Big Mouth EP

by zulfi

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about

where are the right fights, not in our grounds, not in our grounds

Big Mouth EP by zulfi, recorded in the isolation of the home I made in the Hopper Studio room.

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it’s so damn hard to remember if i was crazy in pakistan too but it feels like i’m breathing in glances far stranger than the ones hurled at me before. i pretend to find home in allen ginsberg’s marijuana addiction or david bowie’s androgyny but there seems still an angry unease. americans think i’m fucking absurd and the international kids whisper in their pretty, proud accents how i’m “so ridiculous.” i think i wore pinker hats in my dreams, played more juvenile games of friendship. i think i sang much more over my headphones, wishing no one could hear me. i would scream my songs or quickly rearrange the syntax of my jokes to make them sound more human. see, because writing a glorifying diary called the absurdist dreams feels much less cosy than reciting jokes out loud to a dude who smiles at every crass misstep. i wish i could talk in a language everyone could understand but only equally, with the same connotations, the same affinities. english is weird, a bit racist, mostly classist but above all, weird and convoluted and easy to manipulate into and through jargon.

i started working on music this past year the second i was left breathing in the endless abandon of college street. i’m almost half past 19 and everyone hoped, or was scared, that my Big Mouth was going to get me into trouble. in all the tuesday parties in attics or crypts, climbing through as-far-from-obscure trekking trails or smoking at ill-advised times, making ill-advised attempts at humor, falling in love with ill-advised bastards, my big mouth did get me into goliaths of trouble. but trouble is easy; no unease or jagged complexities to overcome, edges only to create and explode, discomfort first to be exploited. so after leaving enough parties surreptitiously, i finally found the person who wanted to head to the studio after woad’s or a night out at a subversive kid’s subversive party. i found the boy who screamed the words to his favourite song not because he wanted to make a stupid point but because he just wanted to. i found the boy who came to yale, proud and vindicated for his loudmouthery from pakistan, breathing in shots of glances, blurry streets and the mangled crowds of phenomenal parties. i’m going to get a tattoo of a still from lorde’s “green light” video, of the moment i relive with her every 3 am, every crazy wandering outside a bar. it’s that moment when she’s dancing with a pretty dress in a pretty street, maybe next to an actual bodega, with her dirty white shoes on and she’s listening to a song that’s making her go crazy, feel an insane ecstasy, shared by the tenenbaums or the kid from rushmore or my deranged eyes from 3rd grade or my best friend who no one understood, of an unfair but so, so innocent a wish from this unforgiving, insufficient world. i think we’re listening to different versions of the same song. a song about a weird intimacy and loathing, maybe advocacy, for oneself. today, i am playing mine. i hope you like it, or like me, or at the very least, that you’re like me.

Welcome to Big Mouth.

credits

released April 28, 2017

album art by the amazing Fiona Drenttel and mixed/produced by the coolest David Townley.

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zulfi New Haven, Connecticut

Zulfi is a one-boy dynamo. Grown gold in Pakistan, he now records his shiny, substantial alt-pop in a basement studio at Yale, sourcing from dance flings, the legacy of Freddy Mercury, and a summery fuck-u energy. His words teethe on the grit of life lived young and collegiate. grounding himself in the familiarity of the post-party sidewalk, the knowledge that others are out there burning, too. ... more

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Track Name: Welcome (Intro)
Welcome to my game show, there's so much to see
Clowns in underamour and a reckless belief
I'm watching and pining and getting to lines in, diving and hiding in order to be
Ginsberg, sinners, on Thursdays we're beat
See, rap can sing songs or bring you along
Meet me on Old Campus, let's hit up that bong
Ay, are you down, are you down, are you out tonight to hit up that stand-up comedy
repeat, ontogeny recaps phylogeny
Ah! maybe only Tommy will get it, the rest of y'all please take a sermon and don't spread it
I'm sorry I'm just bitchy comes with being a fag
I know I misrep the gays, you know I'm just a fad
I ball too hard I call em grey geeese
Take a picture, Hollywood, im always sayin' cheese

talking all that STEM shit, that Fence shit, still smoking my weed?
Try and get rid o' me, I show up on every newsfeed
and turn up with me, yo get drunk with me
wrap ur finger around the motherfuckers who can’t fuck with me
you talking all that STEM shit, that Fence shit, still smoking my weed?

WELCOME TO MY GAME SHOW, THIS IS BIG MOUTH.
Track Name: Big Mouth
But you’re so smart, dressed like we want you to
Got a big heart, show it off at parties too
Talking so smart but who do you think you’re talking to
C’mon back, love, there’s so much more left to do


Did you hear about the new trends of the cool kids stuck at dead ends
Sometimes I wish I was you, and they do too and they do too


Forget them, the world’s heart is on its string but dance love and talk mean,
but do it like i taught you to, do it like i taught you to
And stay away from powder drugs and free time and modern love
but do it like i taught you to, do it like i taught you to

But you’re so smart, don’t make a mess, don’t fight your food
But you’re so smart, now you’re just fucking rude
Oh talk quick! Bubblegum spit!
Oh look at this, they think they’re slick

I found you out, on the curb smoking, but you hate cigarettes, but you hate cigarettes
and you dance mean and talk love and don’t stay clean, and i think you’re dumb now, you’re pulling whips now, taking big trips now

