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3 weeks ago | tinnitist.com | Serge Bielanko

“Every town has an Elm Street.”— Freddie KruegerThere are these things called night terrors. They mostly happen in little kids under the age of 12 and that doesn’t seem fair to me. Little kids don’t deserve anything like that. What happens (on the surface of things) is that the kid is asleep but then suddenly they are also talking excitedly or screaming or calling for help. They might be understandable or they might be incomprehensible.

1 month ago | tinnitist.com | Darryl Sterdan

Siena Fantini is curious about her ex’s new girl in her debut single Wanna Know Her Name — showcasing today on Tinnitist. Seeing a former partner soft launch a new romantic relationship on social media can make you feel uneasy, and the natural urge that comes with wanting to know more about that new individual is […]

1 month ago | tinnitist.com | Ben King

I love it when a song you know and love gets used in a film or TV series in such a way that it makes you feel differently about the song. Check out the example above: Waiting For Something by Jay Reatard. The final track on his 2009 album Blood Visions will now be forever reminiscent of the awful scene at the end of the third episode of Season 1 of The Handmaid’s Tale, when Emily (Ofglen) awakes in a nondescript, stark white post-surgical room to discover her clitoris has been removed.

1 month ago | tinnitist.com | Serge Bielanko

Not long ago, I posted something on my Facebook page saying that I was planning to write some more stuff about Marah, my old band, in the near future. I mentioned that my format would be my ‘Jawn’ method’, a method — if you’re not familiar — which allows me a sort of liberated chance to write shorter, often unrelated, vignettes that ostensibly add up to a single threaded comprehensive ‘episode’ of Jawns. Confused yet? Haha/ hope not.

1 month ago | tinnitist.com | Serge Bielanko

8:37 am. A kid, a boy, maybe 7 or 8, is taking a piss out on the edge of the fields, where the woods start, behind the elementary school. It’s recess and all the other kids are making a racket a hundred yards in his rear. There’s screaming and laughing and high voices calling out names but it’s all one thing: like a big fire: as if so much energy is marauding at once that it’s not possible to separate the good from the bad. The noise is unstoppable and likely untouchable.