Haters, Wreckers and other Friends

by mr sterile

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Limited edition CDr of the solo mr sterile album 'Haters, Wreckers and other Friends'.

    Packaged in a hand-folded, recyclable cardboard sleeve, along with a selection of colored photos of snaps of captions from the tunes.

    Recorded between approximately 2014 to 2017.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Haters, Wreckers and other Friends via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 5 days

      $20 NZD or more 

     

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

      $10 NZD  or more

     

  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 14 skirted Records releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Twohandstwice, Haters, Wreckers and other Friends, It's All Over, skirt, BlokeBird, The General Pathetic [Remastered 2017], Setting Fire to Bob, Get Fucked Wellington!!! Love Kerry P., and 6 more. , and , .

      $73.45 NZD or more (35% OFF)

     

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05:51
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about

skirted 13

A limited edition release of 50 physical copies only will accompany this release

All things done by mr sterile except guest vocals on 7 by Chrissie Butler.
Track 10, Would We Be Alive, is an adaption of the Nomeansno Version of The Residents song.

Skillfully mastered by Warwick Donald.

credits

released April 1, 2018

For those interesting vocal sounds scattered throughout the song Hyena's Choice, I used the wonderful app called Yappo-phone [ www.avant-apps.com ]. Designed as an interactive app for the voice artist Japp Blonk and a piece of his called The Blonk Organ.

Unfortunately it would seem the app is no longer available for download

license

Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.

tags

about

skirted Records Akaroa

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

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Track Name: Riots Born
Drop defense
Await intense
The time it takes
To gather sense
A song is sung
Before the sun
Welcome home
Oldest friend
Swell immense
Quick heartening beats
Harvest ground
Gather treats
A song aloud
Without the lord
Smelling skin
Salt and sweet

Craving heat
How hot’s too hot
Balanced edge
Fatal drop
Look for a song
Fear its gone
Rest one day
Rains dirt on top
Garden hope
Between the storms
Tickled pink
Pretty form
A voice in song
A verse is sung
The lovers gasp
A riot’s born
Track Name: Hilltop like a Jawline
She spends the night in the cold
She spent the night all alone
She’s not worried about the weather
no wish of warmth or shelter
She past the coldest hour on her own

She wasn’t looking to the stars up above
no interest in that city or this mud
She wasn’t anxious for the light
or quick passing of the night
She’s beyond the saddest laughter of brittle love

She had left the context to contend
She’d no care for trust of for friend
It’s not like she never cared
but the others barely saw her there
She left herself in the cold at the end

She was quiet, she was fine
she could maintain under strain
she was invisible and common placed
and no blow would raise complaint

Her jaw was pretty
like dawn’s hilltop silhouette
sharp, black and blue
by weather and by force
Her eyes like the moon
in a heavy rolling storm
bright through black swollen
clouds of rain

There is no beauty here
We’re shy to our disgust
and normalise our fear
There is no beauty here
We are blind while in full sight
and ration out our care
there is no beauty here
Track Name: Hyena's Choice
A crowd gathers distance
Beyond the sense of escalating threat
The volume ramps the tension
You spit 'you fucking faggot’,
& 'you fucking fucking queer cunt'
Now here every body knows
Who is hard and who is soft
And what justifies the blows.

The echo rings of loud abuse
The space clears for 'now what next? '
Spectator, bite your tongue and wait
With anticipated breath
Over there, where it's 'safer'
Roll your eyes, don’t raise your voice
It’s bad luck to be the brunt of hate
And today I am hyenas choice

Brave, one enters quite
To distract not intervene
For her it might be deja vu
She would wish for someone in between
To deflect the raining falling pain
It is the way that these things roll
The past is bruised and still she can read
The signs of brutes control.

And then so quick it’s over
Commonsense, you left in haste
The only signs of battle lines
This adrenaline leaves a bitter taste
Sympathy stalks like scabie dogs
There you skulk out on your own
To return and boast thugs bravery
This is the way in Brutal’s home
Track Name: Hurring
Seems like every talking head, spinning clever, sing aloud
Seems like every claims to speak, tongue in check, for the ‘silent crowd’
Seems like every point explored, cue applause, here's the parts
Seems like every maxim, sanction caption, honest take to heart

Seems like everything important, gains Importance talking down
Seems like every idea matters, in spite the fact that facts are known
Seems like everything in balance, depends in fact on who decides
Seems like every message is in code, to paint the chosen sides

Seems like every informed mouthpiece, filled your ears up with their junk
Seems like every trusted mug, comforts drug, your brains drunk
Seems like talk repeat till puke, adds authority, gospel proof
Seems the words play no favour, spectrum behaviour, with the truth

Seems like every expert here, with a loud idea’s got it wrong
Seems like every smarter brain, wisdom displayed, now it’s gone
Seems that every balanced point, missed the point, and missed the mark
Seems like every scrap of wise advice is there to please the age-old oligarch

It’s that thing your breath does when it's cold
Born from your inner warmth when the Mercury’s low
Coming from your mouth honest without sound
Here’s something I can trust, your tiny rising cloud

You’ve got a lot to say
For someone with not a lot to say
But never let the facts
Get in the way.
You say that you know
We doubt what’s below
Your hollow show
Track Name: New Pants and Arthritic Hips
Long before the gas
I rode smoky, road trouble
Luck found a fit
Like arthritic hips
Wake with a start
Concussed by importance
Christened with guilt
This deblessive kid

Smoke plume in the back seat
The red vinyl of the Peugeot
Lunch takes a lurch
rattle round Devil’s bend
Competition of the carsick
The empty bag wins
The victor younger sister
son, wipe your chin

Miss mass for a fag
More drama than real life
Act tough and call bluff
Shy weedy pretense
Go home on a cold night
Cops left the door wide
They came for a squizz
Now summon and attend

Home’s of broke windows
breath ice smoke, eat ‘shrooms
freak out in a weird way
break out through through locked door
The shape of things shocked me
Some hole’s in my knowing
With my hand down your panties
I’m unsure of the score


Inconsequential Cataclysm
Track Name: Talking to You
It’s an interesting story that he tells
Parallel, so close to the here and now
‘HELLo Circumstance’ with Capital HELL
Scant facts, rabid pack, bigots kiss and tell
It’s enticing in the message that he spins
Big grin, think you party to his win?
Making a killing, the killing makes the king
Hands up? Bad luck! Under foot the ice is thin

I am talking to you
I am talking to you
I am talking to you
I am talking to you

Feel attractive on the way up on the make
Heart of slate, dirty hides behind a gilded gate
Devoted profit, denote the road of endless take
Claim more. Fuck poor. Cashing in on righteous hate.

I am talking to you
But that does not mean
That we are talking

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