Forget them, the world’s heart is on its string but swing monday to saturday
but do it like i taught you to, do it like i taught you to
And stay the same through powder drugs and free time and cooler kids
but do it like i taught you to, do it like i taught you to


And remember your morals, fists up in quarrels,
dont get drunk but be honest,
your attitude and yearning is all that you have (VII) to be glad for

don’t yell in public, what’s to be mad for
I walk like a dog, I’m four arms out
You walk aimlessly with your big mouth



But you’re so smart, dressed like we want you to
Got a big heart, show it off at parties too
Talking so smart but who do you think you’re talking to
C’mon back, love, there’s so much more you can't do
Track Name: Stickers
Whiskey in angry eyes
Won’t bid my clichés goodbye
Have you touched the marks you left on me?
Painted in sobriety

I cover ‘em up with stickers,
sometimes hard liquor,
We’re tripping on our tangling

Used to put me in your lap,
Now I’m such a sad sack,
Talking to the minds I’ve owned


Bored now with the entire world
But your hickeys or your summergirls,
No more band-aids, no more boys
No more reasons to enjoy – I’m crossing campus over campus over you (x3)


And the boys who barely spoke,
Or freaks with unlocked do-o-ors
Longing on their keys,
Failing at sobriety


Raise a glass like a bastard,
Down ten shots of vodka,
We’ll dance in front of anyone!

Used to put me in your lap,
Now I’m just a sad sack,
Talking to the minds I’ve owned


Bored now with every dream,
My city, whoever it hurt to be
No more band-aids, no more boys
No reasons to enjoy
I’m trying to rip apart the ruse,
No, I don’t miss any misuse
Remember no fucking abuse
I’ll keep crossing campus over campus over you
My lips are shut, my eyes are blue
No more talking in front of you
I’m gonna break every single fucking rule
By crossing campus over campus over you.
Track Name: Look
Look, baby, look what you did to me,
You left for smokes, left me waiting at the sea,
I counted the grains of the sand on my arms, eh
Waited for you to come back and disarm me,

Look, baby, look what you left of me,
Next to a hairbrush and a suitcase,
With people, you knew I was very very fake,
I type out a hundred sorrys out in glue,
We'd often leave there so so much to do,
I'll throw away the birthday cakes,
There's no celebration in heartbreak-ers

So I shut up and got high
As kind tourists passed by,
And I guess I forgot to ask for help by 12
Look what you did to me,
Look how my bed you'll leave,
You tore it apart,
You clawed at my heart,
Look what you did to me,

See, baby, see the mess you've made
Ask yourself the price I paid
You broke the windows, I locked doors
I should've known you were never sure

Look, baby, look what you said to me,
I'm sorry I found it hard to believe,
I stayed up seldom and only with you,
You could just punch my face blue
With tattoos you asked to be left alone,
With scars I punched you, held you close-er

I thought I would just die,
As kind tourists passed by,
And I think I'll never forget your name,
Look what you did to me,
Look how my bed you'll leave,
You tore it apart,
You clawed at my heart,
Look what you did to me,
Track Name: Goodbye (Acid Academia)
I’m like Chance from Pakistan and all this rap’s just happenstance
my girl, what do you think’s the plan, oh, Mary, what do you think’s the
She put me on her finsta, walking with her mister, she put me on her rinsta
errybody on spotify acting like they a spinster,
oh, Hana, Ruhi, Mary what do you think’s the, what do you think’s the


Are we going out tonight for Js and coffee,
or we meeting at the ‘bucks to read some tragedy
Are we chilling by the sofas, bitching, watching grey’s
while « Lukii » walks in, got a jawline for days

See all of us were addicted but none of us would admit it
And I think Lukas still built his machines
We would take extra minutes walking or several meals stalking
As I read poems from my cracked iPhone screen
Smoking spliffs in the sculpture garden and Tom’s wordy violence
Yelling out profanities to end any silence
But she’d agree to dance even if it was unplanned
And my mother does not know who I am

Sometimes I spill a drink, I can spill it all over you
I wonder how my mother’s marble looks in red wine hues
this city’s burning, punching our hearts black and blue
Sometimes I love too much, i can love all over you

Either none of us were sad or all of us were dying,
the first few months, at least, all of us were trying
And the cold came early, rotting lies into the ugly
and lipsticks came off on the grades we pasted on the wall
and the walls, and the walls, and the walls caved in
her paint was scratchin’ over, my posters givin’ in
we stopped locking our doors, trample up the siide
my suitemate hates noises, let’s stay a while
don’t, don’t, don’t mimic their silence, let’s rest up in the music room playin violins
the stationary here is so bad,
the ink impales but my papers were rad

my papers were only poetic nonsense, vomit he asked me to revise please
i’m like, bitch shut the fuck up i was on LSD,
listen, repeat, smile and say cheese,
i been introduced to Acid Rap three times this year
i been sitting, smoking, tripping, typing essays in a mania
ain’t no “real, trippy” music, this is acid academia
But she’d agree to dance even if y’all [yale] kicked me out
mother does not know what i’m about

Sometimes I spill a drink, I can spill it all over you
I wonder how my mother’s marble looks in red wine hues
this city’s burning, punching our hearts black and blue
Sometimes I love too much, i can love all over you