Gira lived with his parents in a relatively affluent suburb of Los Angeles, California, though they divorced when he was a young teenager. After staying with his alcoholic mother for much of his youth, he was sent to live with his father in Indiana and then Paris. He ran away from home and hitch-hiked across Europe, and was finally arrested for selling drugs in Israel. Although he was only a teenager at the time, he was placed in an adult prison. His father found Gira with the aid of Interpol and sent him back to the United States. Back in Los Angeles, he played in a band called Little Cripples and enrolled in art school and imagined that he would someday be a visual artist (Gira sketched obsessively); however, he soon became disillusioned with the elitism and academia surrounding the art world and dropped out. He was also in a band called Curtain, later called Strict Ids (source: Brendan Mullen's book "Live at the Masque"). However, Gira's interest in art is known to have affected his music; Inner Female is a study of Francis Bacon. It could also be said that Gira's visceral, surreal writing style is comparative to Bacon's paintings.
In 1979 Gira moved to New York City in order to start a band; he was influenced by No Wave and noise artists like Suicide and Glenn Branca. He played with the band Circus Mort before forming Swans. Before achieving success with his music, Gira was forced to work many tedious, backbreaking jobs in construction and demolition. He also began a short-lived art magazine, No.
Initially, Swans' focus was raw rhythm and abrasive textures, usually eschewing melody for visceral power. They became known for their abrasive experimental and post-industrial sound. The band's lineup and sound evolved over time, most markedly with the inclusion of Gira's eventual girlfriend, Jarboe, who added her ethereal voice and synthesizers to the group in 1985. Gira and Swans spent the next twelve years releasing studio, live, and side-project albums. Gira's frustration with the various record labels they recorded for grew over time.
After dissolving Swans in 1997 Gira released a solo album under his own name and began a new musical direction with The Angels of Light, which are a quieter, more acoustic-based group than Swans. Nonetheless, The Angels of Light retain much of the intensity of Gira's former project. While The Angels of Light are a rather traditional "song-based" group, Gira also spent time experimenting with soundscapes, found sound, and loops with the The Body Lovers project. He has also released several albums under his own name including Drainland (1995), The Somniloquist (2000, a spoken word album), and What We Did (2001), a collaboration with Windsor For the Derby's frontman Dan Matz.
Gira founded his own record label, Young God Records, which has released albums from such artists as Devendra Banhart, Mi and L'au, and Akron/Family as well as the Swans, The Angels of Light and The Body Lovers back catalogues.
Akron/Family served as Gira's backing band during the recording of and touring for The Angels of Light's 2005 album, The Angels of Light Sing 'Other People'.
Fan Letter
Michael Gira Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
the only way
to stop it, is to cut a hole and let the fresh air come in.
And your public face is dripping, now you're famous and
you're beautiful,
but i can still remember when your mouth was always open,
like a stairway
leading down to hell.
circling, and the
boys and girls are dreaming, and your naked body's bleeding
where the dogs
have ripped away your skin.
And the world is always shrinking, and my mind is
disappearing, in the holy
adulation of your all-inclusive open arms, and feeling
penitential, l'm cuning
off my finger, and l'm faxing you the image, via omnipresent
electricity.
And the communists were torturing a sacred man and
women, whose screams flew
out the window and through the Himalayas, then changed into
a buttelfly and
drifted through the wind, and landed on a street in Paris,
where you crushed
it underneath your high-heeled fin.
Now l'm killing and l'm stealing and l'm raping and l'm burning
and l'm
feeling kinda magic due to mental enervation, so i'll send my
mind into the
hard body of a rockstar, and maybe then you'll f**k me,
'cause 5 million
people love me, and you wanna suck my energy.
Yeah this world is made of losers, but I wanna be a winner,
I'll do anything it takes to hypnotize the upturned faces, into
trusting me completely so they'll
need me to supply, the object that will fill the emptiness that
was created
by repetition of an image and a sound they recognize, and
their malleable
identities will be sexually excited by the product which I will
then provide.
And this planet keeps on drifting through a thick and viscous
blackness, every
pleasure every weakness will come true before we're
finished, and l'm Iying
in my bed and my hands are gening bloody and l'm thinking I
can save you
from the phony world you live in, and maybe you will hide me
deep inside your perfect body and I'll melt into the glistening
flawless contours of
your immortal flesh.
Now you're mine. Yeah you're mine...
