Economic Kama Sutra
Finding $D body-politics satire: women as currency, Ring of Gyges, Al Franken: welcome to your future hell, economic kama sutra, blow your way to the top.
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ISRC TCADN1849868 (soundexchange)
Track six on Finding $D, Luke solo; every song on the LP was written, recorded, mixed, and mastered in a single day. It sits between Damned and Gud Gud Medicine, and it’s body politics and sexual economics delivered as a gross-out funk sermon.
The opening verse is anatomy-as-mysticism in deliberately broken rhyme, with the misspellings (nuckle, vestigal, mistical) left intact and pain and pleasure collapsed into one. Then the song names its target: when men determine women to be currency / they living like Gheddafi in a tyranny. The references are pointed but oblique. An oompa loompa man who slipped the ring of Gyges on his itty bitty hand fuses an unnamed enabler with Plato’s myth of invisible impunity, before the blame gets passed to his brother Al Franken, who resigned amid the 2017 #MeToo reckoning.
The chorus is a trap with no exit (welcome to your future hell… there is no more room for escape), where pleasure reads as guilt and reproduction as a sentence handed down to babies who have no hope for escape. The hook inverts a sacred text for capitalism, and the bridge spells out the climb: you’ll blow your way up / to the top. Same satire register as My Meddling Kids (Hallelujah Sexy) and the senator verses of My Friend, Scoobert, the horror here being economic sex under patriarchy, no comic mask in sight.
Written, performed, mixed, and mastered by Luke Francis Walton.
Lyrics
Simmer down Pop goes the vestibule Send a nuckle To rap tap the testicle Vestigal mistical jewel Desire the pain We one in the same Ascetic never criss-crossed the brain You see When men determine women to be currency They living like Gheddafi in a tyranny That oompa loompa man got anonymity He slipped the ring of Gyges on his itty bitty hand Then he passed that evil shit off to his brother Al Franken Ay Lock 'em naked in the town square Ay Colony, OG pillory Spit on me and he and we for she's sake Had enough of your fat ass Cheesecake Welcome to your future hell Settle in you'll know it well There is no more room for escape (Oh) You're guilty when you're feeling great Now go ahead and procreate Babies have no hope for escape Ay Economic kama sutra Economic kama sutra Economic kama sutra What what what ya got? What ya got? Economic kama sutra You'll blow your way up To the top Welcome to your future hell Settle in you'll know it well There is no more room for escape (Oh) You're guilty when you're feeling great Now go ahead and procreate Babies have no hope for escape (Oh) Ay Welcome to your future Welcome to your future Welcome to your future Welcome to your future hell Settle in you'll know it well There is no more room for escape (Oh) You're guilty when you're feeling great Now go ahead and procreate Babies have no hope for escape (Oh) Ay Economic kama sutra