15 Minute Crib

by mr sterile Assembly

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04:34
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about

Recorded and released 2006, in preparation of Malaysian, South east Asian tour. Never officially released in New Zealand.

Track 5 'Mazen Kerbaj' has not been included in this download version as it contained a section from a recording the artist M Kerbaj made called 'Starry Night'. Consent was originally obtained for the release, this was during the time of the Israel/Lebanon conflict. Kerbaj had recorded a piece with trumpet and Israeli Defense Force fighter planes dropping bombs on the city of Beirut.
Our piece is dedicated to his commitment to staying, documenting, and bearing witness.
He later requested we no longer use this piece as he had not had the opportunity to release himself after the war. We respect his wish, and thank him greatly for the time we had the sound bite available.

credits

released January 6, 2006

Chrissie Butler [bass, vocals]
Jeff Henderson [Saxophone, Vocals]
Dave Mike [Guitar, vocals]
mr sterile [drums, vocals]

Recorded Blair Wotton d.i.y! in our bedroom in Berhampore.

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skirted Records Akaroa

Home of skirted Records, stable of DSLB, mr sterile Assembly and assorted side projects

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Track Name: Colonial Rubber Rule - Buru
Buru

The future looms under the gaze of
shadow men.
Who lock away, and hold invisible,
without trial.
The self-serving holds close its motivation,
a silent collaborate eye.
Into a house of glass, and severed from the past,
the select exiled.

What time it takes to turn this fertile earth into
modern mud.
What the crops grow for each, it's bitter/sweet,
such clear division lines.
Trading lives to stock the northern lands,
this is an echoed past.
In a loaded arsenal, a colonial rubber rule,
to be entwined.

It's a crime when the face of opposition states you
can't protect your love.
And when your progress goes against ruling thought,
it's there to take apart.
Sympathy becomes an academic exercise,
to appease oneself.
You can see the length of string, from the puppets to the king,
there lie the cords to cut.

Reclaiming gaze, look to symbolic North,
see it holds no spell.
As learning spread infectious flames jump,
from house to house
And swelling words, in 'flood tides' as intent
sets to organise.
With nothing many stand, to fight with whats at hand,
even if only just our mouths.
Track Name: Static
Static

Turn the TV on,
change the channel to static.
It’s the only noise that stops your mind
from the every day panic.
From the people in authority,
to the banks taking their fees.
To the rigid restrictions
Of your everyday needs.

There’s a mark on your face,
It’s only you who cannot see it.
There’s all these other people
saying “go ahead and believe it”.
It doesn’t matter where you are,
it’s the scene of the crime.
We’ve bought all the witness’s,
and your running out of time.

Take some peace, find some hope,
in other situations.
But denial is the smile,
of all administrations.
It’s a game of cat and mouse,
but it’s a secret about the dog.
That lurks in the shadow,
and guards our ground like a god.

Tactics proven over time,
compliance equals silence.
And it’s also a potent poem,
that silence rhymes with violence.
What is rigid, must always be,
with slightest variation.
Bound with-in its confine,
of staunch continuation.

What bends is harder to break,
and what doesn’t snaps
and you’ve got to keep on dancing,
to avoid the traps.
Track Name: Agents of the Sun
The eunuch agenderless, Ha?,
Agents of the sun.
Claim their brilliance, benefits everyone.
Walking without shadows,
But shadows where deeds are done.
Gives granite haemophilia,
Saying “ think of your son”.

Offer things full,
but deliver on empty.
Chanting many have much,
In the land of the plenty.
Eager competition,
to be the top twenty.
Say it’s sour grapes when they say,
“You resent me”.

Permissions never granted,
we say “take what you can get”.
Have we asked the sun,
Well it hasn’t said no to us yet.
Fury and frustrated, you say
“who do you represent?”
Well we’ve loved all the dictators,
that we’ve ever meet.

It’s all flexible when we say,
“We say it’s the truth”.
The subject sidestepped,
When asked to offer proof.
You beg a question,
So we bend the truth.
Bail out the basement,
cos there’s holes in the roof.
Track Name: The Fate of Mr P.
The fate of Mr P.

He is less now,
than what he was,
his shape a shrinking shadow
on the day that we met.
This here adopted life,
you brought with you your past.
Its a myth your safe with distance
when to share is not a choice.
Share the same cloud
share the same wind
share the same water
share the same end

He worked at the factory
with scientific tool.
In a skin thin safety suit,
hunt invisible variation.
Now the nurse in the ward,
to cancers consequence,
fed a hose to your gut
to drain out the contents.
Out of sight
out of mind
out of breath
out of time

He was born onto this Earth
this tragic land gave birth
into him.
The end.

There were weddings on the Sunday,
two days after disaster.
And the knotting fear of rumor
came with evacuees.
Now it's off limits in the Redwood,
cant feel the danger at your fingertips.
Nearbys a giant coffin,
to stand all human years.
All the human error
we're all bound all in all
all in the same boat
all mouth the name Chernobyl.
Track Name: Mazen Kerbaj
Poem by Mazen Kerbaj

Every region
is cut
from
the others

the south villages
are cut
from
bread.
Track Name: Spare Parts
Spare Parts

Cash crop,
harvest,
medical,
tourist,
same same old
victim,
defenseless,
poorest.
Whole whole globe
supply,
demand
currency.
Cornea,
kidney,
kidnap nap nap nap,
surgery.

Your worth more in parts than in person.
Track Name: 15 Minute Crib
15 Minute crib: Epilogue
Tucked into the West Coast,
next door to the river Grey.
There's hard work and dangerous
working down the hole digging coal.

What want is half an hour
fifteen minute crib is not enough.
Had to strike for ten weeks
for this time just to sit and eat rest our feet

The case became the nations news,
management settled out of sight.
The judge imposed a hefty fine,
for this cheek an example made. We will not pay

Power hates embarrassment,
employed by courts are repo-men
Taking stuff from strikers homes,
to auction of at any price, cops supervised.

Who will who who will bid bid now
there's bicycles, sewing machines, furniture, and precious things.
Come on round
Who will who who will bid bid now
there's cutlery, porcelain, picture frames, and fine hat tins.
Come on round
Who will who who will bid bid now

All right now gather round, were gonna start here and now
first this bike on open bid, who will start at 12 quid
All a gaze but none are willing C'mon C'mon Sir1 Shilling

Make a plan then into Grey',
make sure no-one else got in.
Seven-five was the going goal,
But 13 quid is what we paid. With smallest change.

Tucked into the West Coast,
below ground savor victory,
above ground it is hard but 'HOME'
Three cheers comes the miners call.In Blackball hall.