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Out To Sea

by Chris Orrick

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1.
Out To Sea 02:19
We can start at the beginning, we can start at the end We can do the things we want or be a part of the trend So here I am, all alone, all afloat on a boat In the middle of the ocean with no destination known I got my tiki cup, I got my stash of rum I got this silly brain of mine I know I have to numb I let the stars above become my guide, enjoy the ride I got my fishing rod, the wish of god is by my side I got a compass, I have studied all the shifting tides I got a notebook and the thoughts of mine that live inside I have escaped the daily grind and getting paid for time Time is never of the essence I don't pay it mind I follow daylight and the coming of the rising moon Searching for my paradise, I hope to find it soon But I have no need or no love for cartographers I am a servant to the ocean so I follow her North, West, South, East I used to be the type that would get sea sick I found that fighting it was not the way to treat it In shallow water I can anchor down and have a swim I learned when someone drowns it's usually from panicking I'm trying to stay the course and stay away from shorelines I like to be alone, be unconcerned with your shine The sun it shines abundant, use it as a resource Stock it up and use when you have a need for it I put my letters in a bottle if you find one Take it out and then replace it with some fine rum Put it back to sea and hope that it gets back to me Hope my story ends in such a fashion that it's happily I put my eyes to rest tonight and listen to the waves Red sky in the morning and I won't be saved As the hurricane approaches I have found some peace This will be my final letter while I'm out to sea
2.
Funny Things (free) 03:43
I like funny people, funny faces, saying funny things While I'm laughing so hysterically I spill my funny drink With this funny chemical that makes me feel funny things Instead of all this sad shit, in my funny fucking mind And I'm struggling so desperately to block it out and try To close the skin flaps that cover up my funny looking eyes So I don't have to think about this funny little country With funny little slips of paper that we call our money With funny looking men who wore very funny wigs That we obtain by doing variously gigs And the government is funny cuz they take a little portion Then they spend it all on war and make us fight about abortion And don't forget about the funny guns We give to funny men who think it's funny watching children run And other funny men go on their funny little shows And think it's funny that they way to fix it won't ever be known It's funny, everything is funny Everything is funny, Everything is funny Come on everybody! Everything is funny, everything is funny Everything is funny! When everything is funny, it's easier to think about the world's greatest country I find it all hilarious, absolutely nothing going on could be nefarious It's all so very comical, don't believe your eyes guys, none of this is possible It's worthy of some knee slapping, only question that I have is: Why aren't you laughing? I think it's funny how much fun it is we're all having together Doing funny things while up above is very funny weather That funnily enough keeps getting funnier and funnier It's funner when it's warm outside, it's funner when it's sunnier It's funny when the earth is screaming, "Stop this isn't funny!" And all the scientists with all their funny little studies It's funny how much people don't find any of this funny Maybe I'm the funny dummy and the rest of them are lucky Why aren't you laughing at the funny things? The jester's in on the joke, see he's laughing with the funny king Who rallies up his base, that isn't actual hate in him Casual racism isn't actual racism And red pillers just want to know how to date women The crazies on the fringe, it's the radicals who hate women Relax buddy you're about to come unglued If you weren't so fucking stuck up you might find it funny too It's funny, everything is funny Everything is funny, Everything is funny Come on everybody! Everything is funny, everything is funny Everything is funny! When everything is funny, it's easier to think about the world's greatest country I find it all hilarious, absolutely nothing going on could be nefarious It's all so very comical, don't believe your eyes guys, none of this is possible It's worthy of some knee slapping, only question that I have is: Why aren't you laughing?
3.
