handle things more clearly now.

we are in the year nineteen hundred and something. recording technology is as clunky as a power station, and everything is analog and works brilliantly that way, just like the lace mat under grandma's bakelite telephone. exactly the right conditions for a hit in the indie charts of what used to be a great seafaring nation, but which nowadays only keeps its head above water by adding land area. a concert experience in an establishment for entertaining young music-lovers in Antwerp leads to an interview in Flemish-speaking radio (must have been a private station because they provided pot along with the questions). some recordings in the studio didn't go down as well as expected: the indie community, once sure of its taste, now had confused taste. control your emotions whatever that means. 10 years later, everything is starting over. the big blond and the little blonde are still big and little and blond. the female voice has since been classically trained and bangs on the anvil: go and fight and do what's right – but of course in moderation: according to mama's rule. the guitar sounds like a triple burger: lots of heavy stuff on it and when you take a bite some of it is sure to get on your pants. the sound is full of mathematically exact inspiration: genius times chance equals force times distance. take away percussion and bass, and the whole thing sounds like you don't need any percussion or bass at all. and if you chew on it, you won't have ketchup running down your chin, but lifeblood. and the best thing about it is that you don't need to make yourself go crazy. you are crazy already.


sabine gramenz - bass, voice | mike bohrmann - guitar, xtras

sabine gramenz aka s.oda – bass, voice         mike bohrmann aka bon jorno – guitars, perc., keyb.


paradox is


ParadoxParadox – S.oda / Bon Jorno

01 - Momma's Boy
02 - Hip Flask
03 - Happy When I'm Down
04 - Princess Of The Suburbs
05 - Stanley Park
06 - Three Cheers And A Tiger
07 - Chains Of Steel
08 - Nothing Worth (Outtake)
09 - The Telephone Song
Lyrics by Aaron Wrixon - except tracks 01 & 09 (Momma's Boy by Thurston Moore)


Princess Of The Suburbs 

emmeline shuffles squinting in the sun to get the paper she's a princess of the suburbs
resplendent in her housecoat and slippers
turning from the mailbox, she stops along the way
sees a new car, much nicer than her car
in the neighbor's driveway

she'd keep going but she hasn't got the heart
she'd keep going

back inside with the headlines, it's a festival of funerals emmeline can't help but wonder
how men can be such animals
speaking of animals, there’s six hours till her husband's plane gets in
she fixes breakfast fit for a princess —
a bottle of vodka and a bottle of vicodin

she'd keep going but she hasn't got the heart
she'd keep going but she wouldn't know how to start

and just like her there's a million emmelines
a million husbands a million planes
a million punches thrown in the middle of a million fights
a million princesses in chains

twenty after seven, he comes home with his suitcase and golf clubs
finds the surprise of his life
sprawled motionless over the side of the bathtub
she's scratched out “i don't want this” on the shower door in the soap scum
emmeline, princess of the suburbs, has given up her kingdom


lyrics by Aaron Wrixon (Toronto, CA)