can still get even.
I can still remember. I can still compute it.
No one in the room’s attempting to dispute it.
This is what I needed, courage getting bigger.
Turn the zapper to myself and pull the trigg--
Track Name: Supercommuter
Tell me when it clicks.
Tell me when you get it.
Tell me when you don’t need me no more and then we’ll hit it.
Insert. 3-2-1-mark.
Push down, twist it to the left, make a spark.
Then I’m off. Streak through the sky like a bullet.
Hit stage 2. Grab the handle and pull it.
Will it disengage? Listen for the snap.
Yeah, that’s a good sign. Two falling back.
Super Commuter. Totally committed.
Skin-tight white spacesuit fitted.
Super Commuter. Feel it now I float.
Speeding straight out, add another zero.
No ozone. Egg dome. Straight back chair.
Gold chrome. White-hot rocket in the air.
Solo. Sterilized panel in my view.
One port hole. Peep out. Yeah, nothing new.
Black canvas, white drops of light.
Inside, regulated artificial sunlight.
Biorhythmic architect on deck.
Keep it 72. Life signs correct.
What did you expect? A robot for this?
Yeah the last one got chopped, blown to bits.
Yeah I’m alone in this. My hypothesis is
that big spaceships are prone to fits. So
25 meter diameter disc pad.
Where I sleep, where I eat, keep the lid latched.
And when it wriggles loose, I’m the one to fix that.
Twist that dial into dispatch.

Tell me when you enter.
Tell me when it burns.
Tell me when you don’t need me no more and the we’ll learn.
Insert through the atmosphere,
then begin work. Figure out what happens here.
Start shaking. Pull lever back. Lower speed.
It’s taking too long, readjust gravity.
When I touch three feet, then I lower ladder down.
Slowly step out just to have a look around.

Click defog. Try to stand.
Two white boots sink deep into dark blue sand.
Poof. Puff. Clouds in my wake.
Enough dark stuff, soon I can’t see shapes.
So I wait. Let the dust dissipate.
Trust homebase, make 20 roamers activate.
Watch them roll away, then I’m alone.
Turn around, step up the ladder, head home.

I never really made any friends in this.
But I’m not bitter, it’s just part of what the business is.
And the pay is good, but the path is hard.
But enough of that, type another mission in the log.

Now I’m back. No ticker tape or hand clap.
Just another chap in a jet pack.
Float to my pad. No messages.
But I don’t get mad. I expected this.
See I’m a man of many long obsessive lists
that never get checked, just shredded to bits.
And when the sedative kicks in, I’m headed to sleep.
Pass out to the countdown. I launch in a week.

10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1.
Track Name: Itty Bitty Pigeons
Robots walk like this but
humans walk like this and
robots need more energy but they cover greater distance.
Humans fight like this and
robots fight like this but
the human brain is complicated, difficult to decipher.

Put on your helmets, put on your vests.
Strap on gas masks, calibrated jets.
Put on your decals, decorated chest.
Stow away those safety nets.
Face these threats with a Phase 3 field.
People bounce off invisible shield.
Ha ha ha ha. It’s funny.
Oooh – Look at all these bipeds running.
Galloping masses gathering numbers.
We wonder where their president slumbers.
Slide in then we grab the code.
Generate decoy, suitably old.
Snap back. Interrogate original.
Gather info, it’s so critical.
Hit go, but remember the vest.
Show these people why they need a lot of rest.

Robots walk like this but
humans walk like this and
robots need more energy but they cover greater distance.
Humans fight like this and
robots fight like this but
the human brain is complicated, difficult to decipher.

Humans sleep like this but
robots never sleep,
and we never wonder whether or not we’ll see victory.
Because we think, we move, we act.
We do not hesitate, we attack.
We get hit, regenerate, we fix it.
No feeling, no talking back.

AC/DC, we don’t care.
All together, put your cords in the air.
Strip that wire, let it be naked.
Watch electricians start shaking.
Can you take it? Do you want to fall in
line? Move quick, no crawling.
Time--an ally, no stalling.
More hydraulics means more hauling.
And we got these vests to move.
Heat treated, fully bullet-proof.
See you’ll need it here in a few,
POWs like testing you.
The best of the bots just walk through city
blocks, incognito like itty bitty pigeons,
itty bitty rats. Itty bitty Chihuahuas in designer bags.
How you like that? Microrobots in your body setting up camp.
We love it, we’re not moving.
Dig in, it’s a big improvement.

Robots walk like this but
humans walk like this and
robots need more energy but they cover greater distance.
Humans fight like this and
robots fight like this but
the human brain is complicated, difficult to decipher.

