by Naked Waste

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Recorded in a swamp one hour south and in a warehouse half an hour north of Melbourne, Australia. Mastered by Adam Dempsey at Deluxe


All the sanctity you pour inside your children
and the silence that is captured in your walls,
All the levity you farm in front of cameras when they’re on,
And I just don’t feel like I belong here anymore.

Well we made it to the twilight of the senses
where your airwaves are just oceanic noise,
I see your ossified grins and your lifestyle beckoning,
and the sewerage that is dripping from your jaws.
While some national anthem’s been carved out of silence
and articulated in suburban sprawl,
All the privilege buried in the weary pallor of my skin,
And I just don’t feel like I belong here anymore.

You turn away the tide with crooked fingers
and your blackened teeth sunk into bleaching shores,
every family scabbed with rust and every mother filled with dust,
curled around their grief in history’s claws.
While some boneless mass of skin just talks in sculpture,
leaks vapour over parliamentary floors,
all the trust that’s been misplaced, that tore the features from your face,
And I just don’t feel like I belong here anymore.

Well your old medicine chest has started heaving,
crushed under your crossed nuclear arms,
can you tell me honestly, just who it is you’re supposed to be?
And I just don’t feel like I belong here anymore.
From the mountains of Tasmania, to the Gulf of Carpentaria
I just don’t feel like I belong here anymore.


released October 18, 2015
Paul Cumming - Bass guitar/Voice
Mastered by Adam Dempsey at Deluxe



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Naked Waste Melbourne, Australia

Primarily composed and performed on the bass guitar, Naked Waste is wounded folk scaffolded with arctic digital percussion and a mist of disembodied vocals. Something tethered to the geography of disremembered places—a communion of wonder and dereliction. These places of influence are used as a kind of vocabulary for the human interior— for unstable landscapes of self. ... more

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