by Cannibales & Vahinés

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2-2-3 FRIDGES A car per person, will that be the rule or a private jet for every other fool and does each home need ten rooms and a swimming pool and why do we think that two to three fridges are cool? And these homes with those rooms where we gonna build them? and once they are built how we’re gonna fill them? We lay claim to human genes public archives, village greens and we retreat to our gated communities with sensors, guards, and closed-circuit TVs We’re not even surprised why so many fences rise We just lock ourselves in to lock others out forgetting like fuck what life is all about and all the junk we collect are substitutes and fractions of what we used to call human interaction We’re not even surprised why so many fences rise Talk to your neighbours instead of to your telly think with your heart and not with your belly the nuts in our heads, are they brains or jelly why not admit that the rats are too smelly The rats are too smelly? the rats are too smelly! When do we start facing the damage we’ve done when do we stop pretending that in fact there is none when do we start doing things right instead of wrong when do we stop pretending we can solve it with a song Talk to your neighbours think with your heart the nuts in our heads... Rats, they are smelly
No can do 03:58
NO CAN DO Sometimes they say oh oh it’s good for me to go in this or that direction where it’s better than before and they seem to know the score and there’s all kinds of action And then they mention stupid things like a barbidoll that sings or another prefab trend or a garden of cement sometimes they say oh oh it’s good for me to go in this or that direction... I don’t wanna go where the masses go they’re not the kind of masses I would wanna know I don’t wanna do what all the others do without all the idiots I can be happy too Maybe I don’t wanna be an umpteenth clone maybe I want something to call my own I better get it done and I’ll do it just for fun and that’s good enough for starters All the rubbish we can buy all the deaths that one can die is anybody watching me well, none of this appeals to me not any of those actions all those stupid actions... Real life soap TV courses in stupidity mindless conversations these microwave sensations politics of flying kites cover ups and stupid lies... sometimes I say no
Rid 05:51
RID There are many ways to kill someone there are many ways to kill somebody and all these ways, one must agree have a lifelong guarantee Let someone bite the bullet stick a knife into his chest do not cure him from his illness health is such a costly pest Don’t put hunger on the menu just deny him decent food make him work himself almost to death and then give him the boot Stack him in a lousy home and cage him like a rat drive him towards suicide and that’s the end of that Or send him to war etcetera hush-hush, rush don’t hesitate because only a little of all this is forbidden by the state There are many ways to kill someone there are many ways to kill somebody and most of these, the judge agrees have lifelong guarantees
APHRODITE IMPROV A soul without prison the need to be free states of confusion who am I, are you me Warlords in the room a chat with Aphrodite discussing the necessity of a just society Hope springs eternal in the human breast man wife sister brother all put to the test
STRANGE FRUIT Southern trees bear strange fruit blood on the leaves and blood at the root black bodies swinging in the Southern breeze strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees Pastoral scene of the gallant South the bulging eyes and the twisted mouth the scent of magnolia sweet and fresh then the sudden smell of burning flesh Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck for the rain to gather, for the wind to suck for the sun to rot, for the tree to drop here is a strange and bitter crop
THIS CURRENT STATE 26,000 men and women lost in this current state this lowest Land of Oz, just because of their main crime: papers that are missing and all their efforts are like pissing in the wind and filed in print They’ll fight they’ll scream they’ll lie or might even start a fire when they see no other way... When they see no other way they’ll do almost anything to stay that sounds rather human, I would say But still, the question is... are we connected in this current state ’cause everytime it gets that close: power failure overdose
LAZARUS LISTEN Now Lazarus, luister, écoute, listen to me: when the clocks will strike their stellar voices and the boulevards no longer hang about the ground, you will be able to stand up in this weird century Me, I used to sell the Paris-Soir on Babylon Road, when jet-propelled planes wore feathers and shouted soft songs like a concert of mist, down this Orient with their microphone throats As long as I have breath and ink in my street and the Northern wind to open my veins, a stubborn sea will reign in me and it’ll hold my hand in the rising tide of dreams Who will speak the passion of the vintage at mass? this red song redder than the reddest meat? who will tell the virginity of our caresses when Jesus passes through our teeth? Nothing beats the beauty of a misty lay morning when the sun still dozes on a dormitory’s shelf, and the gauze in the plain gets consumed like an incense-grin when the incense burner shakes itself I live, from today on I am dead in wax, my voice micro-grooves a neglected soil, they read me anywhere on delirium day, at juke-box time when the fairies rave and toil In the jailed azure lazing under the memory, with Maldoror in one hand and De Sade in for a laugh, I am galvanised gold and I go astray under the diamond head of a fake phonograph My voice, soon, under the plastic moon when my presumed carcass will have fawned, and the Romeos in the public squares smugly throw the nestled cats lines till dawn My voice will rock them into the cradles of the pass, make yourself at home and hang your coat, my friend, I am the lost shepherd sniffing for a trace of my sheep, freshly sheared after the newest trend Life is a barge on which catchy tunes break, tears are the waves, pain is the roll, and sometimes happiness invents foresails... for this tub, which unfurls and folds
