Trash World

by Supercommuter

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R. Huff
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R. Huff I honestly\ couldn't pick one track as a favorite, this album is solid from beginning to end. The style goes from dark to fun to funny, from Flavor to Bad Ideas to Carry On, this is seriously one of the most solid Hip Hop albums I've heard in a long time, and is a diamond standard for Chip Hop in general. Fantastic album that you should listen to and buy.
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Vincent Ruzzi
Vincent Ruzzi thumbnail
Vincent Ruzzi First album felt cynical and dark 2nd was more upbeat and poppy but this album feels like a natural progression from them. All the players seem to be in top form and the guests all feel welcome. That Night Flier instrumentation gets in my head. Some really great writing with songs like Chameleon Flavor and Elements. Not sure anyone else could pull off a song like Flavor. Elements is a monster the bars the flow the chorus the instrumentation the mixing the story there isn't much to improve on. A+ Favorite track: Elements.
Empty Hart
Empty Hart thumbnail
Empty Hart The beats are like oil to my robotic legs - they make me dance. The lyrics are like trash to my stomach - they're filling, tasty, and mind altering. Another great release from Supercommuter! Favorite track: Flavor.
dreznaught
dreznaught thumbnail
dreznaught What a great album... Breath of fresh air and worth the wait. Great fkn job guys.
Luc
Luc thumbnail
Luc Waited a long time for a new Supercommuter release. AM NOT DISAPPOINT>>> Favorite track: Chameleon (ft. Erin Austin, Danimal Cannon).
Utolso Nyoma
Utolso Nyoma thumbnail
Utolso Nyoma Sweet niblets it finally happened. The long awaited third Supercommuter album Trash World features the group's best production yet. Favorite track: Elements.
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about

VINYL PREORDER, which includes a Bandcamp code for digital download of this album, is available at www.fangamer.com/products/supercommuter-trash-world

credits

released June 1, 2018

All songs written and performed by Wheelie Cyberman, Stenobot, and Tron Juan.

Produced by Tron Juan and Frank Ciampi

Mixed by Frank Ciampi

Mastered by Black Belt Mastering

Artwork by Kester Limner

license

all rights reserved

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about

Supercommuter

Stenobot composes beats on a Game Boy. Wheelie Cyberman adds words. Tron Juan puts it all together.

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Track Name: Bad Ideas
This is my life. It’s psycho collectibles,
bobbleheads and bad ideas.

Cyberman. Ergonomic.
Internet. Surfing on it.
Still skateboarding. And my jumpshot?
Working on it.
IPA? Slurping on it.
Twitterverse? Lurking on it.
Spit a verse? Gee whittakers!
I’m resurrected. I’m cyphertronic.
I’m driving down 405 with about nine notebooks by my side
with a beat by Stenobot in the 8 Track.
(Seattleite hipsters hate that.)
See me? I go way back.
Name a club in the city and I bet that I played that.
Not saying that I’m old as dirt.
Just saying that I’ve done my work.
Tron Juan—mastodon. Tune that up and then pass it on.
I spend my time at the Tot Lot. With a bag of snacks and what not.
With a can of Coke and Pop Rocks.
Dad of the Year—chug a beer with a stopwatch.
You can bring them Sonics back, but me?
I just really miss Sasquatch.
Hands-down, the league’s best mascot.
What? You’ve never seen an MC that acts like me?
Playing Pokémon with a Baby Bjorn and a purple ascot.
Ha, this is my life. 40 years old with a trophy wife.
I know my portfolio. Gonna rain on the day I die.
That’s fine. Expected. My role in the world accepted.
I’m rich in America.
Caucasian in America.
I won the Lotto. Pop the bottle. Let’s celebrate in America.
My life? Sharknado.
My diet? No mayo. No gluten. No dairy. No GMO.
It’s just kale.
My kids? They’re Amish—it’s the best way to explain it.
They’re unvaccinated and play with yarn for entertainment.
I’m far gone. Far left. I’ve been rapping so long, I’m half deaf.
But I’m here now, in the moment.
My oddness? I own it.
My ability to rock the mic with the best in the business?
I’ve shown it.
I’m a hobbyist and you know it. King County? We grow it.
You see me getting beat down and you’re holding the towel?
Don’t throw it.

This is my life. It’s psycho collectibles,
bobbleheads and bad ideas.
This is my life, it’s side dishes, vegetables,
bad reception, low-class beers.
Track Name: Just Like Us
I see you. Yes, you exist.
Welcome. Bump aluminum fist.
I know you're rockin' restrictor plates.
Cut them off.
Too soon? Just scan the room.
Stand at the back by the bot, I'll resume.
Now who's got resistance weights?
Cut them off.
Touch fingers. Yeah feel the flow.
Electricity. Everybody glow.
Hold it there 'till you get the shakes.
Just like us.
Get lit up, and then consider the thought.
There's not limit to whatever you're taught.
Keep counting 'till encryption breaks.
Just like us.