Ten o'clock on the dot running out of booze Only got a couple shots plus I need some food Grab my wallet, grab my keys then put on my shoes Hit the door, liquor store, yes I got the blues I don't know if I'm okay enough to drive And if I gotta ask that I probably shouldn't drive Here we go, gas pedal, only got a couple blocks Liquid confidence, motherfuck the cops Do that liquor store hustle Parking lot, park the car, yeah I made it this far Struggling, stumble in, this shouldn't be this hard Fluorescent, four seconds in, this is a mistake Imaginary line on the floor for me to fixate Headed straight for the snack aisle They don't notice, nothing weird just another fat guy Grab some food, grab some booze, pay the man and leave Victory is mine and the mission is complete Do that liquor store hustle Back home, driveway, breathing out relief Cops - 0 Chris - 1, relish their defeat Inside pour a drink, microwave the pizza rolls Yes I am a man child, love me or leave me alone Preferably the latter Getting older, getting sadder, getting fatter Television Pawn Stars, I don't even like this show Two hours late and I'm on the seventh episode Do that liquor store hustle Now it's twelve o'clock, still hungry, drunker than a skunk Pizza place, call them up, they don't close till one You remember large with banana pepper rings Pepperoni, ranch dressing and a side of wings Yeah, look what this world did to us Hour later, on the couch, passed out still sitting up Pizza man is in the window, banging on the door I paid with a credit card, leave it on the porch Do that liquor store hustle Waking up 6AM, TV at a hundred still Lights on, crack of dawn, fuck man I'm hungry still Light bulb, great idea, pizza on the front porch Fuck you it's cold enough, yes I'm gonna eat that shit Untouched, unscathed, I believe in miracles Can't think of words that rhyme with miracle Ate it cold in the box then went straight to bed At thirty years, honestly, I call that success
4.
I'm trying to put a finger on it, trying not to dwell Exactly what decision had me wind up in this hell? Caught up in it, I don't know if I could even change If I wanted, can't even put it on this page All this pain, all this doubt, all these walls that I've built All my life, all I've wanted about to go unfulfilled Everything that I've dreamed of And everything that I thought had to mean something But here we go again with this pen and my mind Never ends, never stops, never slows by design And I can't wake up every Monday morning Feeling like a ton of bricks and to underscore Got people calling me, checking in How much longer does it follow me? How much longer can it go like this? My soul might quit Better get a hold right quick I've spent a lot of time Trying to figure out the ways of the earth Rearrange what I'm worth Trying to figure how to pay back a dime Trying to save me some time Busy trying to explain myself Or rearrange myself Trying to tell me that the payments up I think I've paid enough I need a chaser to chase it away This can't be the face that I face every day A mountain of doubt, a mountain of debt I see what I've done has amounted to death Might hit the exit early, I'd rather sleep instead Of me caught up in the thoughts racing through my head Cuz this could be the last thing I write It's last call, let's go, last for the night It's past time I've been on my last dime Trying to flip a miracle and turn this water to wine Could stretch a dollar around the world if I had to But turn a dollar into ten is what I can't do I'm good at being broke, getting better with time Might as well accept it I've spent a lot of time Trying to figure out the ways of the earth Rearrange what I'm worth Trying to figure how to pay back a dime Trying to save me some time Busy trying to explain myself Or rearrange myself Trying to tell me that the payments up I think I've paid enough Time is money, where'd the time go? Low end theory for the high notes Dirty money, no Soprano You're born broke, you die broke Turn a dollar into fame Turn a dollar into change Watch a dollar go insane What's a dollar gonna change? I've spent a lot of time Trying to figure out the ways of the earth Rearrange what I'm worth Trying to figure how to pay back a dime Trying to save me some time Busy trying to explain myself Or rearrange myself Trying to tell me that the payments up I think I've paid enough
5.
A Dying Man (free) 03:32
Chris Orrick: Let me put the pieces of myself that I don't need In a closet with a lock, let you take away the key Let it be, let it wallow, never let me look inside Tell me later when I ask that those pieces of me died So you took them, never told me, thinking I was better off I'd forgotten they existed, you can't lose what's never lost When it leaves, let it go, just remember how you fought Maybe later when it's quiet you and I should have a talk She said, "really, I just wanna dance" Good and evil matched perfect, that's a great romance And listen, I can deal with some psychic pain If it'll help me put a slow down on my higher brain I got a body full of poison, disappearing drink And later on I'll vomit in the kitchen sink Lately disconnected from the missing link But, what would they think? Chorus: "This is not my life It's just a fond farewell to a friend It's not what I'm like It's just a fond farewell to a friend Who couldn't get things right A fond farewell to a friend This is not my life It's just a fond farewell to a friend" Chris Orrick: You can't tell me what I know, when I've known it all along There's a part of me that's missing and I notice when it's gone When it's quiet and I'm tired, but I'll never fall asleep Cuz you speak in a whisper, soon enough it turns to screams And you beg and you ask for the fix, for the silence And you plead and you punish for the act of my defiance And you blame and you tell me that I'm nothing, that I've failed Then you question if I'm loyal, had enough of that betrayal I can see now that you're leaving me Find yourself alone to take up with the enemy The cold comfort of the in between Just a little less than a human being Just a little less than a happy high Just a little less than a suicide The only things you've ever truly tried Chorus: "This is not my life It's just a fond farewell to a friend It's not what I'm like It's just a fond farewell to a friend Who couldn't get things right A fond farewell to a friend This is not my life It's just a fond farewell to a friend"
6.
I hope you got a sturdy soap box for me to climb on A hill that's tall enough for me to fucking die on A big ass box of tissue paper I can cry on My own very personal cable news chyron Was it a certain subject that I crossed the line on? Check the replay from the camera in pylon Too tough to tackle an issue, well help me pile on Politics that's negatively charged, that's anion If you don't like it well, buddy, you can delete me Press that unfollow button, like when do we speak? My Facebook wall was not designed for your graffiti So please leave and be brief while I grab my squeegee Scrubbing every open window of your presence My pity party did not ask for your attendance I'm blocking your existence, if you feel offended I hope you find relief in my impending obsolescence I feel very fine when America's online So many things to choose, from recipes to news I never waste my time when America's online Some friends you can engage with, invite them to your page I never lose my mind when America's online A life is meant for sharing, the people are so caring A whole new world to find when America's online When America's online I had to unfollow your mom because she's awful Cherry picks the bible but a Facebook meme is gospel How did the comment sections get so weird and hostile? The links a fucking recipe to Kafka and falafel Will someone please figure out this great debacle Before humanity is ripped apart and toppled Before white people lose control, show us their collective soul And elect a dude who calls himself "The Donald" All the world's knowledge is sitting in our pockets And there's still people out there who don't believe in fossils Instagram models, playing Facebook Aristotle For adoring apostles, I'll rather play opossum Most of my time spent online is feeling rotten And I admit that I'm huge part of the problem Arguing for nothing, braggadocio and ratios I'm just gonna hang out with Pistachio I feel very fine when America's online So many things to choose, from recipes to news I never waste my time when America's online Some friends you can engage with, invite them to your page I never lose my mind when America's online A life is meant for sharing, the people are so caring A whole new world to find when America's online When America's online
7.
Wallow Hard 02:27
I saw a critic say I wallow too hard, took it personal I love this shit with all of my heart It's like, right from the start what I would write in my art I was too afraid to talk about, afraid to even think So, I took it like a fucking knife to the heart I know most people won't treat it with that same type of regard They got a job to do and I don't blame them for it End of the day I'm just a dude who writes and tape records it Guess I got lucky that somebody pays me for it And looking at sales he might be fucking crazy for it But I'm just sick of spinning my wheels Older I get the more the shit's getting real It's like, how much longer can the party last? Seeing people in their thirties having heart attacks I should be thinking about a mortgage Couldn't do it with my credit even if I could afford it Spending hours in my head, trying to figure what's important To get my life sorted I might have to let the dream die Knowing there's a version of me somewhere in my twenties Looking at me thinking, "What the fuck, is he high?" Or me at sixteen printing out the CD labels Making shirts with the iron on the table I remember listening to Eminem and Royce Being proud thinking no one does it better than Detroit Just a kid Out there looking for his voice, taught myself how to rap Never had a choice Now I'm writing this like does it even have a point? Just a way for me to vent, help me filter out the noise? You know that feeling on a Sunday when a Monday's coming? That dream where you're fighting for your life? And you strike and you hit them with a left, then a right Landing punch after punch But it feels like nothing I don't know.
