1. |
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The air reeks of tension, I’m sorry you lost your home did I bother to mention? My name is Jack, I’m a middle class kid with a great disposition and I know none of this information is going to help us at all.
And I know you’re asking why did I come here? Well I’m here for a song and a sound I’ve been following around for far too long. It’s bigger than where I come from it’s a language without words; it’s a language without words.
It’s going to help us connect and find a new dialogue. Monologues are great but we need to resonate beyond their borders and greed, beyond their illusions of the need to raise a fist, let’s turn hazy days into clarity after rain. No I won’t refrain.
Drain my love and let it wash away, drain your love and let it wash away, drain our love and let it wash away all our reasons to hate.
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2. |
West Coast Winter Blues
05:08
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From Silverlake to East LA, riding on trains and buses just to get to the show, we’re going to play for the traveller kids and pretend everything’s ok. We’re going to play a show under the bridge and pretend that this city’s not on fire.
Julio and his friends they took me in. Unfortunately I was too heartbroken to care. Crossing train tracks, smoking blunts with gangsters. I was pretending to be an urban Tom Sawyer, just pastimes to avoid the fact, to avoid the plain fact, the fact that I’m alone and I miss her.
So I got on a bus and drove into the desert, I rode with The Rail Yard Ghosts and The Nomad Mountain Outlaws. Saw the loneliness in Skid Row and in Vegas was told by a pretty lady that Scientology was going to save us.
The bus that I was on was made roadworthy by The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test, Ken Kesey was watching over me as I stared into the desert. Winter took no prisoners; my African bones froze to the core. (Winter took no prisoners; my African bones froze to the core.)
I cried myself to sleep on cold floors; I had never felt so alone yet more alive. I cried myself to sleep on cold floors.
Gazed at San Francisco from the golden gate bridge, never thought I’d make it this far, did it all to debunk the myth. The only hero that you have is inside of you, when you find the strength to continue the fight and move on. Strong currents out at sea, there’s no angel watching over me and I couldn’t care.
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3. |
No Love For Savage Souls
03:01
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Avos and Pears for dinner, no one to share a meal with, but I don’t mind. All I want is someone to wake up next to tomorrow. A little more sex would be nice, but I really don’t care because all I want is someone to wake up next to tomorrow.
And that morning that you left, your scent still lingering on my pillow and I didn’t get a chance to take you out for Sunday breakfast and I’d really like to wake up next to her again, so I can make sure that she’s real and not a ghost inside my head.
And I stared into her brown eyes and they trapped a part of me. I kept wondering and thinking maybe this is all just a dream. Your chocolate skin and flaming hair they took away all my despair, now all I’m asking is, are you real?
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4. |
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I cried my tear duct dry. I cried for my own selfish reasons. I wept for only her.
When I should have spared a moment for all those forgotten souls, sunken spirits linger in the crevices of forgotten worlds, of forgotten worlds.
I’ll hate you on Monday morning, by Friday evening we’ll be friends.
I should have wept for refugees living in foreign lands, far away from home (far away from home). Massacres brought forth by profiting wars. Yes I should have cried for the people I've lost along the way but I was too consumed by my own bullshit. I should have spared a thought for the downtrodden. Yes I should have wept for so many other things, even this atrocious poetry.
I’ll hate you on Monday morning, by Friday evening we’ll be friends.
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5. |
Therapy at 4am
04:50
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6. |
Dirty Remedy
04:06
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I want to get down down down down, deep down and dirty. I want to explore that side of my psyche so I can let this light shine on through. See every side and angle.
I want to get down down down down, deep down and dirty. I want to explore that side of my psyche. It’s the only path I have to steer me away from insanity. It’s the only weapon I can use to fight this lunacy.
I need to do the opposite; I have to deceive the convention. Intervention, I’m relentless. Walking in the dark for a reason, oh I’m pleading to get a chance to define my own divine. Don’t want to follow no masters, towards the light. This isn’t a fight; all we want is rest, peace and understanding. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t ready to raise a fist.
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7. |
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The shapes of the rocks conjure imagery of planets in distant galaxies. The cold freezes aching bones. The cold travels from the depths of her misery or is it just Mother Nature’s reality? The trees are bare and my heart is a dark place, alone again, fear consumes me. Stark splendor, cold blue desert wonder, won’t change my mind on any matter.
I’m not afraid of death but I’m afraid of dying here. I’m not afraid of death but I’m afraid of dying here. I’d rather die in a valley in the Transkei. I’d rather die near my home in KwaZulu-Natal.
I’m totally out of my depth and I’m really not punk enough for any of this. The traveller kids riding in the winter season, got on a bus didn’t really even know where I was going. Supposed to get to Texas but I scrapped that plan, maybe you could say I’m not a strong enough man. Life on the road is a lesson not a holiday. I thank you Mom and Dad for calling me every day.
The engine of the bus growls at me furiously, it’s ready to leave, I’m never sure of my place. A pretty girl with an unfamiliar face asks me ‘When will I see you again?’ I reply, ‘Probably never’. She places a kiss on my cheek, the gears shift into first; I’m last on the bus. I’ll never see that girl again; the highway makes ghost towns of everything.
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8. |
Airports as Portals
05:50
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9. |
Bambelela
06:46
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Heat wave descends from the Berg country winds and we pray for rain, yes we dance for rain. It doesn’t come for days, sweat brings a glow and we all walk alone, yes we all walk alone, past buildings and trees, contemplating defeat, but I will not retreat, until I reach the shore. Drought comes to us as I turn to dust. I wash myself clean in the salty dreams of the Indian Ocean.
I would give up everything if I could, I’d give up anything and everything and everything I would. I’d give up anything if it could only take away all your hurting.
Chorus:
Bambelela….. Bambelela
Um’uthando Luphelie / Selufile
Bambelela….. Bambelela
Um’umfula usuwomile /nezi
Nyembezi / zinga neli
Bambelela
Second verse:
A gypsy cursed me years ago on a train ride in India, since that dreadful day I’ve never been the same my heart dried up like a dusty old well, well at least I have this pretty good story to tell. I became the walking dead, I became a soulless piece of lead and I would not wish this fate on anyone.
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10. |
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GroundSweep Records Durban, South Africa
A DIY, for the love recording label. Which serves as a platform to archive Matt Vend's creative process. This bandcamp page also includes a few artists whose music he happened to produce. And some of his old bands including Sibling Rivalry, The Accidentals and The Tubby Wilson's. Many of these releases are also available at We Did This Records. All music up for donation. X ... more
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