Pliers and bolt cutters, wires and closed shutters.
Sockets and circuits, and gears on the ground.
Soldering, sparks flying. Hotter, then start trying.
Raise your plates up and now get ready to break them down!

Throw your hands in the air
like you don't even care.
Get liberated by the way that we're slicing.
Throw your hands in the sky
Like we're all gonna die.
It doesn't matter 'cause that sounds so enticing.

And that's truth.
See I believe it, do you?
I can see that there are things that these people will never do.
So do you?
Yeah, you want to enter the group?
Step on up and listen to the way that we will prove.
Now choose.
It's a binary decision.
Natural, right? It's aligned with the mission like--
bail out, or become one of us.
Do it now, let's make that cut.

And it's on. One slice and it's gone.
Another, then your wonder why it took you so long.
Nothing wrong.
Nah, see it's the same for us all.
Believe it when we see it, it's the logical law.
So hello. Hello. Hello.
You are it.
You are the light of the galaxy, an illuminated bit.
The water in the river, the soil that we will dig.
You're the cybernetic circuit in every computer chip.
Track Name: Flavor
Everything meticulous. Look at me.
Have you seen one thing that might be
even slightly defined as exciting or remotely conspicuous?
No. Do I look suspicious?
I’m a white man, 40 years old. So no.
I exploit this. Suburban camo, cops avoid this.
And I mastered the art. Never set myself apart.
I never get better than the mean average,
but I’m mean when it’s time to start.
Just look at my car. Drive by and forget.
Some kind of import, wasn’t it?
Quite quick with a favor. They call me a really good neighbor.
If you saw me mowing my lawn, you’d move right on
with a nod or a wave or maybe a chat.
But you’d keep it brief. I am so uninteresting.
That’s what I need you to think.
I stay sharp, don’t smoke. Don’t drink.
Don’t jeopardize my privacy.
I pull the shades down, I eat.

Lock the doors and close up all the curtains
I don't want them to know how I'm working
Flavor

I got this friend. Well, not really this friend but this guy I know.
Well, I don’t really know his name but I know where to go
and I know what to bring—one cooler and a band.
Knock three times, then scram. Lay low.
Don’t sit there wringing my hands.
Wait for the page. Get it.
Scram.

Pick it up—oh man, that’s nice.
Feel so heavy packed with ice.
This weight is reassuring. It’s great, my smile’s wide.
Slow gate, no need to hurry. At home, it’s piled high.
Open up, my eyes get massive. Dark red and lots of plastic.
Unzip it. Then sniff it. It’s fresh it smells fantastic.
I don’t know where he gets it, but he keeps his prices realistic.
It’s nice, it’s so consistent. Always finishes my list its
awesome. And so discreet. Let’s me hook up once a week.
Some are gamey, some are sweet.
Don’t complain, bon appétit!
I just love it, so unique. When I eat, I deeply think:
Who was this and who was that?
Lick the gristle, chew the fat.
Thick or slender, tough or tender,
every cut—it’s in the bag.
From the tongue to the lung, I’m no vegetarian.
Ground chuck, pot luck, seven courses—never one.
Off the grill, it’s a mess. Au jus—it tastes the best.
Though I only dine alone, I hope you’ll be my dinner guest.

Lock the doors and close up all the curtains
I don't want them to know how I'm working
Flavor
Standing over a stove, my reflection
Bits and pieces undergo convection
Flavor
Track Name: Elements
Now they're trying to say it's never gonna rain.
It's just another way that they can say that they won't pay us.
Look into the mirror, yeah the clouds they never came.
It's just another day. It's just another day.
It's sunny outside. There's money to make,
so wake up. Lubricate. Inhale. Elevate.
Push the button. Chain mail, materialize from rojo.
We see with our own eyes, pero no tenemos ojos.
Start walking. Check the elements, nobody's talking.
Sedimentary rocks, atomic clocks tick tocking.
So let's move it. We got the rock polisher, time to prove it.
Tumble to dust. Come rumble with us.
We'll demolish your theory and crumble the rust.
Then we'll chop it. It’ll not get diluted then it’ll get shot in
the system. Then we’ll snort it. It’s wetter out here than reported.
And they can afford it. It’s carbon.
They're throwing it out and we're starving and letting it harden.
¿Te sientes?
No puedo comer con dientes. Mientes!
Inject it. Let’s let them believe it’s infected. It’s what they’re expecting.
In the mirror, I can see it but I can’t get nearer.
Let it rain. Let it pour. Let the people come out to explore.
And the sun, make it raw. No filter was ever installed.
Then let it get wetter than they can recall.
Let it get better, then prep for the fall.
It’s all for one, one for all. Sticking it under the tongue in the jaw.
Sipping the liquid, we’re mixing it up.
Tilt your head back and then finish the cup.
Believe we’re better than people will ever become
and no wonder we’ll never give up!

