The Pageant

by Solareye

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‘The Pageant: plankton and tragic companions
A grisly procession of phantoms advancing
Abandon hope all ye transients – bang the funeral drum
And if yir asking, I’m dancing’

Written, recorded and released in a month, The Pageant, is a collection of stories and meanderings; grim fairytales and unlikely truths; ripples and reflections narrated by Stanley Odd rapper, Solareye. Featuring Louie (Hector Bizerk) and Tickle (Black Lantern) and produced by Dunt (ABAGA Records) and the elusive Harvey Kartel, the EP weaves unsteadily through a carnival of paranoiacs, oddities and misfits.


released November 21, 2012

Words by: Solareye
Beats by: Dunt (ABAGA RECORDS) & Harvey Kartel
Artwork by: Allan Forrest



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Stanley Odd Scotland, UK

Stanley Odd is an alternative hip-hop group based in Scotland combining live instrumentation with samples and loops. Formed in 2009, the band have shared stages with artists such as Arrested Development, Sage Francis and Goldie Looking Chain and played at major Scottish festivals including T in the Park and Edinburgh's Hogmanay Street Party. ... more

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Track Name: The Pageant
Welcome to the pageant. I'm fine thanks for asking.
Waving the ratchet, bumping Belle and Sebastian
The last bastion, full body cast sat laughing.
Dancing with flashbacks from full metal jackets.
Crass fashion, crashing fags pulling a fast yin.
Breeks at half mast. Half bull half mastiff.
My life motif is the sound of glass smashing.
Accompanied by the hashtag 'hazmat happens'
Man. I tuned out for 2 secs
To contemplate the creases in ma bruised crepes
Up here we call em sannies, as in sand shoes
Either way they're falling apart right now as I stand dude.
The opposite of brand new. Stuck on these sand dunes.
I'm not from the highlands but watch how ma clan moves.
Not impressed with this 'I can't understand you'
Spend ma days trying to discover things I can't do

The Pageant.
Plankton and tragic companions,
A grisly procession of phantoms advancin’.
Abandon hope all ye transients bang the
Funeral drum and
If yir asking I’m dancin’

I’m backwards by popular demand
The sun rises in the west and backtracks across the land
I’m a joker, hollow laughing in the half-light
I’m the grey dawn, spelling the end to a Dark Knight
Starve the old father just to waste time.
Weaving unsteadily imagining a straight line.
Tight wallet. Cast shadows from the lights fallen.
Heads frozen on a slab for cold cash call it ice lolly.
Fresh from the freezer, chest filled with ether
Stanley Odd stretched across yir bird breasts on a T-Shirt.
Come on kid, you don’t want this so stay at home
I call these aggie cats ‘Nike’ ‘cause they’re Erse Holes.
Do you know the Death march? If you hum it I’ll play it
The uneasiness in ma stomach is gestating
Hybridised, reborn with Ripley in my cranium
‘Cause everything about this fucking planet seems alien

The Pageant.
Plankton and tragic companions,
A grisly procession of phantoms advancin’.
Abandon hope all ye transients bang the
Funeral drum and
If yir asking I’m dancin’

Keep talking and get a sair face
I might do it myself I'm so Airdrie
Don’t be concerned about whether I get AirPlay
I'm swinging on you like this was the fairway
Four! Move yir head of be prepared to part with it.
Iron bar critics: now that's a hard lyric.
It’s the famine of the real, feed ‘em beats so they souls can eat
Breathing fire on their heads til they overheat
Up out ma coma sleep, with a the sober heid
Ladies feel it in their ovaries, plus it's spreading overseas
Spitting out fire and injesting the madness
Unflamable – you’re not testing the fabric
I’m acting like nothing less than a savage
I'll make do the best that I can with
Whatever I can find in yir medicine cabinet
I'm like a dishevelled nun: a mess with the habit
Blessings. No escape as I lace the scriptures.
Solareye: I illuminate the picture.
Track Name: Mad Season
Thinking at random tangents.
Scribbling calculus, demanding answers.
Brainstem overly bruised, total recluse.
Holed up in the east wing of an abandoned mansion.
Painting magic-eye blots on flesh canvas
Back for a minute from ma fresh madness.
Crossbow: taking shots at trespassers.
Dressed in ma wedding suit, worn through and left tattered.
Time travel through the quicksand of ma mental assembly
Moving parallel to eternity.
Thick dust carpets these memories.
Light through the rotting window frame sets ma hand trembling.
The darkness responds hissing ‘you’ll remember me’
Digits twitch on the limbs of the nightmares I’m dismembering,
Sunken eyes staring emptily,
Static on a broken TV crackles the signal entropy.
Electronic bugs slither in the cornices,
Listening in as they whisper broken promises.
Sophisticated search engines scan for anomalies.
Reporting back to the nest where the hornets sleep.
Lawless enforcers in coffee stained fatigues.
Monitor ma brokenness on snow filled grainy screens.
Pacing a worn carpet til floorboards break and creak.
Join the dots in a broken brain and wake the beast.

