Chloeandclover

collection of writings and musings by Chloë Mae Whitley

Black Eyes, Open Mouth

Yesterday I got the chance to see my favorite noise band live in concert. I first listened to them in the backseat of my best friends girlfriends car. We were probably just coming from a backyard show and she put on the song ‘Deformative’ by Black Eyes. I was 14, full of anger, searching every corner of my life for ways I could outlet the feelings eating away at my adolescent organs. This song, this fucking song, immediately alchemized in me. Imagine me, sitting in the middle of the backseat of a 2015 Toyota Corolla, sticker-clad interior with proof of every visit to Amoeba Records plastered on the dash, reeking of stale french fries and leather guitar cases, my two friends in love are holding hands and SCREAMING at the top of their lungs:
“Sunset, behind a chain link fence
You put that tiny candle in my hand
You put that chrism on my forehead
With your fingers crossed
You held my wrists
And I’ll never forget that pebble pushing up into my knee!”
I remember going on a strange trip to Utah with my dad and step-monster to visit her father (we never did things as a family let alone trips and vacations so this was weird to me). I had just began my first real relationship with a boy (Jonas, my partner to this day), and the last thing I wanted was to be stranded in mormon country potentially missing out on my new punk rock boyfriends weekend shenanigans. The trip that felt like a desert fever dream ended up being oddly gratifying. My father and I smoked weed together for the first time, shot guns, and raced around in a RZR side-by-side through the red rocks all while blasting my new favorite albums ‘Black Eyes’ and ‘Cough’.
The albums were produced in 2003 and 2004, respectively. After three years of performing across the DC art-punk scene the band took an almost 20 year hiatus before returning in 2023 for anniversary shows. In 2025 they released an extended play titled ‘Hostile Design’. Like their other studio albums they explore themes of religion, classism, assault, exploitation, and the general feelings that come with being a feral juvenile in a soul-devouring capitalistic male run society. The album takes on a more melodic reggae sound than its predecessors and includes traditional Palestinian, Greek, and Haitian hymns sung by Hugh McElroy. This is an album you can moan to, shake to, sway to, and of course SCREAM to.
Summer and I decide to wait out the openers, I feel sorry but I know I won’t enjoy anything other than what my ears came to hear. We trapce down the avenues until we can find a “hole in the wall” to eat at and we land upon a Mexican pupusaria. Summer ordered a chamoy mango margarita with papusas while I opted for a mexican coke and shrimp cocktail. We even shared a tray of battered french fries (our comfort food). We ate our hearts out while giggling over the TV monitors playing videos of DIY dessert hacks. I find it funny how hacks are never truly hacks, but hack jobs. We head back to the show and can hardly contain ourselves as we make our way into the venue. Instantly we take notice of the two drum kits set on stage facing each other (as opposed to the usual one kit facing the crowd). As the drum cymbals rang out and the first song came to a cresendo I felt that special feeling you can only feel in a crowd of people with a shared purpose– complete disillusion of the self. I’m often discussing the integral psychic process of individuation, but I rarely ever think about the opposing concept of deindividuation.

“‘…de-individuation has been described and defined as a state of affairs in a group where members do not pay attention to other individuals qua individuals, and, correspondingly, the members do not feel they are being singled out by others.” The theory was advanced that this results in a reduction of inner restraints in the members and that, consequently, the members will be more free to indulge in behavior from which they are usually restrained. It was further hypothesized that this is satisfying and its occurrence would tend to increase the attractiveness of the group.’
Festinger, L., Pepitone, A., & Newcomb, T. (1952). Some consequences of de-individuation in a group. The Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology, 47(2, Suppl), 382–389. https://doi.org/10.1037/h0057906

In any crowd you can become anonymous. But in a crowd with a shared purpose you can become more than that. You can become so unified in your emotional state that your very essence blends and merges with those around you. You lose your sense of self but its not in a way that feels lost. You see, being born into this world is our first step of individuation. A fraction of the Universal Soul separates and comes down into your physical vessel for the individual experience that is you. But when we die, this soul leaves our body and our essence returns to God, to The Oneness. I believe that in a crowd with a shared purpose you can experience a type of individuation that feels like being found. Found in the sense that you have been called and drawn back into the wholeness of soul unity– back into the light before it becomes refracted. A shared pupose is a shared body.
And this, this unique feeling of dissolving the self into a shared spirit is the unrestrained closeness, love, and sense of belonging I hope and yearn to experience at my time of death.
When I first listened to Black Eyes at 14, I was angry and I didn’t know what to do with it. Now, almost 24, I am still angry, but I know exactly what to do with it. I will dance. I will write. I will moan and I will maul. I will stomp and I will bawl. I will shake and I will exasperate. And most importantly I will scream at the top of my lungs until someone is sitting face to face with me screaming back. Yes, that is what I will do.