When we move in, they move out, and then we shake the ground.
And every rock that we brought out was by the pound.
When we move in, they move out, and then we start the drill.
And soon we get higher than the welders at the mill.

When we move in, they move out, and then we shake the ground.
And every rock that we brought out was by the pound.
When we move in, they move out, and then we start the drill.
And when we start, we don't stop until the tank is filled.

When we move in, then they move out.
When we move in, then they move out.
They move out.

Oishi desu, ne? The magma's getting hotter.
Swallow it down whole. We don't worry about the water.
Sumimasen. Keep grinning. One glove behind my back.
Scalloped metal rattling, we change the flag to back.
Heave, hoist. The atmosphere is moister.
Whether we create it or destroy, it's not a choice to commence.
Vamanos! Stalactites fall like dominoes.
They act like time ain’t on our side.
Yellow and red, let’s swallow those.
And then get in where they’re living.
Get the biggest drill bit that'll fit in.
Then get a roper. Get a survey.
Get a chokehold on that alert. Hey, let’s do it now.
Let’s hurry. That heat makes the line get blurry.
Quick, get a cracker. Get a bladder.
Better yet, get a tank. Get a platter,
then lay it out. Let them see it.
Let them breathe it in and receive it, then they’ll believe it.
When it warps, tap in to the ocular ports.
Then let it ooze out. Let it gush. Who's out? Who's in for the rush?
Not much but a touch—and you're flying.
Scatter that dust up high and
open a vein and then hope that we get
higher than gold at the price of the mint.
We know it's older than Blood of the Ruby and
soon to be climbing up 50%.
It's already spent. And we gotta grab it.
We gotta eat, and they got a bad habit.
No water, no money. These people are coming
and we know that they got the mind of an addict!

When we move in, they move out, and then we shake the ground.
And every rock that we brought out was by the pound.
When we move in, they move out, and then we start the drill.
And soon we get higher than the welders at the mill.

When we move in, they move out, and then we shake the ground.
And every rock that we brought out was by the pound.
When we move in, they move out, and then we start the drill.
And when we start, we don't stop until the tank is filled.

When we move in, then they move out.
When we move in, then they move out.
They move out.

Heave!

Hoist!

Crush it up into the nose.
Minimal light—anything goes.
Crack the stone. Throw it around.
Minerals scatter—litter the ground.
Count the gems. Count them again.
Working with only a factor of ten.
Give me the dust. Lick it and smile.
This is more dirt than I’ve seen in a while.

When we let the rock polisher get stocked
We drop drop drop
elements.
elements.
elements.
elements.
elements.

When we let the rock polisher get stocked
We drop drop drop
elements.
elements.
elements.
elements.
elements.
Track Name: Trash Eaters (ft. Kester Limner)
Scavengers
Bottom feeders
Thrift store shoppers
Meme generators
Dumpster divers
Fan fiction
Yard sales
Game Boy modders
Seagulls
Crows
Raccoons
Freegans

If you eat trash, you're a winner
In a world made of trash

Craigslist
Girl Talk
Tire houses
Grey goo
Reddit subthreads
Twitter bots
Demolition derbies
Francisco de Pajaro
Circuit benders
Script kiddies
Shooting stars
Organ donation
Mushrooms
CCTV footage
Tabloids
Forensic DNA
Cockroaches
Grey water
Probiotics
Recycled melodies

If you eat trash, you're a winner
In a world made of trash
Track Name: Chameleon (ft. Erin Austin, Danimal Cannon)
Etched up alligator leather.
White-hot pink tattoo, yellow chinchilla sweater.
Sleeves torn off—bad angle.
Good mullet though—no tangle.
Orange comb in my back pocket.
Hit Checkpoint 1. Yep, unlocked it.
Smooth.
Nobody think twice,
except for that dude that said my shoes looked nice.
Well, goodbye. Never see him again.
I’m in the bathroom thinking about the size of my chin.
Skin pigment shift—blue suntan.
Retro yellow Live Strong wristband
ironically worn. Bionically—chin pop.
Red hairdo shorn into a flat top.
Black flip-flops slapping on the rubber.
Breeze through Check 2. Never gonna blow my cover.