8.
Daylight 03:25
You my friend got some learning to do High expectations affirming your truth Your truth is a liar, see your pants been on fire And you can't see beyond your funeral pyre Your usual ire is directed at self Inwards you look, in words you tell Everyone your thoughts, everybody your dreams Your dream it seems might be out of your reach Alarm clock you're on your final snooze Hard knocks, might be your time to lose But losing might not be what you think Might just be the best for you, you could find a new thing It can be confusing, find yourself refusing To believe that moving on is improving on Everything that you've done, everywhere that you've been But who do I think I'm fooling? Because I know I got some problems with the daylight But I still think on my way right Somebody tell me I'm okay, right? I'm okay, right? Back then you would never let this even be an option You would not accept this, feckless Old you probably woulda told you This is what you're meant for, you remember, don't you? Mixtapes, sitting in the basement, chasing all roads You've become complacent, face it, follow Your heart, your brain lies to you All those faces your art changes Meet somewhere in the past when, back then We see a future, time's what you had then Have now, ten years you can reflect on Let dawn be the day, daylight lead the way And you my friend got more learning to do But you friend still got a burning in you And you spend all day searching for truth So my friend, I've been searching for you Because I know I got some problems with the daylight But I still think on my way right Somebody tell me I'm okay, right I'm okay, right? Spending all your time in the dark Where your heart can't grow And you might go blind Spending all your energy on shade Been an enemy to daylight Fight that shine You can find a match in the room You know what to do Live a life that's plain Or you can drag that match on the flint Get a candle stick And ignite that flame Because I know I got some problems with the daylight But I still think on my way right Somebody tell me I'm okay, right? I'm okay, right?
9.
Flesh & Bone 02:59
out of space - out of time - out of place - out of mind i do not - identify - with any of - this energy out to sea - woe is me - hopefully - the end of me speaking of - reaching out - to anyone - in need of love even if - we don't speak - we don't see - eye to eye idolize - I devise - proper planning - patiently wait and see - show and prove - born to lose - born to die born into - all of this - politics - hollow tips fellowship - fellow friends - fellow, me - lend an ear lend a hand - helping hand - fellow man - fellow being developing - dialogue - dive into it - fellow cog the machine - grinds us up - spits us out - flesh & bone flesh is shredded - college debted - all affected - all regret it everything - all the time - overwhelmed - trying to sell put a price - tag it up - bag it up - born to fail how are you? - doing well? - maybe not - that's okay we're gonna figure this out you and me, we're gonna figure this out this is bigger than doubt you feel the rain when it's pummeling down waiting on a break in the clouds honestly - i'm at fault - take the fall - blame it on pay it forward - falling down - tripping up - all around this is me - this is them - this is you - this is us meet me in - temecula - what'd he say? - fisticuffs lifting up - cushions on - couches find - plenty dimes so much time - wasted on - being wasted - wasted dreams i can't write - fast enough - to keep up - with these words seen it on - cnn - fox nope - msn bc - before christ - after death - millenial we destroyed - america - eating raw - vegetables head is full - fill it up - pile it on - shove it down take a shot - shoot it up - i don't know - what's in my cup wifi - cable here - need another - outlet battery - life is low - straight ahead - found dead hey i'm chris - it has been - very nice - knowing you i can hope - you feel the - same as me - don't you? we're gonna figure this out you and me, we're gonna figure this out this is bigger than doubt you feel the rain when it's pummeling down waiting on a break in the clouds when it all - seems to be - out of reach - out of time down the line - it will seem - less and less - that it mattered factor in - what's at stake - what's at play - mad as sin calm as love - open doors - welcome in - have a seat let it be - what it was - what it is - what it will nothing kills - only change - i believe - it'll get figured out - maybe not - either way - we're okay i can promise - if in doubt - everything - has a meaning

