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Weightbearer

by Squalloscope

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salcido34
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salcido34 I always love to see what Squalloscope produces next and how her style evolves between songs. I don't have much to say, besides Wire feeling like the perfect blend between the newer, slower, more solemn style seen through most of Weightbearer and what we heard in much of Exoskeletons for Children. Thank you, Anna Kohlweis, for doing what you love and sharing it with the world. Favorite track: Wire.
illalesbia
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illalesbia I spent weeks trying to pick a favourite track because every single lyric is so good that they make me want to shed my skin like a snake. I love all of them. The album as as whole sounds like the world's soft invisible underside. Favorite track: Earthship.
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1.
Mouthpiece 02:28
mouthpiece i never came out of the water i never truly rubbed myself dry i never got cold or tired now i am smooth like a stone i hardly know what happened i hardly broke twice right through the core i never got bent or crooked i was smooth like a stone i told you the house was burning you looked me up and down and shut the door in my face my breath felt like fire i was smooth like a stone noone will ever be loved enough noone will love the woe out of you i dropped my mask and it sits here, waiting smooth like a stone i will rest my head mid-air i will clear out entirely the night will smell like an open door smooth like a stone this is our own undoing you will feel me under your tongue all salt and earth, all hard and heavy smooth like a stone skip me across the water count the times i come crashing down i am skipping myself into oblivion smooth like a stone
2.
Feral 03:33
feral in the confessional load-bearing flowers sprout from the mouth secrets are out and i am feral with love in the back of the car i open the hatch with a quick flick of the wrist and a kick watch us loose all our shit holy ghosts with their split tongues out haunt me dearly for the rest of my days where my legs hardly touch the ground i beg you to sing us once more through the darkness dead fires bring hungry earth back to life dead fires bring hungry earth back to life holy ghosts with their split tongues out haunt me dearly for the rest of my days where my thighs slowly crush storm clouds i beg you to sing us once more through the darkness
3.
Mites 03:47
mites the ringing of absence overpowers every song stab my ears with toothpicks to unhear the prima ballerina twirls into my unknown wearing ragged camouflage to ring in new year i unbelong in the house i burned frankincense didn't sing a single tune all the sweet traditionals tied up with rope in a moldy back room i swallow my way through dinner fished from the poisoned well i feed myself from it daily i know exactly what's rotting in there. you would think either you're alive or you're not and you can't just pick a side and feed the doubts to the dogs i've been crying myself a beautiful fog there are mites in my beehive and they've taken all i got i've always been a scab picking, finger licking, pocket slicing, nickel dropping, floor crawling, ear to the ground kind of girl i scrutinize the body, it keeps getting caught up in love and worship, fishnet, harness, pyramid schemes i am building it a tomb out of tv ads and doom you may seal it with a little spit and a smile i can offer you a spot where my pillow's drenched in snot just let me scoot over a little to the side wish i was a lock-picking, finger sticking socket touching, core fucking, years lost to death and then found kind of girl i monetize the wreck, from the toes up to the neck i am barely moving, yet somehow still a blur you would think either you're alive or you're not and you can't just pick a side and feed the doubts to the dogs i've been crying myself a beautiful fog there are mites in the beehive and they've taken all i got
4.
Archives 03:35
archives i am already somebody's grandmother in a different universe empress of a lifetime of unpaid work dishes stacked high in cabinets housing families of fire bugs staring black-eyed at plates commemorating a royal wedding i am the heiress to a mining empire drilling for love in my friends' chests on television i am a sales person selling impossibilities we are vampire families sucking the life out of each other i just want to dress up as own my worst failures i am a rainy parade of umbrella terms floats made of driftwood i am a bearer of scar tissue holding it up like a flesh colored flag. we are archives. (heavy with life exhaled and bled) we are weightbearers. (we carry your shit to the end of our days) we are archives (searching the stacks for things left unsaid) and we pay with our lives for what we carry (most of my friends are already half dead) i am whoever i am in this sitcom i just stumbled into i am every attempt to break the fourth wall to follow the laugh tracks to the source we are the nails and the hammer we are the walls of the house we are the hospital building i am all those unsettling sounds i have been eyeing the ivy late at night i climb out i have been watching the screens for those lost to be found i am defragmentation i am the whetstone and the knife learned it was never about keeping all of us alive. we are archives. (heavy with life exhaled and bled) we are weightbearers. (we carry your shit to the end of our days) we are archives (searching the stacks for things left unsaid) and we pay with our lives for what we carry (most of my friends are already half dead) my friends were held up at gunpoint i was held up by their arms we are who they called disposable in no uncertain terms i am who is taking the long way who was followed by men i am the keys and the fist for they will follow again i am mold, rot, and rust i have been dying since birth i was buried alive dug myself out of the earth we are the foot and the shovel we are the graves in the park nothing can keep us from singing through the breaking of the heart we are archives. we are weightbearers. we are archives and we pay with our lives for what we carry.
5.
Button 03:29
button you are cute as a button you got two black holes in the middle of your face i can thread my envy through god, i hate the pretty way you move and i will hate the way you move until i am done hating you one of these mornings, all of a sudden i know it’s not your fault they love you so differently than they could ever love me all of us heart stabbers got big old mouths full of sharp tiny knives looking for the most beautiful muscle to bite god, i love the crooked way they smile and i will die a little every time they smile for a little while until most of my fucked up soft spots have hardened i know it’s not your fault they love you so differently than they could ever love me i will sew you to my left sleeve you can be right where the heart sits with all the debris there is no graceful way to wake up in the middle of the night stomach in knots, wondering if they’re thinking of me i promise to myself this too shall pass a note under the door of my shed saying want is a dangerous animal it will eat us alive a couple of times until one day it is fed and if we're lucky we might just live through that i know it’s not your fault they love you so differently than they could ever love me
6.
Bones 02:38