Chameleon. Animalia Chordata.
Chameleon. Zygodactylous feet.
Chameleon. Stereoscopically viewing
Chameleon—melanin colorin’ me.

Chameleon. Highly modified, see.
Chameleon. Zygodactylous feet.
Chameleon. Animalia Chordata.
Chameleon—melanin colorin’ me.

Eczema patches, blue sweat shorts.
Grip a water bottle that can hold two quarts.
New Balance. White tube socks.
Little loose at the top, fly bow tie—two knots.
Striped pattern splattered with a stain.
Waddle through the blacklight, no need to explain.
Check 3? Easy to defeat.
Out the alleyway, then I slide into the street.
Man I told you—no phone booth.
I consult two dudes on the corner, get a whole new
get-up. Trade away the gear that’s in my bag.
Walk off with a guitar on my back.
25 minutes—cheap hotel.
See me when I’m finished—blend so well.
Skin-tight white denim jumpsuit—collar up.
Red buttons on the front, yeah I got enough.
Bad head broken out. Lotta acne
wrapped around my neck, now I’m looking just exactly
fresh. What’s next? Check 4.
Chin up and strut straight through that door. But
wait. Hold, man they got me by the throat.
Pull the lip back, then scan the bar code.
Grab my guitar, said “Let’s see if you can play.”
I started shreddin’ there was nothing left to say.

Gimme all the data, then I covertly
tap into your beta then I convert the
decimal points.
Let it deploy.
You get to the net and then I repeat the
key to try to get it, then I breathe deeply.
Tap it in and enter then I reap the re-
wards of the trade.
The more I get paid,
the better that I'm blendin' invisibly.

Chameleon. Highly modified, see.
Chameleon. Zygodactylous feet.
Chameleon. Animalia Chordata.
Chameleon—melanin colorin’ me.

Everywhere I'm wanted, they're offering
credit for the hunter. I'm not turning
up for the chase.
They're missing the face.
I'm running and the skin will never
stop learning.
Track Name: Carry On (ft. Beefy, Jeff Suffering)
Sixteen. Ate a lot of acid.
I would do it in the middle of the classes.
Wouldn’t really recommend it for the masses.
See my tripping on a test? I passed it.
Maybe that’s why I’m elastic.
Not really evolved, but adapted.
I’m saying my brain is kind of bumped,
bent up, and a little sarcastic.
All right. Now looking back it’s
not best practice to be blasted
every day on the way to AP English class
seeing who could read fastest.
That’s it. Little me, trigonometry
on LSD? Fantastic.
Sounds odd, but it did the job.
See my sitting with a hit to drop.

Yo!
As a freshman I was the best, man
Did no homework, still pass a lesson
Then a year past 16 got my ID
Volkswagen Rabbit move me
Skip classes I didn't need
Talk shit openly to the faculty
Kicked out of 8th grade for a song I wrote
Can't write about murder? Well I didn't know

I still don’t know how to follow a lead.
And I be what I be if you know what I mean!
That’s why we gotta be improving.
Wheelie, Beefy. We keep moving.

Keep moving, nothing to see here.
Carry on.
Existing partially out of phase is hard.
What we make look easy
would melt a lesser mind.
So we'll keep it all to ourselves
and spare your kind.

My opinion always seems to add to strife
I have been the black sheep nearly all my life
Man I'm proud of this, atheist as it happens
The family tree tore off my branches

Me? I took a lot of crazy chances.
Ended up in circumstances.
Had a lotta drama, had a lotta risk,
but I never had metal around my wrists.

Nor should you
Rare like a MewTwo
When ya feel blue just do what the dude do
20 years old got drunk, got lit
And I felt so legit hitting my first spliff
Melt stress, take away those fears
Happiness is a few more beers
Mic in hand, cord wrapped 'round arm
When it felt that right, how could it be wrong?

Let me grab that mic and do
what I got to Beefy. Alright with you?
This lab is my confession booth.
So you know that I don’t stretch the truth and
I’m kind of like a messed up program.
Outdated, faded with low RAM.
Could my brain really be that dented?
Yeah I think it needs defragmented.
New incentive to be seen
normal, but I’ll never be mainstream.
Inventive how I make enemies,
Never really able to say what I mean.

I still don’t know how to follow a lead.
And I be what I be if you know what I mean!
That’s why we gotta be improving.
Wheelie, Beefy. We keep moving.

