Song: Bike (part 1, part 2)

Album: cLOUDDEAD (2001)

Also on single Bike (2001)

Dose One, Sole (Anticon), DJ Signify, Illogic and Mr. Dibbs on this release. the whole cloudhead series (#1- #5) kick. Great underground Hip Hop

Really trying to pinpoint this albums genre and influences will drive you crazy. they sound like no one and for me, thats the kick. as any one who has done any reading on clouddead knows, this cd is comprised of 6 10" records for a total of 12 songs. each suite features a guest. illogic is on 'apt. a', 'and all you can do is laugh' has dj signify scratching and cutting up vocal samples, 'i promise to never get paint on my glasses' has sole, the wolf brothers add live drums, guitar and organ to 'jimmybreeze', 'cloud dead #5' features cuts from mr. dibbs, and finally, 'bike' features all sorts of weirdness from the bay area animals. the entire record was made with a dr. sample, a radioshack mic, an eight track, and various instruments, etc. this record is one of the best arguments i've heard for the term "less is more". the magazine and website Lifesucksdie has stated that cLOUDDEAD "as close as you can get to a description of what doing whippets sounds like", and thats not a false statement by a long shot. i'd classify this album as hip hop but you're just as likely to find it in the 'indie rock' or 'electronica' bins at the record store. i cant totally recomend this to everyone but I can guarentee that any anticon followers or brave hip hop listeners will get something out of this.


edison, i've fixed my glasses like new!

dose one:
wishing coins well, off into the bad sleep well.

reaching to quiet the man made of metal and brick.

dose one:
sleeping in woman's clothes, naked walls filling my eyes.

kneading the knotted, cramped muscles; the head of a nut.

dose one:
holding my place in a necklace collection, whala!

scraping the hardened, dead mortar from under my nails.

dose one:
weeding out sounding like movies, why i'd rather read.

sparring the volunteer flower, the beautiful guest.

dose one:
greetings, my god given name is adam in love.

edison, i've fixed my glasses like new!

dose one:
wishing coins well, off into the bad sleep well.

dose one, why?:
de, sha, vu. cats, clipped, whiskers, x.

dose one:
dear jon,
she's no longer calling, and the sun just keeps coming up.

dear adam,
i'm dropping out of art school.
i'm thinking of becoming a machete man in the rainforest.

dose one:
my box is made, the pills erect, it's one cut cookie syndrome.
the pill that's huge and swallows other pills.
it's jar bottom right below me, and not a spot of cork above,
why can i barely see exactly where the loop is marked?
it cuts in, i cut out, pidagurpidagle says hello,
and hunts the pilot light within the heater monolith she prays to.

art museums make me want to kill myself,
i understand now why pidagurpidagle pulls on the door
even when she knows it's locked shut.
people surround themselves with pets
to deny the fact that they're alone, most of the time.
"stop the world, i want off."
-easy axess.

are you scared the album will end before the doorbell rings,
and you'll be left to greet your guests
with a tied tongue, cold lunch, and spent wick candle?

dose one:
looking for an explanation everywhere except in.
as i stuff my face from dirty pot,
and greasy spoon, and sweaty peas, and buttered rice,
and the water's running. i think ribs like rosebush branches.
flies in eyes, the corners of, and sally struthers don't be depressed.
i've made it to the mystery of mona lisa's mouth.

the streets smell like beer and exhaust this christmas.
don't be depressed, but no one wants to rent movies
to an out-of-towner without a credit card.
i did nothing today, but walk a blind man to his bus stop.


dose one, why?:
as the floor boards creek and the pipes ping and pong beneath you...

dose one, why?:
mother nature made the aeroplane, and the submarine sandwich,
with the steady hands and dead eye of a remarkable sculptor.
she shed her mountain turning training wheels
for the convenience of the moving sidewalk,
that delivers the magnetic monkey children
through the mouth of impossible calendar clock,
into the devil's manhole cauldron.
physics of a bicycle, isn't it remarkable?

physics of a bicycle, isn't it remarkable?
and turns our friends and family into cold hard cash.
it was our idea first to put dead whales on the roadside,
i am fresh dirt, grab your hoe and rake and shake the earth.
i caught you looking like a barbed-wire fire escape.
i've been an ex-president since the day i was born.
what do you call a three-legged dog? lucky.
doesn't mean it's all valour and vagina.
just because i've got poet head and write all the time,
you bring tears to my ever-dry eyes.

the dead dog, on the shoulder of 71,
here's where the flies come in.
this is where the flies come in.

the fat man's drenched hat crumpled in a shivering fist,
he's lost the whole house from around him.
every single shingle shattered into atoms.
only he remains, standing circumcised on torn earth,
where his living room once was stripped to his skin
with a wet hate in his right hand.

dose one:
umbrella inverted and undressed,
stuffed in the top of a trash can.
'right as rain' spokes reach,
grabbing coats and poking pocket books.
its dress is torn to one last spoke.
it pours a sliding sheet of rain over the side, over the side.

the cracked earth cow-skull dirt in a no-cloud blue sky capsule,
leaks out the ozone's bald spot along with your brand new closed curtains,
a dozen frozen roses and cozmo, the thumbed cat.

dose one, why?:
2 women walk up to a penny.
one says, 'oh look a penny.'
then the other one says, 'oh, it's a lucky one.'
then the one goes, 'no it isn't.'
and they both walk off.

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