bones i trust you to trust my trust in trusting myself i trust i'll say it over and over again until it means absolutely nothing and it won't hurt no more i wake i wake i wake in the early morning it's a damp, dark time without the glory first light cuts cold into my brittle chest this is no time to be alive breath siphoned into microphones outside the window, there is fire in the pond suppose that's dangerous just let me look a little longer human, human, human bones found in the middle of my home human, human, human bones shed, ejected, dropped, and outgrown two hundred six manifestos bury them, let nobody know human, human, human bones found in the middle of my home i trust me to trust you when i trust noone else i trust this is fucked up, but well, i'll say it over and over again until it means nothing i'll cast the ugly out by repetition i'll shake this body until it listens i'll hold it tight until it cracks and moans and sighs oh, our insides have always been haunted more than our woods and more than our houses circle my gut with table salt i will need your blood to make this call so, maybe stay a little longer human, human, human bones found in the middle of my home human, human, human bones shed, ejected, dropped, and outgrown two hundred six manifestos bury them, let nobody know human, human, human bones found in the middle of my home
7.
Outgoing 03:49
outgoing outgoing messages are closed but just so you know, the front gate's unlocked i won't keep waiting, i'll go on with my night but if you feel those demons sitting on your chest just come on by there will always always always be something on the stove there will always always always be a set of clean clothes and a strand of my hair wrapped loosely around a sleeve like a tricky, stubborn, tender memory i don't want to watch the wound bleed and get bigger while i harvest words from this clumsy little mouth i will dress this chest in nettle and pack it with yarrow open every single door and hatch around this house i got a growth, they call it great big ocean it sits firmly at the top of my spine and if you make a little space for me we can dive in one last time the waves close in on us slowly join hands at the crowns of our heads they will shake this death right out of us i'll take anything else instead
8.
Holy 04:06
holy (holy, holy, holy) 4:30am holds a precious gaping hole holy, holy two fingers below the sternum, holy, holy living off exposure it’s all thirst, hunger, and pointless desire a soft wind blowing around its perimeter holy holy holy i dress it in tight shirts keep it contained holy, holy put a wreath of flowers around its rim holy, holy a close contender for emptiness a soft howl as it consents to try to sleep until morning i’m a vancancy, malcontent holy, holy, holy, holy it whistles as i roll over holy holy, roll over, holy, holy if somebody reaches out they reach in they reach through, holy, holy touch these brittle walls membranes for osmosis holy, holy, holy, holy here is all the gum i swallowed in this life things grown from apple seeds wouldn't survive care to see more of this ragged display? wasn't planning on keeping it to myself anyway empty cocoons of moths stuck to the gut circular scarrings of the sainthood of trust all womanhood submerged in a pool of blood bring a boat and a rope and whatever we are (you can swallow me whole) we are certainly something holy, holy, holy, holy carve a rift into the table midway, holy, holy
if you dare look at me from across your eyes will fall into it they will never meet mine i will never dig a hole two fingers below the sternum to bury myself to be insatiable i can sit here forever pretending to be whole and that’s holy, holy, holy
9.
Earthship 03:25
earthship in an alternate universe i live in the earthship of your heart and the river never truly dries out we can always pump water from underneath our clavicles what if i told you i have always lived in the castle of your spine in one of these silly little twisted spires while you lived in mine you and i combined with everybody out of their goddamn minds noone sells what we're buying guess we'll tug on our own fishing lines may i propose to you, this life with all its nooks and crannies and highs and ugly surprises i got space in mine in a parallel reality i live as alive as i can be got buckets of smiles in the morning i dump out the window into the street but you can come up and have a real good look at the cockroaches behind the fridge bring a couple more of my real good friends the roaches are angry and armed to the teeth and i quiver and i shake most of these nights in a fever that won't break, it just bends it wraps itself tightly across my back reaches around and holds both of my hands this reality is only palpable when expanded if you hear me curse in my sleep just be my friend, yes? through the static i can tell we speak the same fucked up language you and i combined with everybody out of their goddamn minds noone sells what we're buying guess we'll tug on our own fishing lines may i propose to you, this life with all its nooks and crannies and highs and ugly surprises i got space in mine
10.
Wire 04:22
wire babies born from and into light deep shades of vermillion and turpentine lives blossomed come and go in turns you raise what you can in this world i write with cloth covered wires in the walls long forgotten sneaky cursive fire hazards in hopes of feeling it all under the skin the ecstasy, the drop, the routine, the dramamine highly fallible machines a dozen phallic monuments erect on city property whose money is paying for whose wet dreams we come and dig deep holes at night you know i know you know what i mean we got basements filled with dreams, undreamed we are wired to toss and turn in turmoil, unashamed if there's one thing i have learned it is how to poke the fire until i burn i am living in the moment of being slowly ripped open many times, on the the kitchen floor, akimbo, in motion still we gather ourselves to make magic from scratch go begging for the gatekeepers to have our broken backs dress the magic in something a lot more mundane plate me on a stage with soft-spoken restraint i am buzzing head to toe, eye to eye and thumb to tongue i am a live wire in the wall and the flood is coming if there's one thing i have learned it is how to poke the fire until i burn
11.
Machine 01:16
machine we are the big grieving machine come on, throw some pennies in make sure we keep going for nobody knows what comes after we've been trying to keep count of our dead but we haven't even learned how to count that far yet we're still singing the alphabet trying to make sense of zero we are the big grieving machine come on, come on, come along and throw some pennies in make sure we keep going for nobody knows what comes after
12.
Cup 03:36
cup let me drink you up all your bitter parts let me fill your cup the entire fucked up heart let me tell you why every single fire burning in your chest is burning just right now all our brittle little words fold themselves into simple song i have nothing to prove to myself anymore and i have nothing to prove to anyone i am wrong, i am wrong, i am wrong half of the time can i take off my shoes and come inside this half-burned house up in the blackened rafters a couple of crows cackling no love, no gods, no masters i am a slingshot, dear my heart's a steel core pebble let me shoot them down let me unsettle you and all our brittle little words fold themselves into simple song i have nothing to prove to myself anymore and i have nothing so let me drink you up and all your bitter parts let me fill your cup the entire fucked up heart let me tell you why every single fire burning in your chest is burning just right

