by Giz Medium

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All songs written between ’16 and ’18 and as influenced by a pessimist take on things ‘political’ than hope in friendships both new and old. Recorded live at Old Tree Studio, in Salon-de-Provence, fRance by Thomas Palmade in December ’18. Thanks to lovers, penpals, housemates and other friends, for writing letters and creating beautiful things that make the world a better place and motivate the ’hope’ I meant, even though I will could not and would not name you all. Thanks also to the various collectives that helped along the way : La Salle Gueule, l’Humus, C4, CIRA-Marseille, Coffee Breath for Liberation, Le Local Autogéré, Canine, Neuvegramme, Nana, Staghorn, Chaviré, Cambarada, Kalashnikov, Pagaille, Breakdown Editions, Klinika, Janara, Infoshop Knjižnica Pippilotta, Sole e baleno, Insurreale, RC10, Lunanera, DIY Conspiracy, Campagne3000 & Mazagran (RIP).

European tour MMXIX.

27.5 Ambert : L'élégante
28.5 OFF
29.5 Paris : L'Impondérable
30.5 OFF
31.5 Bruges : Zundag
1.6 OFF
3.6 Den Haag / De ruige rog
4.6 Bremen : Sportamt
6.6 Flensburg : Bäckerei
7.6 Malmo : Anarchist bookfair pre-show!
8.6 Göteborg : Farsot w/ Jonas Selander & James Bar Bowen
9.6 Oslo HELP!
10.6 Bergen HELP!
11.6 Trondheim HELP!
12.6 Bodø HELP!
13.6 Tromsø HELP!
14.6 OFF
15.6 Kiruna HELP!
16.6 Luleå HELP!
17.6 Oulu : Tukikohta w/ Toni Kettinen & Kadonnut Manner
18.6 Tampere : Yläkerta w/ Toni Kettinen
19.6 Helsinki : Squat Kumma w/ Toni Kettinen & Zuge
20.6 Tallinn : Anemon12
21.6 Riga : tba
22.6 Vilnius : tba
23.6 Kaunas / Socialinis Centras "Emma"
24.6 Warszawa / Houseshow
25.6 Krakow / Spółdzielnia Ogniwo
26.6 Olomouc / Klid v Ruchu
27.6 Praha w/ Beltza Gorria
28.6 Stutggart / Munchen / Zurich / Bern HELP!
29.6 Lausanne / Geneve HELP!
30.6 Marseille : La Salle Gueule


released February 21, 2019




Bus Stop Press

DIY punk label & anarchist infokiosque from Marseille.

