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Dialectics

by G.A.S. DRUMMERS

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1.
Grey Words 02:14
Grey words are those to make me stay On the thin line of desire and celebrating iconography. What's the price of submission? Call it "breakdown", call it "background", even executive violence. Born and raised in disbelief, Educated by TV... So easily burnt, weak, fucked of the defeat, Behind the showcase there's a sordid landscape with a battle of saints. Show me scars and books with figures, Erase the pain statistically, Bring your self made man ambitions Combined with your class -commodity. I recall this history I more last shot to defy your destiny.
2.
Miamized 02:44
Miamized, this is life without regrets, With a plastic pandemonium We can hide the pain and sorrow of the people in this Land. In every town, we can mask reality, In this ontologic drama of Division and undercover you Must pay to exist. Culture is denied, forget it brother! Look miamized, eat miamized, wear miamized And do the exact moves or you will be threatened and Blacklisted, Rejected and damned to live in fear. Culture is denied, forget it brother! Look miamized, eat miamized, wear miamized We like to watch the show but we know what is the truth We know the truth In latinamerica, every city is Miamized, In Europe and usa we're getting there. The ones that cannot hold this way of life are called Subcitizens This is the truth that we all know There are a few names who rule a town, a country, A world or uprights and subcitizens.
3.
In this world of contradictions We go on by intuition, We're apparently persistent... Without hopes, without base, without pleasure, Without names we don't know what is our purpose. Everywhere we look there's pose Beautiful peel and rotten core Everything is imperfectly aesthetic. We don't defy this mechanism, We don't design a new design We just keep it like this. Without hopes, without base, without pleasure, Without names We don't know what is our purpose. We don't know, we keep it like this. Impulsively, we follow the traces of culture, We blindly use the dictates of fashion, We like to keep it like this.
4.
We're breaking on through the crowded landscapes Trying to find out our own lines, We're lost in the game of giving newer names, Lost in our cities, lost in the universe. It goes beyond strikes and demonstrations, But I cannot find the words. (let's try this) Like a wounded dog in the middle of a crossroads We're supossed to change the direction of the world. So we better wake up from our apathetic slumber And be ready for the smash-up, Like the king of the fool we could demand the moon So it's time to celebrate that a new song is in the air. It goes beyond strikes and demonstrations, But I cannot find the words. I don't blame diversity, but fragmentation indeed.
5.
Will you still need this song when epopees are over? Our heroes died a thousand times, yeah we all know it. Who's representing our community? I don't want to know About The same failed promises that come and go, wasting our Trust, Covering our bones. Do you still need me when the prices are up? Do you still fill the gap with non decent jobs? Do you still use the old and waste the young? Will you still need a song when your career is over, I'll be there to celebrate, to tear down your monuments And turn on the page. Who's representing our community? I don't want to know About The same failed promises that come and go, wasting our Trust, Covering our bones. Do you still need me when the prices are up? Do you still fill the gap with non decent jobs? Do you still use the old and waste the young? ... and some workers are part of your deal, What is our class if we don't give a fuck? Where is emancipation and equal rights? Modernity is dead, ghosts are back.
6.
Wasting a life for every sin, I remained inconscious in a deadly scene, Turned off the lights, who am I to stay? Just nothing. It's hard to walk the simple way of one million patterns, Once you find out a secret trace that's buried in time. Wasted your life for having no dreams, Remained inmanent through the years, And when your back folds you've got nothing else to say, A whole life of work and one million patterns. It's hard to walk the simple way of one million patterns, Once you find out a secret trace that's buried in time. A man can feel lucky for doing what he wants, In this boring race, some are committed to agony Some are the pretty face. American Dream is just a big lie.
7.
Like the craziest pilots are we crashing the same Building down? Like in Marxist revisions are we willing for a economy Crack as a premonition? Nothing is more cynical than the culture industry We all agree, we stand for the recreation of myths. Expectators in silence that are carrying the weight of The world on their own And the symbols will burn, the bad and good ones, Stickers, t-shirts, book, cds, and posters on your wall Because nothing is more cynical than the culture Industry... We all agree, we stand for the recreation of myths. From the city to the country, for the weak and for the Brave There're nations who workship all these new divinities We prefer one big imposture to a minor piracy So close your eyes and shut your mouths we're got nothing Else to say.