I am the cry of a mother as her baby's captors held her.
I am the spade on the roof of an Anderson shelter.
I can make a same man's sense leave him.
I am Mad Season.

I am what comes after the voice of reason.
I have been hanged for a high treason.
I have been martyred as a heathen.
I am Mad Season. I am the sound of freedom.

White noise, brain wave, phase cancellation
Paranoiac schizophrenic shared accusations
Wandering the halls, trapped in the ghost vaults
Both thoughts agree it’s ma own fault
Insects crawl in the scratches where my nails and my skin stop
A tick in my left ear talks like a wristwatch
Half metronome half babelfish
A halfling in the shadows waiting for Aesop to label it
Show me where the fable is
I tripped the alarm while trying to disable it.
Epileptic strobe lights echo in surround.
I’ve bitten through my lip and taste metal in my mouth.
The world swims into focus, magnified in close-up
I try to piece together all the fragments since I woke up
Skeletal, skin taught, barely out a coma-state
Brain moving slugglishly, underused and overweight
Heavy from the decades of unspoken ideas
A waterlogged mirage in the desert of dry tears
Back from the barren place, where all matter goes
Compatible, I survive ‘cause I’m adaptable
Homing beacon embedded in ma tibia.
I leave the grounds and an alarm sounds in Libya.
Hysteria knows how it ought to be.
I will return after you've forgotten me.
Track Name: All Things In Moderation ft. Louie & Tickle
The fire is hot and the water is cold still I consume
I consume and my belly’s never full
‘All things in moderation’ – the saying isn’t new
But from social observation the saying isn’t true
It’s a paradoxical equation: When I’m out I’m self abusive
And when I’m not out I’m reculsive
A healthy mind-state’s not conducive
Remind me when I’m blinded
By the white lightening of a bevied night
For the next week that I might greet
Every time I open my heavy eyes
Whatever the scandal was. Plans get cancelled on.
Cracked and alone.
I never answer the door and calls go straight to answerphone.
‘Hello this is Dave Hook’s phone…’
In hiding or oot on a mission
The contradiction: the human condition.
Heard it before, don’t bother to listen.
High spirits, another narcotic collision
You know should just call it sufficient
Getting sober is followed by awkward reliving
Going over the horrors and visions
The lowest yir psyche is locked in a prison
Falling to bits, scarring ma conscience
All of this stuck in para quadrant
Smoking and sniffing then aff it again.
Euphoria, misery, laughing, depressed.
Exposed from the depths and then having the bends.
Hoping I’m different then grabbing a pen.
Exposing a spiritual famine I guess.
The exposure is lit my ma camera lens.
Track Name: Make Waves
I'm wait-less, meaning I won’t wait
Or I’m suspended in a g-force state,
So contrarily I’m either in suspended animation
Or I’m plagued with this restless agitation
I shapeshift, sinews snap, cracking bone
So even weightless, I weight-lift Atlas Stones.
Holding the history that man forgot:
It’s some view from the shoulders of the giants that I’m standing on.
I’m dazed with a fleeting glimpse of this greatness.
Til a weight lifts and It's replaced with a wage slip.
Shamefully makeshift, I narrate and dictate this
As faceless sadists take the tape and erase it.
They gather to goad and to run their mouths
Words choke in my throat that could cut them down
My heart jumpstarts and splutters out.
The Atlas engulfed in a mushroom cloud.

