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Girl with Basket of Fruit

by Xiu Xiu

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 𖤐 thumbnail
𖤐 this record along with "the air force" completely changed the way that i view & approach the art of sound design. the dizzying rhythmic passages, the mutated samples scattered throughout . . . all paired with some of the most desperate & tortured vocals i've ever heard. there's something otherworldly about this. Favorite track: Scisssssssors.
watch_earthworms_rise thumbnail
watch_earthworms_rise i feel queasy even looking at the album art. excellent job would never ever recommend. Favorite track: Pumpkin Attack on Mommy and Daddy.
👽🍹 thumbnail
👽🍹 I'm nearly two years late to the game on this album and it's nearly left me speechless. It's like Captain Beefheart produced by David Lynch -a harrowing surreal nightmare. One of the best albums of the decade and an achievement of musical creativity.
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      $19 USD or more 


  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Includes unlimited streaming of Girl with Basket of Fruit via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 5 days
    Purchasable with gift card

      $10 USD or more 


Take a break, the pressure rips her apart The baby duck in you has died Push it out and F-word a duck It’s a bad time to be a duck Girl with Basket of Fruit She sits on a bicycle and floats in space She is in love with The Angel of Stop Laughing When The Life Promiser makes her say any word It comes out as a joke He is not a good guest The cutlass is a more excellent guest Cutlass! Cutlass! Cutlass! Girl with Basket of Fruit Look at her try to walk away, I get bored Photos of her jerking it to mush, I get bored It’s a vagina strained without end and Her lungs fill with tears, her lungs turn to gills Life inland is become impossible No path straight through Og’s Magog Bog The Jack Fruit DING! The Dragon Fruit DING! The Passion Fruit DING! The Cinnamon’s Bun DING! She sits on a bicycle and floats in space She is love with The Angel of No Taxi Anywhere When Of Hell’s Electorate: The Grocer Makes her dance with a nobody It comes out as a joke Eating gherkins by the fist full From a jar in His front pants pocket Brine and peppers building up on the rings round his fingers Her boob gets so floppy she uses it as a fan to wave away His sickening B.O. Now rubbing it off with a brick Dust for his panettone Every frog hops right up into her butthole Every frog eats a single butthole flea on its way in She brown box squeezes them all into… FROGHOST!!! A flock of erect dicks on bats wing pee pees in her sleeping face and pointlessly tries to fuck a blue sky At the witch execution they all hope to be called up They’ve had enough! They’ve had enough! Girl with Basket of Fruit
Knuckle a short life in the ribs It comes out as a joke The God Burner and The Unembrace It too a joke The Great Fish and Deforms the Unborn It comes out A Great and Deformed Joke A pig wearing a maid’s apron and cap Riding a tomato on rubber wheels It looks at its pocket watch and points a hoof BOoP “You go to Thee Worl-duh Unborn.” Jerking to it in mush, mush deducted from heaven That’s is the funny part, jerking it to mush My life hot with sorrows, hot with sorrow But this a joke as well? Bedroom filling with true black Bedroom filling with smoke smoke Bedroom filling with klack klack Bedroom filled with smoke
One and a two and a three Tumors seem like something you would collect And poison seems like something you would take In the offense ways off all flesh I am not ready and cannot accept That it is spread like a cancer Goodnight! Goodnight! Don’t look sweet old friend Don’t look little sister Don’t answer KNOCK KNOCK! Don’t answer, only answer for your fear of God Don’t answer for the nothings else Ye oh night oh night oh night Get away ye oh night Get off, get back, get off OH NIGHT It is in fact maybe magnificent In the bosoms of Abraham I will behead all the saints I will behead all the stars Let lightning strike where it will Coconuts, bananas, flowering vines in revolt Let there be peace and let it begin with thee I am not ready and cannot accept I am not ready and cannot accept BLUBLUGBLOOGBULGOGIOBBLLUOBGHBLOULGU! Chunks of your forearm, chunks of your scalp, Chunks of your hunch, now in a dumpster or in a sandwich Your hairpiece perched upon your head As if dropped from the ceiling by accident Never not at worry and now never not blonde OH! Let her be reborn as something unruinable A meteor, a mushroom, a kakapo A sparkling out of control
Mescal in a bottle and baby on a boob Hair dyed blonde for nobody Nobody move! I wasn’t going to hurt you, I’ve heard that one before I wasn’t going to hurt you, I’ve said that one before Flip flops turned grey and foot twisted round the wrong way Puff Puff She is and was passed out and will always be passed about As it was in the beginning she is still passed out You paid half already! A bar named Smirk Smirk Smirk and a Jerk shack named The Gut and again no clothes A square of foam to pad her back Again no clothes A carpet sample to pad her back Dunk dunk! Who is it? Smile donut For lip liner: pee pee and rubber tubes Smile donut, smile and then DON’T!
Loner, loner Right, right So I was just standing there and standing there and Standing there and waiting, and waiting But like as a mother… Daddy-O Daddy-O Is that you my prize pig? I am sorry I left you out in the pasture to die He was such an asshole baby who Terrorizes all the kids in the neighborhood How does a pig even walk back into the house Without even one not broken leg Pigs are gross, well not you, you’re my pig Um but yeah No mom Um but yeah No dad Um but yeah No sister Noooooooo Nothing! Glue in a bag, glue in a bag It was so sweet and so disgusting You’re going to fuck your favorite sweater That if you wanted to be a human being Then you had to eat garlic You’re not my mom! S.M.U.T. keep me company Jump in Muther Fucker What what what! What if the bear was just a dumbass? My three legged pig, Now you really can’t get anywhere Where Where Where… And I am kind of dorky ass goof ball weirdo So I can get why some people don’t like me
Charismatic, a trapped rabbit Carpet beetle, huhu grub, rice weevil Flatworm, mealy bug, field cricket Grass grub, caterpillar, head louse… Utopia I can’t bear what they say about you Baptize a goat, sacrifice a goat Let shove in our wrong as deep as it will go Soft in the head and moth besieged A life alarmed with you Sheaf of wheat for flickings away Sheaf of rye for flicks to come No boat to back to where we came from Days spent eating and only eating Without ease and without reflection Apples, artichokes, almonds, acorns Asparagus, avocados, apricots Pulled through the sand and yet not dulled A life alarmed with you Cinthya upon the throne All the cubes and squares go home Sit by me and do the wrongest thing Boom the like We And Bunny and Pink are We Boom go that cars thee Cars the like We
Mary Turner, Mary Turner Mary Hattie Graham 19 years old and pregnant Hazel Turner, Hazel Turner Murdered by a lynch mob She declares his crime a crime And running for her life She is, she is captured, captured at Folsom Bridge Gasoline and motor oil smeared on her clothes She is hung up by her ankles from a tree A match is struck and she is set ablaze Mary Turner, Mary Turner while still burning Mary Turner, Mary Turner while still alive Split open with a knife Unborn Child falls from her womb From her womb onto the ground Looking up, looking up The first and only light it ever sees The flames, the flames of its mother’s burning, burning Reaching out, reaching out The first and only loving touch it receives The falling ash of its mommy’s hair on fire The baby, baby cried in the dirt Quieted, quieted by a boots heel Mother and child, mother and child 999 more bullets from the crowd Mary Turner, Mary Turner buried where they were murdered A cigar stuffed in a whisky jug, a whisky jug to mark the grave Fuck your guns, Fuck your wars Fuck your truck, Fuck your flag
Fade cream, all erased I can’t remember who you are Hear and taste all erased I can’t remember who you are The Simone Hotel… Guard! Guard! Light a candle, pull the handle You are erased And now sow bugs the size of real sows?! Dear Dr. Duck, What’s the solution for people like us Long Gone Harmonica, Boogie Woogie Clair Sleepy Pee Wee, Junior Little Buddy Jelly Roll Cacao, Geeshee Purple Champion Kitty Light a candle, pull the handle You are erased It would be twice as good If you lay down on the track Half for the trash, half for the hornets It could be four times as good If you lie down there again A quarter for the gooseberry bush A quarter for the gooseberry bug It was the clarinet that made you deaf Not the coming train Connie…
Normal Love 03:38
What have you become? I can’t say so Yet run full-on to Run towards nothing No, Yes, Yeah, No Yes, No, What, No Normal Love Sprinkle goofer dust Spill Chum-Churum Secrets of the Psalms might uncross anything No, Yes, Yeah, No Yes, No, What, No Normal Love I want to pretend, but I cannot pretend That you don’t want me to speak Nor to blink That you don’t want me to feel attractive Nor feel pride I think in the end I don’t need to feel pride Normal Love I think I have shown you I don’t need it to be fair I think I have shown I don’t need you to be kind Just let me pretend I have something to lose


