A Verbal Fig Leaf · Track 40 · middle
Velvet Buzzsaw
Velvet Buzzsaw (modern) — Soft and dangerous at once. Somebody was still trying. VOLUME: IV. THE LOCKER ROOM, 1900–1999. THE DODGE THIS ERA: The dodge stops being clever. Nobody is hiding from God or the parlour now — they're avoiding MIXED COMPANY, and the wit drains out. These are funny the way a nudge is funny. That's the point: the invention is going, and this volume should feel a bit dumber than the last on purpose. Sing the AVOIDANCE, never the anatomy.
No audio yet — generation pending.
Lyrics
Quarter to five on a Friday in '88 The blue Makita goes quiet, we're locking the gate Tommy leans back on the breakroom Formica Dying to brag about a midnight arrival But the foreman's young kid is sweeping the floor So Tommy checks the shadows just outside the door His jaw locks for a second, the brain hits a wall He grabs the cheapest metaphor to cover it all He says he tangled with the velvet buzzsaw Yeah, she hums like an engine when you pull on the line Soft on the casing but she wrecks your design The deadliest machinery a dollar could draw It’s a clumsy collision of a fabric and a blade But the boys in the shop understand how it’s played Yeah, the velvet buzzsaw. The kid with the broom looks up from the dust Asks if the safety guard is prone to rust Tommy winks at the guys, taps his styrofoam cup Says, "Son, it’s not the kind of rig you just boot up. It takes a delicate touch on the primary gear, You push it too hard and it costs you a—" He stops himself, coughs, stares at his boots Protecting the boy in his innocent pursuits. Just talking 'bout the velvet buzzsaw Yeah, she hums like an engine when you pull on the line Soft on the casing but she wrecks your design The deadliest machinery a dollar could draw It’s a clumsy collision of a fabric and a blade But the boys in the shop understand how it’s played Yeah, the velvet buzzsaw. Three hundred years ago they’d write it a song About a rose in a garden where the shadows belong But the wit’s bleeding out on the linoleum floor We don't have the time for the parlor no more Just smash two cool words from a hardware display A nudge and a grin to get out of the way The kid goes back to sweeping the grit Tommy leans back, pretty proud of his wit A plush little danger, a spinning disguise He watches the clock, and the punchline just Dies on the air.