After the show ends I jot in my notes: Percussion Palpates my Animalistic Desires.


I have whiplash and I’m covered in the sweat of strangers– I’ll sleep soundly tonight.

The following are lyrics from the song ‘Pestilence’ :

[Daniel Martin-McCormick]
Every day out here, you're walking a fine line
And if the wind picks up, it might knock you down onto your side
Yeah, it's cold out here, you better put on a coat
Cross your Ts, dot your Is, memorize by rote
And the language takes on a rancid bloat
But it's fine

Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma mia, I wanna pull the meat off the bone
S-señorita, this ET wants to phone home
C-can I see ya, you're wrapping those presents alone
It's a place to unwind, leave your ethics behind
Fill the pitcher with piss, cut in twain and entwine
More, morе, baby, baby, no, I told you it's fine
You wanna be so Sophia, then I'll bе Beatrice
You wanna be Ferdinand, I'll let this dog off the leash
Sing a jingle for peace, flip it for triple, at least
My, my, pretty mama, you wanna try on this fleece?
Take a second and pull another book off the shelf
Find a place to sit and read for a spell
Find a place to reflect on what you've got left to sell
Find a, a cozy corner in your personal hell
It's a season of cheer, we know it all too well
You've got appointments to keep, I think that's pretty swell, but

[Hugh McElroy, Daniel Martin-McCormick]
Fertile irrigation with the nitrogen
(My favorite, lie on it)
In the spilled blood of slaughtered children
(Feel it writhing, don't you want it?)
Fertile irrigation with the nitrogen
(Cop it, flaunt it, my mind's gone and)
In the spilled blood of slaughtered children
(Why? You wanna lie on it)
Properties mistaken for limitations
(Try to find my way along)
Lines on paper mistaken for property
(Write your dreams as a sonnet)
Checkpoints dilate for capital penetration
(Let it writhe, quiver, sigh)
Sovereign nations mistaken for colonies
(Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-shiver, at least you can try)
يا طالعين عين للل الجبل يا موللل الموقدين النار
بين لللل يامان يامان عين للل هنا يا روح
ما بدي منكي لللكم خلعة ولا لللل لابدي ملبوس
بين للل يامان يامان عين للل هنا يا روح
إلا غزال لللللللذي جوين اللللللكم ما يدوم
بين للل يامان يامان عين للل هنا يا روح
(To those of you who are climbing the mountain
To those of you who are lighting fires
Ya man, ya man, I just want you to be safe I do not want any dresses from you, nor gifts Ya man, ya man, I just want you to be safe. To those gazelles who are jailed inside I want to tell you that this situation will not last
Ya man, ya man, I just want you to be safe —from “Ya Tali’een el-Jabal” (Going Up the Mountain), traditional Palestinian song)

Let it foam at the mouth, let it snap to the beat
You've got a worm in your pants, I'll hold it tight in my teeth
Let it rot in your keep, purify it with bleach
Twist your mind into knots, let's keep it discreet
My favorite, lie on it
Feel it writhing, don't you want it?
Flaunt it
I can't forget
What you said
My mind's gone
Blessed, regressed
Set it, forget it
My favorite, lie on it
Set it, I find
I can't find my way to
Forget it

[Daniel Martin-McCormick]
Float to the top, melt in the sun
Cream of the crop, become undone
The meek inherit the earth, well, you oughta know
Quoting scripture as if your face doesn't show
What we already know, what you already said
I'm seeing red, we so wish you were dead
Tell me one more time, why can't you j-j-j-j-j-just stop?

Thanks for reading

With love, Chloeandclover ☘︎ ݁˖⋆xoxo

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