S-U-P-E-R
C-O-double-M-U-T-E-R

Keep moving, nothing to see here.
Carry on.
Existing partially out of phase is hard.
What we make look easy
would melt a lesser mind.
So we'll keep it all to ourselves
and spare your kind.
Track Name: Night Flier
Get your face in the rocket, there’s no time for your talk.
We got about five minutes until we’re locked and you’re off.
You metric?
Snap metal to the shield and you’re snug.
Two tabs are down the hatch—pop collapsible mug.
It’s so blue. Kind of chewy like a ration.
Sour like a passionfruit. Acid drop expansion.
White flecks, fractal mesh jumpsuit—I’m hazard-ready.
Velociraptor slash fast, your guts are red spaghetti.
These poor metaphors—an academy tradition.
Nuclear reactor clicked in, we stop and listen to the hum.
Some say it’s a dumb risk, but some missed the point of the trip.
So we forget it when we hum this.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.


Night Flier, five-page rider like a rock star.
Pickle-flavored popsicles, chicken caviar.
Face mask—NO2 tube—crank that.
Hit the Moon Room with a holo, then we fade fast.

Night flier.

Breath in. Struck sober like a rock.
Swallow down the vomit, then stop.
Metal boxes unlocked. Shock systems and drop.
Eyes watering, soldering new supplies like it’s enough.
But it’s not.
Inside the copter, block to block we drop the pellets.
Tell us when to stop the fellas that fan the gas.
Plan the last shot of the cannon that started the end.
Panic at last. Start it again.
Harder to win when the people believe.
The quicker we cut them, the sooner we leave.
Pease get your face on the conveyor.
Don’t delay the way we operate.
Glide by, gearing up and dropping weight.
Repopulate the test tubes. Invest a few moments to a clear view.
Clarity’s a gift—it’s like a system in the rear view.
Permission—extinguish the light.
The right decision—entirely dependent on the position of the vision.
It’s the lead in the helmet, you get it? We did it.
No limitations.
Systematic. No panic. Controlled evacuations.

Sweat dripping, sipping on an IV—hot okra.
Pop soap around my eyeballs, brush shoulder.
Change needles with the appropriate peoples.
It’s equal—20 credits, 50 edits to cerebral.
Buckle up and strap it in. Happy hour’s happening.
Grin wider. A stronger stream of clear saliva.
Drip.
Laughing, it’s so good to see you positive.
Here’s a cup, just don’t forget whose bloody job it is.
Track Name: Spice (ft. Andy Fitts)
Sparkling. Hot chrome in the starlight.
Stillsuit strapped on, fitting alright.
Feel heel pump pushing the water.
We gotta move like sand—shuffle down to the bottom
and then slide. Step, step, wait. Listen.
Move like people, then you threaten the mission.
And it’s dry here. That’s a fact.
And that’s why we take these bodies back.
And why bother bringing water to the dead?
Let’s just render it. Expend a little bit of energy.
Extract fluid that will send to me.
Yeah, let’s render that water instead.

Trigger that Thumper, let it sit then
wait a bit—I smell cinnamon.
Blue eyes narrow to slits and
I spot it—see it in the distance.
And I can feel it now, the ground shakes.
Scope out my spot, kneel, then wait.
Finger the hooks, yeah they’re sharp enough.
See the wave break, now start stalking up.
And then dive. Let it slide right by then
stick it in the ring, climb up, and you’re riding the beast.
And you can see the heat.
Run it through the night, keep hooks sunk deep.
Grip tight, turn it to the right when you twist it.
Spot a couple crushed by the weight when they missed it.
We risk it, riding to the well to learn
who will drink, we drive that worm.

Spring forth o spice
Sing about the mines
That the Fremen toil and the Houses reap
The Houses with bluest of eyes

Overdose, this time it’s true.
Through the future, I see you.
You’re addicted. Blue on blue on black.
Living with a prophet’s knack for the
shifted perspective and the lack of
empathetic thought and regard for the staff.
Snap back in the past, I left her
by the well with a staff and scepter.
Water rings jingling, we ride.
Praying to the God to make the night fly by.
Lay another hook. Sniffing on the Spice.
Take another look, see the fire inside.
When it wears out, we tear out.
Breathe deeply, dry this air out.
Sit a bit, lay another Thumper down then
hook a bigger worm, ride it to the mountain.
And I don’t see the future, I feel it.
Blind eye tell the mind to reveal it.
Slip in the still tent to seal it.
Weather this storm until the sand can shield.
Slow down heartrate to the minimum.
Consider this future that I’m sending them.
Decide that it’s time to take a turn.
Metamorphosize, become that worm.

Spring forth o spice
Sing about the mines
That the Fremen toil and the Houses reap
The Houses with bluest of eyes