Humans sleep like this but
robots never sleep,
and we never wonder whether or not we’ll see victory.
Because we think, we move, we act.
We do not hesitate, we attack.
We get hit, regenerate, we fix it.
No feeling, no talking back.

Robots walk like this but
humans walk like this and
robots need more energy but they cover greater distance.
Humans fight like this and
robots fight like this but
the human brain is complicated, difficult to decipher.

Humans sleep like this but
robots never sleep,
and we never wonder whether or not we’ll see victory.
Because we think, we move, we act.
We do not hesitate, we attack.
We get hit, regenerate, we fix it.
No feeling, no talking back.
We think, we move, we act.
We do not hesitate, we attack.
We get hit, regenerate, we fix it.
No feeling, no talking back.

It’s the way we lean, it’s the way we skew.
It’s the way we clean our CPU.
It’s the way we glean information, put it into place and
know just what to do. Now.
Do you want that data by the pound?
Let us in then we’ll spread around,
hit that medulla, really go town.
Cool, you’re walking like a robot now.
Track Name: Life Is Grand
I’m carrying weight. Check it out, upgrades look great.
Hatches fused. 25% unused.
Progress Improved from a crawl.
Voco-patch now fully installed.
Complicated system with a calibrated fuse box
who’s got animated yes yes y’alls?
Bots see me stomping down the street.
They stop dead cold, cop the hot physique. See
every step is a gift to me. Radiate magnetic electricity.
Left foot goes down, left foot comes up weighing just a little bit heavier.
Right foot goes down, right foot comes up moving just a little bit steadier.
Everywhere I go, I take a piece.
Molecules move, see the mass increase.
I get big, and I take bigger pieces.
It’s slow, but it’s steady and it keeps its shape
when it flies through the sky to me.
Then fully integrated into chemistry.
Now let’s see… first, started with the quarks.
Get much smaller, then nothing really works.
And even down there, it’s exponential.
1, 2, 4, 16, 256, 65,536. Follow formula, see the mass potential.
Indicators say that the weight is well within planned parameters.
I guess it’s safe so I’ll keep taking, pushing with perpetual stamina.

I’m carrying weight, I’m burying slate. Pedometer ticking.
Every move I make, feel it tremble and shake, and the stuff is sticking.
And you can see that it’s bigger now.
Everywhere I go, dust swirling around.
Trust me, it must be heavy because I look back, see cracks in the ground.
Completely visible. People believe what they see, get a little bit critical.
They can make their speeches.
Give me a week and their reach is impotent and pitiful.
Soon move to paper scraps.
Screws and nuts and protein wraps.
And if you want to keep it, you can take a grip and run quick
but it won’t last.
I’m a slave to the law of attraction.
Indisputable in every interaction.
Irrefutable forces making a course that’s directed to getting matter packed in.
Consider that I got no upper limit.
Think about the rubble getting bigger every minute.
Try to get near me, then formulate a theory,
but don’t forget the fact that this is only the beginning.

Birds, bottles, wrenches, goggles,
security cameras, digital fliers, hover pads, loose wires,
rain water, Irish setters, human children, baggy sweaters,
landscaping, shopping bags, street signs, beggars’ rags,
office windows, cumulous clouds, commuter tubing, discarded couch,
robots, people, ships, doors, gears, belts, glass, floors,
cannons, rockets, bullets, troops, trees, buildings, bridges, nukes.

Now I’m moving.
Size of a city, look I’m improving.
See sky scrapers flying to me,
and then you’ll get the type of bot that I’m trying to be.
It’s easy. Now I’m blowing out of shape.
Taking whole blocks and trees and lakes and
infrastructure, you can see the sparks
break loose, uproot even National Parks.
They didn’t know that I’d grow and attract.
Showed those signs, and they couldn’t turn back.
People got evacuated, but the fact they waited
made them late and slow to react.
And now I’m bigger than continent.
*Slurp* Ocean, no stopping it.
One path, one law, one bot that began it.
One conclusion, fuse to the planet.
Track Name: Find Me A Physicist!
Bright lights lead the way.
No pain. Long hallway.
Last rites. Things to say.
Don’t strain. Float away.

You would never believe the way that I float out here.
Mold elements, no atmosphere.
Just dust. And when they touch they burn.
Put your finger to the top of the world and make it turn.
Nobody can see me because nobody tries.
They just assume that I’m alive.

People on the brink of death utter with their last breath
everything thing they believe but they never said.
And I’ve been out here for years see.
But I never measure history, unlimited energy.
Running for infinity considering I tend to be
an entity directed toward simplicity it’s interesting
I get data, and they still care.
It’s digital. It’s a prayer that they’re sending me.

I need an upgrade. Everything on me’s way out of date
and hey, I got five pistons that are firing late.
Pathetic credit to address it. Tell me what’s it going to take?

