Punk

by Trench Party

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    what we have here are 6 songs I recorded for the shelved split with House Cat (tracks 2-6), 1 song I recorded a little while after that (track 1) and 1 song I recorded a long time after that but also pretty long ago (track 8). basically, these are all old songs that have never been released for various reasons that have been remastered for this EP. a sporadic return to asskicking indie-rock form and guitar punishment for "America's Trench Party".
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1.
2.
3.
02:26
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
02:33

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released July 14, 2011

jake wrote and recorded everything.

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Trench Party Atlanta

my name is jake and I play all the instruments in trench party. I record in my room and independently distribute all my albums for free.

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Track Name: We Call Them God
i had a talk with a man in a diner last night. he talked in hushed tones about the depths of his personal plight. they grabbed him by the wrist at a young age and forced down his throat their tools of subjugation. he went psychotic enduring their abuse and now they pay him penance to keep him from revealing the truth. he told me they carry banners for deception. we think they’re god or maybe government but they’re greater than what is valuable to us. they’re everywhere and there’s no one in this life that we can trust. no one but us.
Track Name: Eat Breakfast
in the land of plenty, we’ve never enough and to live a full life is to be completely stuffed. eat breakfast, eat lunch and negate the implications for anyone. a survivalist mentality encompasses your entire psyche. you take pride in your ability to ignore the shame and justify the abuse. after all, when society breaks down, either us or another species will reign. to slit a throat is to assert dominance but of your own species you must do the same and I don’t think you’ve attained the guts to inflict that pain so stop using that excuse.
Track Name: Team Conan
I try to cause the least suffering but my psyche suffers more than it needs because I refuse to consider myself as anything more than a social canvass. my value is equated directly with what the common person thinks of me so I reflect a highly refined image which I feel is “best reflective of myself” but any misunderstanding of who I am based on my appearance I take as offense. I am bound to my looks and awareness of the present and it takes my joy away. all my energy is spent constructing for myself a personality and it’s not okay. I’ve completely lost my way. somewhere under these layers of poise there was once a zealous boy amazed by the comfort of individuality and unconcerned with glory. somewhere along the line I lost touch with that person I respected so much and now the acquisition of acceptance from my associates is my only regard and I cannot respect myself because I don’t know who I am anymore.
Track Name: I Feel Like A Walking Corpse
all your attention to me is now paid in full; you’re no longer in debt. now where your adoration once did nest there is a vacuous pit of regrets. flashes of cameras I used to detest are absent, and I could not be more upset. there was a time when I took for granted the novelty of constant recognition. communal awareness by everyone, whether they endorsed me or I was shunned. their endless chatter soon made me their son. now my professional life is done and I cannot hope to reclaim that peace of ego or soundness of self respect. I feel like a walking corpse.
Track Name: We Are Not The Same, I Am A Martian
I stood upon a parapet, database engaged. for months I watched them twist and sweat and make themselves enraged. their emotions are too contrived; it makes them murder. their small brains ensheepen them; they require herders. they mourn their dead and yet declare war all the time. they desecrate the land and love only themselves. they dance a mating dance but play it like a game. they are the strangest creatures I have ever seen.
Track Name: Dullonega Blues
desolation and absence of stimulation, I’m coming home. excavation of ancient pits for want of wealth has shaped the land and I’m supposed to give a shit. this city rapes her children. the tourists flock to watch. they’re battened down with ignorance to heart and never taught. there isn’t any interest in the fruit of artisans. the corporate crawl has claimed us. the corporate crawl has shamed us all again.
Track Name: Investment Opportunities
this scene is implosive due to our refusal to walk the line. embracing enterprise is seen as counterproductive or antithetic. let’s use societal standards for once, or at least extrapolate the agreeable qualities of the system we’re rising against, because it works and we still can’t feed our own. envision, if you will, a structure in which we don’t starve for art where enforcement that we’re doing the right thing is bountiful. we could proclaim our success and be taken seriously if we could grow up. and if you believe what I am telling you, I’ve got some lovely oceanside property to be selling you.
Track Name: The Cheese
I’m telling you once for the rest of your life: be in that delivery room with the wife and soak in her agonized screams, reflecting on her strength. it’s crucial you see how she is in this light and witness the sheer awesomeness of her might so that you may finally respect her more than you respect yourself. it is imperative you feel for her the deepest love you’ve ever felt. you must revere and fear her power; know the scope of her intelligence so you can learn to work together to try to raise a human being.