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Track Name: Song for Miss Marsol
and for every street named louise michel like they meant it / for every corner that doesn’t have a cop standing tonight to protect and serve all the folks who came out dressed as 1940’s resistance fighters / but where are the real ones now? is there any one now? those carry the flags of the enemies they’d been fighting / it’s the kind of mess of fighting wars but letting the ideas steep in / what was true then’s still true now / that the law is the cop who kicks down your door and justice is to stand up against them / open up those borders through the backwoods, and if you must open your house // and maybe, oh maybe I’ve never had any heroes / cuz deeply I knew I’d be disappointed by historical lies / but this is a folk song to tell tales and I have one fitting right here / she doesn’t wear no uniform, likely doesn’t carry a gun either / she just gave a ride to two people to the nearest train station they wouldn’t be snatched by cops at but they got caught // you know what happens in this country but back in 2015 it just hadn’t in a long time. After years of positivism in the language, changing words so that they meant something entirely different in order to never be able to criticize anything anymore. After years of that well, she got condemned by a tribunal. A tribunal like the one we have in Marseille with swastikas etched on its walls. This this day, she got condemned and the two hitchhikers likely deported back to a camp of refugees or to countries they were trying to escape. Deported by the same police and snitched on by the same train compagny workers like they’re used to. This doesn’t really stop all these people to dress up as resistance fighters once a year but fascism in Europe is alive and all too well. Her offence the court said was « solidarity ». In a world where solidarity is an offense of the law, abiding it is a crime. / In a world where solidarity is an offense of the law abiding by is a crime / you can dress up howether you want as today’s resistance fighters / it doesn’t matter as long as we bring it down…
Track Name: You believe in reforms yet call me a utopist
…bring them down, bring them down / let’s break it all to pieces and figure out what we can / but bring it down, bring it down / nothing in power can stay / because the whole thing is corrupt doesn’t matter what it says it’ll never stop the oppression / at best change its mode of access from birthright to merit / concessions in the details to never have to change, oh no / when I say it, I mean you and I and us and them / we all play our parts in this fucking system / as cogs more often than not but we’re the well greased pieces that keep it going and I don’t just mean casting no ballots while so many others are catching bullets or dodging teargas canisters most just keep on not doing any single thing / we all cheered when that cop car burned / but soon after went back home with nothing to hold onto as we moved on from that fact that we may be winning, but were we winning ? / at least tearing the covers / and underneath every emperor is always naked, every power violent, and no freedom were ever granted / and while this latest line may seem so naive to you / I won’t waste my time helping anyone to a position of power / I won’t waste anymore of my time helping anyone to cling to a position of power / so let’s just bring it down please burn it the down / break it all to pieces and figure out if there’s something worth keeping.
Track Name: Summer, always
been around the sun one more time, but the stars never ever changed place / of course they are made of plastic, and glued on the ceiling of my room / only glow for a minute when I go to sleep then vanish away / a bad excuse to answer for all my failures to escape // and just like the songs say we shouldn’t live where we can’t see the star / too much city lights from our rooftop but we seem to thrive any given way / it's never really winter in this town, a still-life stopped at the end of the reel but it won’t give way / // we’re not getting nowhere because there’s nowhere to go / staying put right here we’ll break the bulbs / smashing lights to look at the stars!
Track Name: To Adrien
going to oslo for a crush you got your heart handed back to you / I guess they wouldn't call it that if it didn't hurt / but we keep trying and keep crying / when we fail to replicate the relationships of our parents / and the jeans she keeps sewing are all patched up, nothing original left / it's just pretty fucking cool and it proves it works // so next time don't go to the store for a pair of skinny black denim / I got needles and black threat in my backpack / we'll skillshare not to stop at mending and throw out the patron / start something beautiful and new that would work for us.
Track Name: December 27th
sometimes I want the road to keep on stretching / to allow me more time to figure out / lonely and focused behind the stirring wheel / thinking about myself rather than a place to park / and driving all day, with no rado or tape deck anything / just this long road unfolding / but since you ask yeah it does feel lonely at times / but also really rich to get this time alone and with everyone of you though / don’t take me wrong there : more than three still makes a cowd and that makes me uncomfortable // but some other times you come home to twenty cute punks eating dinner on the rooftom / whatever if this contradicts somehow everything I thought I knew about self preservation / so let them go, nothing is cast in stone / to fake birthdays and other excuses for making new friends / let them go, let’s spread and scatted all-over / so we can finally get together at the end of this road / sometimes I want the road to keep on stretching.
Track Name: Aushwitz gift-shop
thousands of people died here / so many thousands murdered / that it’s a fucking common place / a fucking place to be reminded / that the heights of populism and management civilisation arrived first through ballot boxes / that the ideas of industrial progress at the expenses of some folks also resulted in their expropriation and forced labor / and while there still some concentration camps these days I’m nauseous in this parking lot when I see y’all with your cellphones taking selfies on front of the ruins of a crematorium / I’ll forever be puking here amidst your flags and your crosses while the line to the gift shop doesn’t seem to fade away.
Track Name: La Barque
That morning I woke up with an headache / the mouth full of mud bleeding out of my gums / the pounding motherfucker that I couldn’t reach not even with a coffee as bitter as my sense of humor / eyes clogged up with acidic tears cuz I’m too dehydrated to cry / that’s ok : Irony’s no longer the only way my time is wasted, so wasted, exhausted but jaded not enough to not feel the pain of the two guys kidnapped by a gang in the middle of a wide awoken street with no resistence, because they knew too well what would happen to them if they did / and that’s just one drop in the ocean of violence that comes along with those dressed in uniforms and howether much day after day and weeks after weeks in which we try to compensate by small victories all of the greater losses even if we already know those numbers won’t add up / I am not one to care much for efficiency and maths were never my strengh. because from being one of these people who are « nothing » it doesn’t have to mean THAT we don’t do shit because how much ones get paid to destroy a forest or build the bomb that tears wide appart a whole city block? how much does one gets paid to evict their neighbors? yeah, how much did you got paid for that? the world is fucked by people doing their jobs then doing nothing is the very least I can do / and jinxing the heck out of tiny sparks of hope to light out the despair off the whole fucking world there’s nothing to save that we couldn’t rebuilt or else it was not really needed to begin with / taking comfort in your friendships while all the rest lays to pieces there’s nothing to save that we couldn’t rebuild or else it was not t really needed to begin with / taking comfort in the ruins of a society / in which we were never really meant to be living / but working, consuming and breeding and dying, not really meant for anything but eventualy breaking free.

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