8.
The Call 02:30
Somebody is on the phone, you expect that is the call To change the way you already live You astray before you lift and you recall those dreams, To answer that ficticious voice. "I want you in my film, at my tv show", Recourring dreams That we are sold, spectacular ways to keep in line, If you're not inside, you are not. Cheap entertainment's worth a million lives, We all know this is the truth but Here goes a simple quest: what will our children learn? You rather keep waiting for that call. Devored by a fairy tale that is just the lie we live, To appear on the TV Screen "I want you in my film, at my tv show", Recourring dreams That we are sold, spectacular ways to keep in line, No matter how, this is the big discourse. Put down the phone, there will be no answer.
9.
10.
Time is a life, life is a symbol, beyond all the grey texts there are children, hospitals and broken hearts. What is to sell is what to burn, what's to an end is a way to start To cut the big discourse we're floating by. Like re-discovering life, infinity is a frozen time Precise and patterned film in stock motion, paused and functionally organized. They said: "What's the price of history?" and right then they bought our silence. Rationally all social standards are economically captive and desire is capitalized, Am I moving too fast? Tensed up, Rised up, Priced up, Cracked down. This inner logic is a circle but some day complexity and simplicity will be the same. Like re-discovering life, infinity is a frozen time Precise and patterned film in stock motion, paused and functionally organized. They said: "what's the price of history?" and right then they bought our silence.
11.
Reasons are fading away as we turn back, There'll be no fight because What we have is nothing and Anything will beat it out of spectacularity Why don't we think where we belong and We face the world's been sold? Don't turn around And who are we producing for to tie Our hands with the chains of mass- consumption? We're still having nothing but images and prices, Categorised labels to be sold to somebody else, Why don't we think where we belong And we face the world's been sold? Don't turn around. Think, where do we belong?
12.
Dear Reader 02:59
Tell me what you expect from me'cause I don't want to fail you I would not like to deceive. I'm not frightened anymore, why to do so? I'm being honest to you We're together growing old. What's going on with our surroundings? And with the culture industry? What's the matter with fashion? What is what believe? If our generation's lost We should try and prepare the youngest readers to Analyze, Understand, to discredit our myths Or just to know what they should disobey, This is not hard to say. What's going on with our surroundings? And with the culture industry? Don't we let ignorance become the worst desease. I wrote this foreword because I do think this song is made for you Carry out what you must, I'll be on your side. What's going on with our surroundings? And with the culture industry? What we believe.
13.
I know something else about this town, Something that you know but you keep it underground Something about old friends, about the pictures that you held And took with you the day you were gone. Everything has changed now that I know What is lying low beneath the ground of this imitation zone, But where is the relief older generations need? Is it me? Is it anyone? And I won't build this town, I won't build its future Until the voice of justice make a single sound I won't build this town. There is something personal in this, My constant obsession to know our place in history We've been given an script full of empty characters in scene And everyone is too bored to rise and too lost to fight. And I won't build this town, I won't build its future Until the voice of justice make a single sound I won't build this town.

credits

released October 24, 2003

Recorded and mixed by Paco Loco at Odds Studios, El Puerto de Sta. María (Cádiz) September 2003
Produced by Paco Loco
Mastered by JM Rosillo
Artwork by Binnaryworks
Guest Musicians:
Paco Loco - electric and pedal steel guitar
Muni Camón - vocals

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G.A.S. DRUMMERS Jerez De La Frontera, Spain

G.A.S. DRUMMERS is a punk rock band from south Spain. They started in 1998 and have toured ever since throughout Europe and once in north America. the band is one of the few survivors from the 90’s in Europe that never called it quits.
Their sound gets influences from hardcore punk, 80’s American underground rock and power-pop, and their lyrics are inspired by Marxist and anarchist thinkers.
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