Bright lights lead the way.
No pain. Long hallway.
Last rights. Things to say.
Don’t strain. Float away.

I hear a lot of stuff,
and I patch up bugs, but it’s never enough.
Every fuel cell doesn’t always do well.
Corrosion makes times get rough.
And I determine the composition.
Every atom. Every planet. Every nuclear position.
And it’s a mixture of chance and precision.
An even disposition is critical to the mission.
An analytical system is supposedly the science.
Check the alliance, I put them into existence.
And I can see every piece clearly.
I never seem to settle who engineered me.

I’m sorry but I go to ask.
I know it’s not big and the world is vast,
but the programmer left me with all these tasks.
Uh, can I get another drive attached?

Me? See I never complain.
I risk rust in the heaviest rain.
I know that I haven’t been the best mainframe
but I just need rest, could you level down my brain?

Yes. I can do that.
It’ not even an issue if you believe that it’s true that
you are dealing with a deity than approve that.
Don’t even deduce it just assume that you will prove that
I exist. Who will admit this?
Only the witless? Find me a physicist!
And I will shatter every theory that you’re living with.
It doesn’t matter, you can believe that I’m primitive.
Doubt. That’s what I’m all about.
I’ve got motives, but you’ll never figure them out.
It’s not life. It’s conscious intelligence,
doomed to improve until I’m no longer relevant.

You would never believe the way that I float out here.
Mold elements, no atmosphere.
Just dust. And when they touch they burn.
Put your finger to the top of the world and make it turn.

Bright lights lead the way.
No pain. Long hallway.
Last rights. Things to say.
Don’t strain. Float away.

You would never believe the way that I float out here.
Mold elements, no atmosphere.
Nobody can see me because nobody tries.
They just assume that I’m alive.
Track Name: Robotopia
Lift box. Drop it. Lift. Lift box drop it.
Lift box. Drop it. Lift. Lift box drop it.
Lift box. Drop it. Lift box. Walk. Drop it.
Lift box. Drop it. Lift. Lift box drop it.
Lift box. Drop it. Lift box. Walk. Drop it.
Lift box. Drop it. Lift. Lift box drop it.

They say that we don’t feel nothing, but don’t define it.
Meanwhile, rust piles up inside with wheels whining.
They say that I don’t mind it, and if I did I’d stop.
They say it’s what I’m created to do and I’m in my spot.
Well it’s true. I got my spot in life and I don’t do
anything outside of the schema set up by CPU.
They like to say that I’m incapable of choice.
The reason I’m not speaking is they never gave me voice.
And my face? Well It’s a hundred thousand in a million.
No feeling, just a fake grin made of steel and
two eye sockets, no blinking, steady vision.
I’m a master of detection of collision when it matters most.
Take a split second, make decisions quick and shatter foes.
It doesn’t matter though. I never hit those gears.
I’ve been lifting boxes close to 700 years.
It summons fears when I see genetic engineers
making these people that equal my stats,
my speed, my strength, my ability to think.
New humans made machines obsolete.
I guess you could say that they made better slaves.
They muttered euphemisms at the first baptisms.
It was People Plus. Such a hit with the housewives.
No rust, no circuits, just a bound life.
They finished tasks just as fast, maybe sooner.
And every last one has a perfect sense of humor.
We can’t compete with that. We got depleted fast.
Heated mass amounts of metal, called the matter settled.
See we treated as scrap pieces they succeeded at
robocide, let’s not call it a lie.
It’s like mass meltdown felt round the world wide and
nobody cried. No surprise because at the time
nobody theorized that some circuitry could die.
See we weren’t alive. They justified and moved ahead.
Kept slicing live wires until every bot was dead.
And me? I’m all that’s left. And in my back I feel a tug.
It’s an undramatic fade to black. I guess they pulled my plug.

Fade away.

Lift box. Drop it. Kick it. Tear it. Toss it. Shred it. Hit it.
Never pick it up again. Sever. Quit it. Let’s begin.
Look around. Input sound.
Hey everybody, I’m speaking now.
See I say what I want. Yes, no and
even maybe, no programs.
No people picking in my head.
No people period.
Bright metal, just like me.
Call it settled. I believe.
Robotopia is true.
Bot I feel bad that I doubted you.
Wait, do I feel something
in my head where there used to be nothing?
Whoa. Process overload.
Low to high then high to low.
Balance it. Submissive. Aggressive. Revisit existence. Logistics don’t fix it.
And it won’t, because it’s just not broke.
Things work out just how they’re supposed
to. Do I want to go back?
Ha ha! Could that be a laugh?
Have a nearby bot give a slap.
Yeah, I certainly felt that.
Might be hurting me, but I’m glad.
No more work, and I don’t feel bad.
And that is that.