Cul de Sac
Public Memory is the solo nom de plume of Robert Toher, a Brooklyn-based mu… Read Full Bio ↴Public Memory is the solo nom de plume of Robert Toher, a Brooklyn-based musician who formerly served time as a member of Eraas and Apse. While those projects blurred the edges of rambling space rock and synthy post-punk, Public Memory dives headlong down the electronic darkwave rabbit hole, exploring a Korg-constructed sonic palette that weaves together a variety of primitive beats, delicately employed samples (bells, chimes, the weeping of ghosts), and woozy electronics that sound as if they might have been recorded at the bottom of a lake. Created over the course of a year while Toher was temporarily decamped in Los Angeles, Wuthering Drum is a work of restrained gloom—a remarkably textured electronic record whose minimalist tendencies keep it from collapsing under the weight of its own moribund aesthetic.

Cul de Sac
Public Memory Lyrics


Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴  Line by Line Meaning ↴

I live in small room
With all my things and place
I see no reason to pretend
Lock the front door
Shut the curtains
That's a matter of decent

Nothing special
On the dancefloor
See the forest for the trees
Start a new day




Spray the holy house
Turn that paper into gold

Overall Meaning

The lyrics to Public Memory's song "Cul De Sac" suggest a sense of isolation and detachment from society. The first line, "I live in small room with all my things and place," indicates that the singer is living alone and prioritizes material possessions over connection with others. The following line, "I see no reason to pretend," reveals that the singer is not interested in presenting a false image to others, and values authenticity over social norms. The lines "Lock the front door, shut the curtains, that's a matter of decent" reinforce the singer's desire for privacy and distance from the outside world.


Line by Line Meaning

I live in small room
I reside in a confined space


With all my things and place
Accompanied by all my belongings, it is the place I call home


I see no reason to pretend
I have no cause to feign or deceive


Lock the front door
Please secure the entrance


Shut the curtains
Draw to a close the drapes


That's a matter of decent
It's a question of propriety or good manners


Nothing special
Not anything particularly noteworthy


On the dancefloor
While engaged in dancing or merry-making


See the forest for the trees
Take a broader perspective of things, beyond the details


Start a new day
Commence afresh to live another day


Spray the holy house
Apply the disinfectant to the sacred abode


Turn that paper into gold
Convert that worthless document into something of great value




Lyrics © TUNECORE INC, TuneCore Inc.

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CSimon

I live in small room
With all my things and place
I see no reason to pretend
Lock the front door
Shut the curtains
That's a matter of decent

Nothing special
On the dancefloor
See the forest for the trees
Start a new day
Spray the hollyhocks
Turn that paper into gold

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