SHOUTING AT THE MOON In former days I used to stand on a high steep rock, at any kind of noon where they could find me, shouting at the moon because it makes you realize that you’re alive instead of falling and thinking that you dive I want to be standing on that rock again, the roof now, the roof soon I want to be standing there, standing there and shouting at the moon Using all your lungs for that seems so much more okay instead of all that breath-taking bullshit every day because its soul reaches up to the skies and the light of those skies touches your eyes and it penetrates your head where those brains are so twisted that you need a lot of light to make that twilight situation bright you gotta reach for the sun, gotta reach for the stars for all the higher sources of light and sometimes you might need to kill a lion just to keep an eye on the earth We have forgotten about the skies and we’ve build ceilings instead and more ceilings underneath and we walk on high heels and the space above our heads gets smaller and smaller instead The space above our heads gets smaller and smaller, and instead of looking up we’re looking straight ahead, to the TV or the clock and we don’t reach out for a dream anymore, we just grab but only in the vulgar plain we grab we tried so hard to make this whole world round and now we make it flat again, and that’s a fact that’s the fact we have to face we have lost all sense of space So I, I want to be standing on that rock again, the roof now, the roof soon I want to be standing there, standing there and shouting at the moon
THE BELLY AND THE BEAST Ears of wax in the blind man’s heart was it on the cards? he sees the wait, he hears the gate he doesn’t want you on his plate Deaf for your knock-knock-knocking at the door where you lose count, and more his trained brains beat about the bush you can hear his mighty pencil push There is no rest in the fish-eyed chest safe behind the desk he’s throwing-up, he’s throwing-out in good taste, on his roundabout He makes a meal of letting you wait you hang on hang on hang on like bait you’re out-of-sight, you’re out-of-mind a close encounter of the very unkind What you’re gonna do now, when the fishy chips are down what you’re gonna do now, drown? drown? or will it be a journey... a journey to the belly... the belly of the neigbour... the neighbour of the beast? Destination 667 or was it 665 don’t be too sure it’s next to heaven god’s mercy, too, has proved a lie Sometimes the truth is hard to swallow sometimes promises are hollow oh it’s so easy to get cheesed and find yourself back in the back in the belly of the beast What you’re gonna do? now now now drown drow drown? what you’re gonna do now?
NIGHT AND DAY I was the abstract rider on horseback on Neptune – night and day – night and day a horrible night owl living at point blank range – night and day – night and day the biologists in the bars made a fortune – night and day – night and day by pouring Pernod into the rivers of blood – night and day – night and day Thump thump thump, scream scream scream thump scream shout, and turn it all about And the ink undresses in people’s faces the sperm of news wears black eye-liner sensational and supernews, my arse makes you wanna turn back into a bird I was thinking vaginas and didn’t know the time I had tired whores at the end of my bonehouse – night and day – night and day I was knitting at a 100 miles per hour I’ll have easy sweaters to hibernate – night and day – night and day I smashed the alarm clocks and the watches and women swallowed their lovers’ eggs – night and day – night and day the ocean of your arse unfurls on my backstage seat your cancer is 2 days old and you are 18 – night and day – night and day Thump thump thump, scream scream scream... The ink dries fast on people’s paws and the blood of the news blushes in their hands stupid news and daft, and my arse makes you wanna swift into fourth gear Thump thump thump, scream scream scream... The ink gives people deep memories and the news is playing in the four corners of the world news at the bowels of the worldwide news makes you wanna throw up in the quadrature They say the Truth went to the bathroom and didn’t pull the plug: the Truth is disgusting They say the Truth went to the toilet and that she didn’t flush: the Truth ís disgusting And you my love, you will never lie to me you always tell the truth – night and day – night and day


Nicolas Lafourest - guitar
Fabien Duscombs - drums
Marc Démereau - saxophones, electronics, saw
G.W. Sok - voice


released April 23, 2012

VINYL COPIES are also available from EX MAILORDER (exmailorder.nl/shop/sok).

Tractor Notown, NOT 02


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G.W. Sok Amsterdam, Netherlands

G.W. Sok co-founded The Ex in 1979 and was their singer and lyricist for 30 years (www.theex.nl). Since 2009 he is involved in various other projects, such as Action Beat (UK), Zoikle (NL), Cannibales & Vahinés (F), King Champion Sounds (UK/NL), Coddiwomple (F), Oiseaux-Tempête (F), L&S (F). And there's some solo stuff as well. ... more

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