Dead Lights – Elevator Muzak In Heaven

Official music video 'Elevator Muzak In Heaven' per­formed by 'Dead Lights' taken from the album 'Glitterspit'.

Dead Lights, an artist from England, presents "Elevator Muzak In Heaven", a song that blurs genre bound­ar­ies. This track is a haunt­ing exper­i­ence that com­bines EBM and synth pop in a dark and ener­get­ic mix.

From the begin­ning, you can feel the dark atmo­sphere of the song. The dark syn­thes­izers and pulsat­ing beats are remin­is­cent of bands like Front 242 with the eer­ie sar­casm of a Marilyn Manson, yet Dead Lights adds a unique touch. The track's midtempo lends it dance­ab­il­ity while reveal­ing a mys­ter­i­ous depth.

Lyrically, "Elevator Muzak In Heaven" is ded­ic­ated to an American televangelist's idea of heav­en. Dead Lights thereby iron­ic­ally expresses the super­fi­ci­al­ity and chees­iness of this notion. Overall, "Elevator Muzak In Heaven" is a dark, ener­get­ic song that car­ries a crit­ic­al note. Fans of EBM and synth pop will be thrilled by this track.

This song is part of our Spotify playl­ist ‘New Synth Pop Songs 2023‘. The playl­ist is updated con­tinu­ously. Follow this playl­ist now and don’t miss any of the latest synth pop hits in 2023.

Listen to 'Dead Lights – Elevator Muzak In Heaven' on Spotify

Listen to 'Dead Lights – Elevator Muzak In Heaven' on Bandcamp

Lyrics of 'Dead Lights – Elevator Muzak In Heaven'

Despite our best laid plans.
There’s always work for idle hands.
And tonight, as we lay awake,
A thought takes shape.
I’ll be Cain, you be Abel.
We’ll climb the tower of Babel.
To call God on the party line.
Talk in all the tongues of swine.
We see the divine out­lined with a neon sign.
His blood, the taste of cheap wine.

Through my tears I see Elysium.
Liquor pour­ing easy, God’s got a gun.
Every channel’s show­ing soft core porn.
Starring saints and believ­ers reborn.
This is it, as good as it gets.
We’ve got cheap cigar­ettes and Russian roulette.
There’s such sights in the mid­night heat.
Well, you should see the view from the pent­house suite.

Afar, archangels in automobiles.
Driving muscle cars through the Elysian Fields.
Chasing girls like the guid­ing star.
Looking suave, smoking Cuban cigars.
They’ve got the same song play­ing on repeat.
While doing bumps of coke in the back seat.
A motor­cade like an army.
Cruising under red lights and palm trees.

Yeah, these pearly gates,
They open ’til late.

It looks like a tour­ist trap.
Kitsch bars and gift shops selling crap.
Why not buy your own messiah?
Who knew Jesus was made in China?
Sold by Mother Mary, now endowed with silicon.
His king­dom, more like Babylon.
The angels’ got f*ckin’ plastic wings.
And all God’s people sing.

Hallelujah!
Sing Hallelujah!

There’s elev­at­or muzak in heaven.
The strip clubs are open from seven.
The over­weight, old and nameless.
Enter the gates, this place is Las Vegas.

This place is Las Vegas.
For the infirm and nameless.

There’s elev­at­or muzak in heaven.
They turn that shit up to eleven.
There’s elev­at­or muzak in heaven.
And they turn that sh*t up to eleven.

Dead Lights about 'Elevator Muzak In Heaven'

What would an American tel­ev­an­gel­ists idea of heav­en be like? A cheap, tacky, gaudy, plastic tour­ist des­tin­a­tion. Filled with super­fi­cial enter­tain­ment and all the filth and sleaze they des­per­ately tried (and mostly failed!) to res­ist dur­ing their time on earth. If heav­en is sup­posed to be para­dise, then this would be para­dise for them; Las Vegas, with God singing show tunes, Jesus behind the black­jack table, and the archangels cruis­ing the strip every night, act­ing as holy pimps and push­ers with a back­drop of flash­ing neon.