about

This is Weightbearer.
Weightbearer is an album of twelve songs, written over the last two and a half years. I recorded most and wrote a few of them in early 2022 in between my half-finished paintings at Cité Internationale des Arts in Paris. A couple of songs were recorded in my home in Vienna, Austria, some months before. I can’t remember which ones. Life is a blur.

There are ways how we are supposed to do this whole thing as artists. Find the label, publisher, booker. Pay somebody to sell the music to those who tell you what’s cool. The endless popularity contest, the bending and breaking and never breaking even, the big payments for a small chance at visibility. Performing during an ongoing pandemic to sell t-shirts (the main source of income for most musicians these days), knowing that every performance is a health risk but also a mental lifeline for us and our audience.

Listen, I don’t know what this whole system is supposed to be at this present moment. It all feels wrong and dysfunctional. I am tired and bursting at the seams with song.

I don’t know what I want anymore in this brittle world except make things. I don’t know what I can have. I don’t know what I can ask for. I don’t know what I can take. I don’t know what’s left; it never seems to be enough.
I know this: This is how sound and language exit my body, this is my HOME, in all caps, this is where I belong, this is what I want to do until the end, this is the sound of an enormous wave of grief, life, heartbreak, and the inescapable beauty of it all, moving through me, or vice versa. This is all I have at the present moment. It is called Weightbearer. I just want you to have it. Take it.


If you find something in this that moves you, let others know. Let me know. Give this album a push. Consider paying for the music. Yell it from the rooftops or into the pillow of your life. If you want, you can have it be the pillow of your life for a little while.

Thank you for your support and heart.
This is yours now.

Anna / Squalloscope

I am a good man.
The amount of fear
I am ok with
is insane.
I love many people
who don't love me.
I don't actually know
if that is true.
This is love.
It is a mass of ice
melting. I can't hold
it and I have nowhere
to put it down. 

("Molly Brodak" by Molly Brodak)

credits

released May 6, 2022

Written, recorded, and mixed by Anna Kohlweis / Squalloscope
Artwork by Anna Kohlweis
Mastered by Michael J Collins

Thank you to Aaron Dall, Andy the Doorbum and Michael J Collins for being my extra ears and providing technical feedback/moral support, and to Jeep Halo for coining the phrase "load-bearing flowers" in a conversation about Warhol.
Thank you to the province of Carinthia / Land Kaernten for letting me live, work, and question everything in Paris for half a year.
Thank you to Sandra Immervoll and Michaela Taschek for your friendship throughout the years.
(may i propose to you, this life / with all its nooks and crannies and highs / and ugly surprises / i got space in mine)

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Squalloscope Vienna, Austria

Squalloscope is Anna Kohlweis, who exists as an interdisciplinary artist, illustrator, music producer, composer, singer, and songwriter based in Vienna. This is an intimate endeavour, music that wants to be sung right into your face, bubbling over with imagery and politics, every record an exercise in turning oneself inside out. What else are we here for? ... more

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