A voice in the ether, a poisonous breather
Sinusoidal repeater, deployed from a speaker
Devoid of a physical form I take shape
The sound travels on I was born to make waves
Make waves
Make waves
That’s ma spot son you’re gonna want to vacate
The sound travels on I was born to make waves

Patience. In the glance of a waitress:
I'm graceless, practicing complacence.
And evasion, my days slip away
Spouting rhetoric about the agents of change.
Displacement. Typing merrily away,
Systems steadily collate for the identity parade.
Trace this. Unless you’re living like a vagrant
Face it, there’s no secret conversations.
They tap the line and they trace it on the basis
That liberty lies where the terrorists grave sits.
Stay vacant through weeks and at weekends go apeshit
Until we part ways with the braincells we came with.
A list. Get famous. Make the playlist.
These cats can’t hit the target, they’re aimless,
The latest in a long line of fakeness to play with,
I’ll be on the dock of the bay when the wave hits.

Eyeballing with Clouded irises. Viruses spiraling.
Reading the Illiad idly.
A myriad tidal waves. Killing that line array.
Conversing with appliances in universal binary.
You call this indie? I call this skin deep.
Beauty resides behind the eye, where it should be.
The next directive: Here to spread the infection,
With a whole new collection of stories about rejection.
Broadcast the human condition from an illusionist prison
So just listen until we lose the transmission
I’m a revised version ape
I realign ma vertebrae til I can walk with the humans I impersonate
An ugly duckling discovering grace in a lover’s embrace
As shadow figures move puppets on stage
A young woman rasps a cough and covers her face
Judders in pain and waits ‘til her suffering fades
As a bus full of people look the other way
And hold their breath until their lungs fucking ache
Track Name: Look Away
Dissecting an intricately woven deception
Simulated reality, hope intervention
Smoke filled backrooms with It Girls and Scenesters
Cartesian dreams swirling from an evil genius
A collection of human heads displayed in the gallery
Battle a consensus displacement reality
Opening your eyes is ill advised
The truth is symbolised in Vanilla Skies
I’m the sceptic, the infected, the antiseptic,
The rejected, the zetetic, the directed
The slow-brained pawn, chasing a past that’s hidden
Unwittingly doing his master’s bidding
Basically, I’m saying I’m patiently sat
On a shelf, in a warehouse, a brain in a vat
Drawing lines on a page ‘til the illusion fades
With half of my brain screaming look away

If reality is a construct of artifice
Then what’s to stop me smashing my moral compass and discarding it?
In the darkness I search for clues that could expose them as facts
I’m either aware of the trickery or a sociopath
Living this limbo stasis of agents and infiltration
Pacing, wasting my days in a simulation
Tricknology, as detached as a frontal lobotomy
Yet connected to all of me, it’s an awful dichotomy
Ingesting data streams in search of a little peace
As burning cars illuminate broken streets in the Middle East
Revolutionaries vanish like they were never there
And men that speak of peace are banished to the Himalayas
Adverts and lawsuits fill my photographic memory
Polaroid shutters snap like gators in the Everglades
Chemical vapours provide the means to escape this
On the edge of my vision but I don’t think that I can face it

Eyes wide open, lost in ma head for days
I investigate, avoiding border checks and raids
Data transfer zigzags across eyeballs in REM sleep
8-bit pixels fill the pages as my pen leaks
Frequencies disrupt and telephone masts collapse.
Pictures glitch and retune as I sweep past, a walking vandegraph.
Static in Motion. Dramatic explosions.
Set off as the world collapses into jagged emotions
Turning the heat up to claustrophobic.
The singed air buzzes from the crackle of a million lost components
I hear WIFI’s whispering chat
And find digital patterns in the water as it drips from the tap.
Plagued by a nanotech ulcer in ma stomach,
I’m a hollow graphic; less than the mechanics I’m the sum of
As my every footprint’s erased and the illusion fades
Ma world disintegrates and I wish that I’d looked away