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Curious Incidents in Cancel Culture

by Chuckie Campbell

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1.
Verse 1 Your hate is perfect. Your crooked smiles, fake handshakes, lies and doubt, you make it worth it, yeah -- I turn these dive bars to churches. Something dark inside my heart calls this art, but it’s not It’s purpose. I felt it coming in some distant dream -- the ignorant faces, damp and empty streets, eroded trust that lies beneath; I watched your fears grow eyes and teeth, feast and feed upon your weak. This ain’t deep. This is rebel flags and coke rap -- Neo-nazis trolling 4-Chan, They think the earth’s flat. Nah. Active shooters in your church pews, while Fox News reports the alt-facts. You point the finger but that’s dumb. At times, I think this is so wack I wish that I could make this up, but it’s exactly what you want: The shares and likes, designer drugs, some simulated sense of Love. We’ve evolved from Twitter fingers, lost our opposable thumbs. The hum and crank of warm machines, blinding light of brilliant screams, claw and cling to ADHD waking dreams. What’s it mean? A scream’s expressive but fails to form a message. Somehow, we’re more connected but lack human connection. The mind and heart are severed -- No facts, only aesthetics These shadows dance in circles. I wonder if they could hurt us. What’s left? Fair to interpret? Pussy hats and tiki torches? I fear badges more than burkas, faint voices chanting murder, deep state, so deep fake, it’s fake deep, hard to determine. Where do we go from here? What can we salvage?
2.
Swipe Right 04:17
Verse 1 Last night, God spoke to me and touched me in a dream On the surface, I surrendered every burden to my peace Surrounded and unsure, I was uncertain this was sleep I poured bourbon, nursing nerves and worked the words out to a beat A photogenic photo-finish, phoning home E.T., spinning vinyl on a phonograph, foaming at the mouth For every hater acting extra, there’s more love here to be found, learning it’s okay to flash a smile Just how many flowers have to die for your love? Get worked like Rick Wershe doing time for your love? Kyrie Irving flat-earthers telling lies for your love? Tomi Lahren’s on Tinder, swipe right for ya? Falling petals in a summer breeze There’s nothing harder than knowing that you were never free, that this was never deep, that every dream that you ever dreamt may never be Hold up, let me back up, find a place to set a scene It was May when her father took a handful of pills, chased with liquor on that country road driving home, asleep at the wheel Crossed the median, weaving into traffic he lives, but kills a young teen, pregnant with twins The tragic end? Before they gave him life in the pen, he wrote a note to his daughter, shot himself in the head By the roadside vigil where the family had wept, they found his body in a ditch, 2am pronounced... In every human heart, there’s a God-shaped hole We fill it with the drugs and the drank and the gold And, wake up in the morning with no room for our soul It’s funny how crowd makes you feel so alone There will never be enough likes on that post Or a high like that first high from that dope Or a love like that first love just move on Almost no one is awake but everyone’s woke Chorus 1 Just how many flowers have to die for your love? Get worked like Rick Wershe doing time for your love? Kyrie Irving flat-earthers telling lies for your love? Tomi Lahren’s on Tinder, swipe right for ya? But just how many flowers have to die for your love? Move weight like big Pharma getting high for your love? Breitbart and Russian Bots telling lies for your love? Brett Kavanaugh’s on Tinder, swipe right? Verse 2 In the eye of the beholder, they behold us in our lust If we wanted what we needed, we wouldn’t need what we want If we thought as thoughtful thinkers, we wouldn’t think what we thought, thinking thoughts of thoughtful thinkers, not thinking just ‘cause we’re taught To believe in the beliefs we believe in could be in part, bought and based in the belief we believe in, simply because, we believe in the beliefs that we feel that we can belong, and don’t believe in what belongs to the facts, the truth is... harder to believe in the land of fake deep, ‘cause Wikipedia’s as trustworthy now as Wikileaks Dylann Roof is in your church pews with AR-15s, and when this house of cards falls, just repeat after me Falling petals in a summer breeze There’s nothing harder than knowing that you were never free, that this was never deep, that every dream that you ever dreamt may never be Hold up, let me back up, find a place to set a scene It was May when young Johnny declared he’d had enough The older kids had made fun of him, bullied him now for months Called his sister a dirty whore and a hoe and a slut, over some rumor she was pregnant but knew not who the father was, and at lunch, when Johnny took up for his sister, they punched, kicked, and physically beat him up, ‘til he was covered in blood The same night his sister died at the hands of a drunk, he opened up his father’s gun cabinet, reached for a gun In every human heart, there’s a God-shaped hole Johnny filled it with the hate and the pain felt cold Woke up in the morning with no room for his soul and walked into his school, locked and ready to unload There will never be enough guards on that post to revive those who died and have now passed on or a way to make up for or right this wrong Almost no one is awake but everyone’s woke Chorus 2 Just how many flowers have to die for your love? Get worked like Rick Wershe doing time for your love? Kyrie Irving flat-earthers telling lies for your love? Tomi Lahren’s on Tinder, swipe right for ya? But just how many flowers have to die for your love? Get shot like Nipsey Hustle trying to rhyme for your love? Alex Jones getting canceled telling lies for your love? Kevin Spacey’s on Tinder, swipe right?
3.
Basic 03:11
Verse 1 Okay, Boomer! I might need you to sit back and chill The future is supercomputers that automate driverless automobiles What could be real if truth is a product of how many bots have clicked on a link? They say they want all of smoke, but trust me they don’t ‘Cause this isn’t deep Chorus 1 You’re basic You’re basic You’re basic You’re Karen, You’re Katie You’re Annie, You’re Amy You’re Barbara, Jennifer, Becky, and Stacey A copy, a clone of bad information Dated and old and uneducated An antique, a relic of past generations A follower following followers, nah You’re basic You’re basic You’re basic You’re Karen, You’re Katie You’re Annie, You’re Amy You’re Barbara, Jennifer, Becky, and Stacey A copy, a clone, not even a selfie A faker, an actor, you’re youtuber famous A lame and a poser so shallow and vacant A follower following followers, nah Verse 2 Are we empty and hollow inside? We can run but there’s nowhere to hide Tell ourselves that we’re living our best life but really we don’t feel alive What we do for a share or a like Uggs or an Uber in simply swipe Think we can google the answers despite, hacking computers for data to mine, algorithms, search engine design More information than ever before, less prepared to detect all the lies While it’s true that these Boomers are clueless and scared of the future that left them behind, we’re no better, if based on the world they created, we’re wasted and basic and blind Chorus 2 You’re basic You’re basic You’re basic You’re Karen, You’re Katie You’re Annie, You’re Amy You’re Barbara, Jennifer, Becky, and