The lyrics of Michael Gira's song Fan Letter portray a disturbing and violent obsession with a famous person, whose image and fame seem to have taken over the singer's mind completely. The violence inside his own self is growing and becoming malignant, and the only way to let the fresh air come in is to cut a hole - a metaphor for the destructive tendencies that seem to have taken over the singer's mind. The object of his obsession is now famous, perfect and shining, but the singer remembers a time when everything about this person seemed to lead down to hell. The camera's always circling, and the boys and girls are dreaming, but beneath the surface, the naked body is bleeding where the dogs have ripped away the skin - a metaphor for the toll that fame and fortune can take on a person's well-being.
The singer seems to have lost touch with reality, as he hallucinates images of communists torturing sacred people, screams flying out of windows and changing into butterflies that drift through the wind and land on streets in Paris, and images of killing, stealing, raping and burning. He feels kind of magic due to mental enervation, but ultimately, his goal is to hypnotize the upturned faces and fill the emptiness created by repetition of an image and a sound. The planet keeps on drifting through a thick and viscous blackness, and every pleasure and weakness will come true before we're finished. In the end, the singer seems to want to hide deep inside the object of his obsession, hoping to melt into the glistening flawless contours of their immortal flesh.
Overall, the lyrics of Fan Letter depict a dark and disturbing journey into the mind of an obsessed individual, whose fantasies and desires seem to be taking over his own self. The song speaks to the destructive power of fame and the deep-seated need for validation and recognition, even at the cost of personal sanity and well-being.
Line by Line Meaning
And the violence in my insides is glowing and malignant, and the only way to stop it, is to cut a hole and let the fresh air come in.
I am consumed by rage that is growing worse with time. The only way to subside it is to let my emotions out and breathe in fresh air.
And your public face is dripping, now you're famous and you're beautiful, but i can still remember when your mouth was always open, like a stairway leading down to hell.
I remember when you were still unknown and your persona was more down-to-earth. Now that you are a celebrity, your image is becoming more fake and hollow.
Now your perfect body's shining, and the camera's always circling, and the boys and girls are dreaming, and your naked body's bleeding where the dogs have ripped away your skin.
Your physical appearance is taking precedence over your true self. Your celebrity status has turned you into an object of desire, leading to exploitation and even harm.
And the world is always shrinking, and my mind is disappearing, in the holy adulation of your all-inclusive open arms, and feeling penitential, l'm cuning off my finger, and l'm faxing you the image, via omnipresent electricity.
My obsession with you and your fame is slowly taking over my life. In a twisted act of devotion, I am willing to self-harm to the point of sending you pictures of it, all for the sake of proving my love and loyalty.
And the communists were torturing a sacred man and women, whose screams flew out the window and through the Himalayas, then changed into a buttelfly and drifted through the wind, and landed on a street in Paris, where you crushed it underneath your high-heeled fin.
While atrocities like communist torture occur, people like you are living a luxurious life, blissfully unaware of the suffering in the world. You are like a butterfly crushing others underneath your feet without a care in the world.
Now l'm killing and l'm stealing and l'm raping and l'm burning and l'm feeling kinda magic due to mental enervation, so i'll send my mind into the hard body of a rockstar, and maybe then you'll f**k me, 'cause 5 million people love me, and you wanna suck my energy.
My desperation to become famous like you has led me to commit heinous acts. I am so convinced that I am special and entitled that I believe if I become a rockstar, you will want to have sex with me and feed off of my fame.
Yeah this world is made of losers, but I wanna be a winner, I'll do anything it takes to hypnotize the upturned faces, into trusting me completely so they'll need me to supply, the object that will fill the emptiness that was created by repetition of an image and a sound they recognize, and their malleable identities will be sexually excited by the product which I will then provide.
I view the world as filled with losers, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to become a winner, including manipulating people into trusting me completely. I will create a product that will fill the void created by the repetition of an image and sound people recognize, making them sexually aroused and reliant on me.
And this planet keeps on drifting through a thick and viscous blackness, every pleasure every weakness will come true before we're finished, and l'm Iying in my bed and my hands are gening bloody and l'm thinking I can save you from the phony world you live in, and maybe you will hide me deep inside your perfect body and I'll melt into the glistening flawless contours of your immortal flesh.
The planet continues moving through the darkness of life, and every pleasure and weakness will come true eventually. I am lying in bed, imagining saving you from the superficial and fake world you inhabit. Hopefully, you will see my devotion and allow me to become one with your eternal perfection.
Now you're mine. Yeah you're mine...
In my twisted mind, I have convinced myself that you belong to me, that I have some sort of ownership over you even though we have never met. It is a disturbing and unhealthy obsession.