about

Let’s offer a toast to the return of Chris Orrick, rap’s poet laureate of imperial decline. It’s springtime in the dystopia, the birds are coughing up blood, the bees are dying at an alarming rate, and Michigan’s most acerbic misanthrope has emerged from winter hibernation with a clutch of doomed stanzas about cold pizza and liver destruction. His latest for Mello Music Group, Out to Sea, might not be easy listening, but it’s impossible to ignore.

Consider Orrick the wry heir to the morbid humor of Mitch Hedberg, the barfly blues of Charles Bukowski, and the caustic rust belt satire of Michael Moore. He’s an iconoclast from a proud tradition—a thoughtful and sensitive realist who uses laughter as a way to stifle the tears. The album begins with an act of contrition: a disembodied voice shakily addresses an audience: “if I brought you down, thank you very much for showing me where I’m at. I guess I don’t really have much more to do.”

But it’s more than words, as it usually is. The voice wobbles into a weird space, trembling and swaying, unsure whether it’s about to crack up or weep inconsolably. The audience doesn’t seem to know what to do—nervously giggling and half-groaning. Then he continues, “if you don’t want me to continue then I guess I won’t.” Before it fades out, he again adds, “thank you for showing me where I’m at.”

It’s testament to Orrick’s self-lacerating genius that he can’t offer anything less than uncomfortable, sliced-to-the-marrow honesty. This is where he’s at and there is never a second of subterfuge. He will be the first to call himself a drunken, overweight Midwesterner riddled with social anxiety, consumed by fear and loathing, whose primary gift and weapon is writing songs and tape recording them.

If it hurts to listen to this record, it should. It’s an anvil-split hangover, a brutal unflinching document of a 30-year old man terrified that these words could be his last. He’s watched too many friends die young of heart attacks and overdoses, cancer and suicide. He tries to numb himself because he feels too much. He is too self-aware for self-pity, but too set in his ways to change. This is reality rap of a different strain—one that lives up to Prodigy’s axiom to put “your lifetime between the paper lines.”

Out to Sea began without any overarching ideas—writing as a way of figuring out what he needed to say and as a form of catharsis. Themes of stormy weather and disastrous climate started to materialize from the fog of word. It was an easy leap to link them with mental illness and the diseased discourse that has infected the political climate in the Trump era. Out to Sea is an attempt to communicate beyond reductive binaries—not some naïve both-sides-ism bullshit but a fragile and lasting document sketched through a vale of sadness and a haunted concern for humanity.

There are, of course, the songs, messages in a bottle that alternate between comic sketches and S.O.S flares. It starts “Out to Sea,” a rum-soaked missive about being alienated from society.” “Funny Things” is a poison pill slipped to the far right, who offer mean-spirited jokes throughout our downward spiral. “Liquor Store Hustle” is a hilarious vignette about a corner store run to buy the most disgusting food that you’d drunkenly want to eat. While “A Dying Man” artfully interpolates Elliott Smith’s “Fond Farewell,” a harrowing portrait of substance abuse. The most devastating of all might be “Wallow Hard,” where Orrick stares into the abyss, considering whether all of this effort has been a waste, and assessing whether he should just give up the ghost or become one himself.

In the hands of a lesser artist, these are themes and moments that could seem melodramatic or overwrought but with Orrick, there is a rare sense of consequences and lament, a brilliant gift for dark poesy and sly self-deprecating humor. It is music to cope and as a form of survival, a chance to find meaning in a world that frequently seems bereft of it—a record that will leave you shaken to the core, reconsidering the radiation and delirium that gradually has consumed modern life. If we still exist in a few decades, we will be able to return to Out to Sea, and listen to the soundtrack of a society that seems hopelessly adrift

credits

released May 24, 2019

Recorded by Charlie Beans for Five30 Music
Mixed by Magnetic
Mastered by Joe Hutchinson
Graphic Design Austin Hart

Thank you to Kath, Dad, Mom, Steve, Mike, Jay, Mello, Austin, Charlie, Tim, Mags, Joe Hutchinson, Nolan, Suhki, S I M, Manley and Alcapella.

Executive Producer Michael Tolle

This album is dedicated to the damage done by the 2016 United States Presidential Election, Social Media and the 24 Hour News Cycle.


Sounds Beautiful Like The Truth
Mello Music Group, 2019

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Chris Orrick Detroit, Michigan

Chris Orrick is the patron saint of a poisoned world. The blue-collar MC writes spiteful chants for the permanently scarred, death letters for the forgotten, surly hymns for charcoal lungs. Think Bukowski on an eloquent bender, swapping wine for whiskey, a notepad for a glowing LED screen, the race track for the recording booth. These are anthems for the irate, over-educated and under-valued. ... more

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