by Cannibales & Vahinés

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


released April 23, 2012

Tractor Notown, NOT 02


all rights reserved



G.W. Sok Amsterdam, The Netherlands

G.W. Sok co-founded The Ex in 1979 and was their singer and lyricist for 30 years. (See www.theex.nl for their discography.) Since 2009 he is involved in various other musical projects, such as Detective Instinct (UK), Zoikle (NL), Beukorkest (NL), Cannibales & Vahinés (F), King Chsmpion Sounds (UK/NL), Filiamotsa (F)... ... more

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Track Name: 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
Track Name: 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
Track Name: 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
Track Name: 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
Track Name: 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
Track Name: 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:
Track Name: 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
Track Name: 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
Track Name: 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?
Track Name: 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

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