Stacey A copy, a clone, not even a selfie A faker, an actor, you’re youtuber famous A lame and a poser so shallow and vacant A follower following followers, nah You’re basic You’re basic You’re basic You’re Karen, You’re Katie You’re Annie, You’re Amy You’re Barbara, Jennifer, Becky, and Stacey A copy, a clone of bad information Dated and old and uneducated An antique, a relic of past generations A follower following followers, nah Verse 3 Generations are stuck in a rut The young blame it all on the old Old blame it back on the young but it’s too basic to blame anyone, harder to face it and learn from mistakes that have made it the basis of what we become Are Democrats liberal cucks? Are Republicans racist and dumb? When neither are willing to do what it takes to confront what is darker in us? Say pull yourself up by your bootstraps We’re distracted by youtube and phone apps but you’re stuck in an era that’s long past and fake news keeps feeding alt facts so afraid you believe in the false flags Chorus 3 You’re basic You’re basic You’re basic You’re Karen, You’re Katie You’re Annie, You’re Amy You’re Barbara, Jennifer, Becky, and Stacey A copy, a clone of bad information Dated and old and uneducated An antique, a relic of past generations A follower following followers, nah You’re basic You’re basic You’re basic You’re Karen, You’re Katie You’re Annie, You’re Amy You’re Barbara, Jennifer, Becky, and Stacey A copy, a clone, not even a selfie A faker, an actor, you’re youtuber famous A lame and a poser so shallow and vacant A follower following followers, nah
4.
Covfefe 01:21
Chorus 1 Cov Covfefe Cov Cov Covfefe Cov Cov Cov Covfefe Cov Coverage on the TV You don’t, You don’t want the truth You want hate and envy, intriguing entertainment over info in the evening Verse 1 I admit it All my heroes are dead, crying Jordans, essential workers sporting face masks, avoiding Covid, Quarantined, injecting disinfectant, executive order Feeling cute, might flush this toilet paper down the toilet, aye Deported at the border, aye Contagious as the ‘rona, aye Rogue as a reporter, aye quoting Joe Rogan, aye Twitter avatars are covert Russian decoys Off they meds like Kanye West saying slavery’s a…. Trapped inside the dream of a tortured but “stable genius,” flames burn apocalyptic: koalas and eucalyptus While the boss of the Apprentice forms pandemic response, Craig gets fired on a Friday stealing boxes on his day off Makes more on unemployment than the moment he was laid off exposing just how phony it can be to work a day job I ponder just what it would take to make you see this clearly New normal isn’t new You’ve just chosen not to see it We reach up as we read up, re-up points of view, separate what feels good from what is really true Chorus 2 Cov Covfefe Cov Cov Covfefe Cov Cov Cov Covfefe Cov Coverage on the TV You don’t, You don’t want the truth You want hate and envy, intriguing entertainment over info in the evening
5.
Verse 1 Now put your hands high It’s clear we do this ‘cause we love it Whether rhyming in the street or on tour across the country Visco girls riding hoverboards and hipsters by the hundreds, know we do this for the music, not the fame and not the money It’s my honor as a guest in this house of hip hop to give back what I’ve been given to this culture and art While local heroes in your hometown are rapping over vocals, photoshopping totals for their Spotify numbers, every line here is a tear I’ve been holding in for years, love rap like Brett Kavanaugh claims to love beer Like Cosby loves Quaaludes, some wounds may never heal and some legacies should die, despite shoes we’ll never fill Every blog, woke, twitter, coke rapper from the hood, confuse the right to their opinion for being true or understood, and though it probably could, and most likely it should, just because something is popular, doesn’t mean that it’s good, say word Verse 2 What a time to be alive or at least inside your bubble Echo chambers clip language, pills and pilsners that numb us Like tiny russian dolls one stacked inside the other, each doll’s another tale from the depths of cancel culture Fake news on social media got boomers building bunkers They’re chanting build the wall El Chapo is digging tunnels Makes you wonder which celebrity’s next to be confronted, labeled predator and outed by the sexually assaulted Please believe victims, listen close and stay woke At times the worst thing we can say is I don’t know Beware to blame the victim, shaming everybody else, for we often see in others what we deny in ourselves Perhaps, this is my sixth... maybe my seventh sense, an Edgar Cayce vision beneath the paw of the Sphinx Like a joke by Mitch Hedberg, it takes time to sink in, or if we’re honest, we admit that it’s really just common sense, say word
6.
Verse 1 This is not art These are shapeless shapes A feeling in my heart, I could never erase My inner-child I seduced, carved out with a blade, sacrificed to the false gods of fake outrage, but all you want is a hot take, headline, soundbite, something for click bait, dark web, deep state, bitcoin blockchain, CIA phone tap, IOS update Nah, giant steps like Coltrain Harden with the step back from three-point range Travel... more than the norm I emerge from the snow with a section of horns Tour... bear with and bask in, the bars and the bapkins and Maravich backspin back when the bandwagon meant more than bandwidth, the band packed bags in the back of the van with kind of backpack boom bap backspins B-boy backflips on cardboard canvas I blackout, backtrack, time moves backward An abstract flashback circa nostalgia Blackball red snapbacks and MAGA Global pandemics cancel march madness Mumble rap, fidget spinners, Apps and onesies Every rapper in the game want participation trophies Verse 2 On America’s Next Celebrity Sex Predator, President-elect turns primetime competitor when boss of The Apprentice dismisses all fact-checkers and heckles the free press to new and disturbing levels... Grab’em by the pussy! Beta males spike drinks, date rape, bully, and roofie all Eyes Wide Shut streaming Pornhub movies Jeff Epstein suicide with makeshift nooses... Dark but not that deep Spring break quarantine on a Florida beach Soaking up sunbeams and some Covid-19, praying to the gods of almighty 5G... Woke Cup half empty Black-White Supremacy, blind as Clayton Bigsby walking through the sunken place unable to distinguish, an angry flat-earther from the rapper Slim Jesus Social engineering consensus Tumbler, Tick Tok, Twitter, and Tinder Share, swipe right, like, comment, and censor Dopamine addict, social media bender As long as you can keep the appropriate social distance, right about now’s the perfect time to be offended: Alt-facts podcasts, haters and homies, when every rapper in the game want participation trophies Verse 3 Just when things felt like they might make sense, an anchor on the news pronounced Lakers with an N, as Kobe Bryant dies in some terrifying twist in a helicopter crash on the way to the gym... Tears The Universe bends uniquely toward justice, whatever that is, when police point pistols at innocent black kids, pull the trigger, blow they head off and never see prison... Listen Witnesses align, protest, testify, even live-stream the officer on facebook live, Yet the case is dismissed and can never be tried: Acquitted all charges; committed no crime The kind of real pain that you just can’t hide Choked up, doubled over, liquor hits the stomach nursing an ulcer, Curious the incidents In Cancel Culture