Contributed by Michael D. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
Sans Red
M. Gira - Fan Letter Lyrics:
[Verse 1]
And the violence in my insides
Is glowing and malignant
And the only way to stop it
Is to cut a hole
And let the fresh air come in
And your public face is dripping
Now you're famous and you're beautiful
But I can still remember
When your mouth was always open
Like a stairway leading down to hell
Now your perfect body's shining
And the camera's always circling
And the boys and girls are dreaming
And your naked body's bleeding
Where the dogs have ripped away your skin
And the world is always shrinking
And my mind is disappearing
In the holy adulation
Of your all-inclusive open arms
And feeling penitential
I'm cutting off my finger
And l'm faxing you the image
Via omnipresent electricity
[Verse 2]
And the communists were torturing
A sacred man and woman
Whose screams flew out the window
And through the Himalayas
Then changed into a butterfly
And drifted through the wind
And landed on a street in Paris
Where you crushed it underneath your high-heeled fin
Now l'm killing and l'm stealing
And l'm raping and l'm burning
And l'm feeling kinda magic
Due to mental enervation
So I'll send my mind into the
Hard body of a rock-star
And maybe then you'll fuck me
'cause 5 million people love me
And you wanna suck my energy
[Verse 3]
Yeah this world is made of losers
But I wanna be a winner
I'll do anything it takes
To hypnotise the upturned faces
Into trusting me completely
So they'll need me to supply
The object that will fill the emptiness that was created
By repetition of an image
And a sound they recognise
And their malleable identities
Will be sexually excited
By the product which I will then provide
[Verse 4]
And this planet keeps on drifting
Through a thick and viscous blackness
Every pleasure, every weakness
Will come true before we're finished
And l'm lying in my bed
And my hands are getting bloody
And l'm thinking I can save you
From the phoney world you live in
And maybe you will hide me
Deep inside your perfect body
And I'll melt into the glistening
Flawless contours of your immortal flesh
[Outro]
Now you're mine, yeah you're mine
Yeah you're mine, now you're mine
Now you're mine, now you're mine
Sans Red
M. Gira - Fan Letter Lyrics:
[Verse 1]
And the violence in my insides
Is glowing and malignant
And the only way to stop it
Is to cut a hole
And let the fresh air come in
And your public face is dripping
Now you're famous and you're beautiful
But I can still remember
When your mouth was always open
Like a stairway leading down to hell
Now your perfect body's shining
And the camera's always circling
And the boys and girls are dreaming
And your naked body's bleeding
Where the dogs have ripped away your skin
And the world is always shrinking
And my mind is disappearing
In the holy adulation
Of your all-inclusive open arms
And feeling penitential
I'm cutting off my finger
And l'm faxing you the image
Via omnipresent electricity
[Verse 2]
And the communists were torturing
A sacred man and woman
Whose screams flew out the window
And through the Himalayas
Then changed into a butterfly
And drifted through the wind
And landed on a street in Paris
Where you crushed it underneath your high-heeled fin
Now l'm killing and l'm stealing
And l'm raping and l'm burning
And l'm feeling kinda magic
Due to mental enervation
So I'll send my mind into the
Hard body of a rock-star
And maybe then you'll fuck me
'cause 5 million people love me
And you wanna suck my energy
[Verse 3]
Yeah this world is made of losers
But I wanna be a winner
I'll do anything it takes
To hypnotise the upturned faces
Into trusting me completely
So they'll need me to supply
The object that will fill the emptiness that was created
By repetition of an image
And a sound they recognise
And their malleable identities
Will be sexually excited
By the product which I will then provide
[Verse 4]
And this planet keeps on drifting
Through a thick and viscous blackness
Every pleasure, every weakness
Will come true before we're finished
And l'm lying in my bed
And my hands are getting bloody
And l'm thinking I can save you
From the phoney world you live in
And maybe you will hide me
Deep inside your perfect body
And I'll melt into the glistening
Flawless contours of your immortal flesh
[Outro]
Now you're mine, yeah you're mine
Yeah you're mine, now you're mine
Now you're mine, now you're mine
Mode Fathy
Oh god short lyrics.. thank you to share this
Maria Ramirez
THX' I luv it when kool people take the time to post the lyrics
Person who exists
some of the most interesting lyrics gira has ever wrote…..
Richard Roberson
Used to not really be a fan of this one. But it's starting to grow on me.
Enzo Galli
Excellent!!!
Phoenix
Brilliant!
DAMB
Dear Michael, I wrote you but still ain't callin'
Nopewave
wet hole Such a good comment.
Maria Ramirez
Haa haa... no fan mail...