1. |
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2. |
Social Contract
01:54
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Our social contract makes me a bad storyteller. I can't complain, it's not a part of my responsibilities. Our social contact is miscommunication. Official stories misconceive significance to unimportance. I can't tell a single thing without trespassing a no man's land. This story is a pretty entertaining read. Telling you about what I feel ends up being about what I do. I can't find my language and you can't find myself. I cannot complain to you although you'd know what to do. Our social contact is miscommunication.
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3. |
Dim the Lights
01:33
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We can no longer sleep because the fun is not enough. The days just keep on going but the night comes way too fast. Make the light dim, but your eyes still stare. We can no longer sleep because there's too much life in spare.
What is it that we cannot understand? That we never wanted. Isn't it torture? The essence is burdened to all. We can no longer sleep because there's too much life in spare.
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4. |
Flags/People
01:17
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Liquidise your prestige, piss it out down the drain. It will always stay that way. Drink it, drink it and you're poisoned with pride. It will always stay that way.
Spit it out, embrace the differences in their similitude.
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5. |
Play it Out in the Real
01:47
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We will change when we find our critique; when the language we speak reflects our angst; when our inner parts are parts of ourselves; when we've sold every commodity that replaces the image of ourselves.
"Change comes when critique has been played out in the real, not when reformers have realised their ideas."
The language we speak is devoid of critique. It's full of paper, inequality and shit. And we can't see it, can we?
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6. |
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The bottom's reached and now we can turn back. I feel the point where things could be good again. Start to remember things that made us. It is now we smile. But instead, we sorrow. The abyss is reached.
The abyss is reached. How the fuck could you die?
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7. |
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Building after building, a construction site in constant flow over the spatial surroundings. What does it give to me? Can you build me a life worth walking through alienated dying streets? I want to know the meaning behind the spaces that don't represent anything to me but control, hierarchy and waste.
I think it's a trap that we are built into. Living space is bureaucracy and we are its dead weight. What does it give to me? Can you build me a life worth walking through alienated dying streets? Illusion.
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8. |
Truth and Reconciliation
02:05
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A conversation without an introduction. A study of contempt. When everything around is an unstructured mess. When every context is a substanceless sentence.
I cannot write because there is nothing to say that is true enough for you to process.
Truth. The circle is shut. Let us ejaculate into a feeling of deceit.
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9. |
Representations of Space
02:42
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Zone in, zone out. Red lights to red lines. My city is depicted as possibilities of private profit. Hopes of an exciting everyday life diminished to boredom. Anxiety as everydayness.
Poverty around the streets solved by state control. State control owned by money making. What is depicted as functionality is city life as part of a machine. Hopes of an exciting everyday life diminished to boredom. Anxiety as everydayness.
What the fuck are you right about? Zoom in, zoom out - zone in and zone out. We are separated by red lines between red lights. Zone in, zone out. Outside of this programme's boundaries, there's shit in the sewers of an apartment block.
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10. |
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Varför fångas jag av vanligheter och ordinära ting för att kringgå väsentligheter. Jag slänger nyckeln från ytterdörren, drar ner spånjalusierna. Kapabel är ledordet. Jag ser ner på mina slappa händer. Jag vill beställa en försäkring mot fiasko. Min vardagliga prestation är en mask som skänker frihet.
Jag gråter nog först utan att veta anledningar. Att fatta sig själv, att veta ens skäl - det ger ingen frihet men visst fan vore det bra. Jag vill beställa en försäkring mot fiasko.
Undrar om de andra tänker som jag? Om mig?
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11. |
Forlorn
01:39
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Skeletons running down the streets. Open the doors and get the fuck out. Now it is time to bleed. It's time to put the seed into the ground. To let our liquid drizzle, the secretions drip. Create a fat land to live on. Make room for the forgotten.
Skeletons running down the streets. Open the doors and get the fuck out. Now it is time to bleed. I wonder if they will be like us.
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12. |
Требушет
03:25
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Я сын с глубокой надеждой. Я тут, с мыслями обширными, идеями большими. Но мне нечего сказать. Я не знаю кто я тут и зачем я там. Только то, что мне не все равно. Как нам узнать, кто мы такие. Догадки загородили дороги к друг другу. Но мне нечего сказать. Я не знаю кто я тут и зачем я там.
К общему пространству тяну руки, пытаясь смотреть в другую сторону. Надеюсь увидишь, но знаю не скажешь.
Я сын с глубокой надеждой. Я тут, с мыслями обширными,
с идеями большими. Но ты не знаешь, что спросить. Я не знаю, кто я тут и зачем я там.
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No Heroes Records Berlin, Germany
Berlin based DIY record label focused on developing and releasing honest alternative music.
Email:
contact@noheroesrecords.com
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