It could be handfuls of reds

It could be turning Caravaggio’s Boy with Basket of Fruit to face the wall

It could be a commission by the Guggenheim entitled Deforms the Unborn

It could be the demon Vetis, whose friends call Him The Life Promiser

It could be that in 1918 a pregnant Mary Turner was hung upside down from a tree by a lynch mob while they cut out her fetus & that this could happen today, as it did then, without consequences for whitey

It could be handfuls of natural pearls

It could be collaborations with master Haitian drummers

It could be doing the wrong thing together forever

It could be long lists of how The Devil’s acts towards children before, during & after their possession

It could be short lists of produce, insects & imagined blues musicians

It could be handfuls of an insane 9 year old's feces smushed on the lunch table

It could be a psychedelic Chicago house song about a pig & about your parents

It could be your dad’s new husband gave you his boyhood viola

It could be a collaboration with master Yoruba drummers

It could be handfuls of cactus spines & a poison dart

It could be your sister has cancer & they keep chopping parts of her body off

It could be a conscripted arco bass piece that was a dedication to Turkish feminists

It could be Jack Smith has a film called Normal Love

It could be scisssssssors, air conditioner tubes, glasses of ice & seashells

It could be handfuls of hot pink Make Noise 1/8inch audio cables

It could be that Nature is making it clear to us that we deserve it and that we are making it clear to Her that we are ready, ready to go

It could be a short novel called The Rhythm Section Talked about Drugs, The Horn Players Talked about Ass & The Strings Talked about Money

It could be improvised vocals by Elliot Reed & orchestrated vocals by Eugene Robinson

It could be that European religious paintings of male martyrs depict them surrounded by chubby, adoring angels, everyone’s tearful mothers & converted sex workers dutifully sponging out their holy & shallow wounds

It could be that European religious paintings of female martyrs depict them with their nipples being torn off, throats branded & their naked torsos flayed while they are totally alone aside from the men torturing them

It could be handfuls of Diamanda Galás & Roy Orbison action figures

It could be that despite the confusion of this life, people who can still truthfully call themselves human try to push through 2019’s collecting horror

It could be slowed down & fuzzed out field recordings of disappearing frogs

It could be flat purple & black or glossy black & purple

It could be mescal in a bottle & baby on a boob, hair dyed blonde for nobody, nobody move

It could be handfuls of that you just have to stop being a wuss & deal with it

It could be…


released February 8, 2019


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Xiu Xiu Los Angeles, California

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