about

If music is indeed an attempt to capture a moment in time, Chuckie Campbell's Curious Incidents in Cancel Culture is a time capsule of disillusionment as the world walks us through the upside down. Produced entirely by Willie Breeding, the 6-song project's soundscape is lo-fi and gritty, acting as a testing ground for Campbell's commentary on everyone and everything. It gives us Kobe Bryant’s death by helicopter, a global pandemic that cancels march madness, and a post-apocalyptic landscape where the boss of “The Apprentice” is elected president. From Harvey Weinstein to Tomi Lahren, Rick Wershe to Kyrie Irving, from fake news to flat earthers, opioid addiction to school shootings, baby boomers to millennials, pussy hats to tiki torches — it’s all there — and presents itself as a collection of existential absurdities with a flare of black humor and 'esprit d'escalier, the predicament of thinking of the perfect reply too late.

credits

released July 15, 2020

All songs written and performed by Chuckie Campbell for Sunsets and Silencers Music, Buffalo, NY.

Scratches and cuts on the song "Cancel Culture" done by DJ Uncle Fester out of Toronto, ON

Scratches and cuts on "Participation Trophies" done by DJ Optimus Prime out of Buffalo, NY.

Produced, and mixed at True Blue Recording by Willie Breeding in Nashville, TN.

Mastering by Paul Redel in Los Angeles, CA.

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Chuckie Campbell Buffalo, New York

Chuckie Campbell is an American hip hop artist who lives in Buffalo, NY. Campbell commonly performs with a live band (drums, keys, and a full horn section), to make for a dynamic, powerful, and eclectic approach to hip hop, filled with fluid instrumentation, lush musical arrangements, and heartfelt poetic nuance. ... more

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