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The 2004 Korrea had the tribal tattoos, was a tuning enthusiast, and had a Nissan 350 Z with low rider to show off with two wheels on the sidewalk, the flashing green neon underneath, the back window adorned with Alpine stickers, and other delights. Those were the golden years of racing down airport tracks and raiding Punk'o'teca—which I now discover still exists: good!—adding the NOS and hating the fascists at full speed, hating George W. Bush, hating the powerful for hiding the truth from us.
Now that I've had layers of semi-hairless white skin sewn onto my original inked epidermis, I drive a Splash 1000 cc—voted Reactionary Car of the Year 2012—and when I look up at the clear sky and see streaks, I know it's because of my misaligned lens; now, of those times, I no longer even have Raised On Whipped Cream by Killradio, lost in the hell of data lost from dead hard drives along with so many other musical atrocities born out of chance, intense P2P sessions—those rudimentary P2Ps—and stuff like Tony Hawk's Pro Skater; now, I feel relieved. The weight of the Iraq war, anti-terrorism, and no-global conspirativism was too grave for an acne-ridden teenager who ultimately—now it can be admitted—only cared about the strong bass, the screams, and wearing his cross like a Christ nailed by the thumb to an X to go faster at those games where the important thing isn't even participating, but simply having nothing better to do.
In this album, there were strong bass, there were screams, but there was also a lot of naïve hating George W. Bush and inevitably the end of the Bush era marked, punctually, also the end of Killradio ("you can't blame a black president"); play it for your kids to give them a past to dispel with an embarrassed smirk and without any nostalgia when it will be thrown away, buried in the Ingenueou Antifa toy bin.
Listen to it today, ten years later, and find yourselves aging beautifully in comparison, you adults: lose seconds of life but gain ten pimples on the chin for the beat-boxing at the start of Penis Envy, a true collection of anti-American profanities that our generation of angry young men made their own and threw around as an excuse for everything; stale armpit-hormonal for the intro of Entertained they made radio for the music, now they just make music for the radio; also up for grabs is a big backpack with graffiti and circled A's made with correction fluid if you listen to Scavenger and like the chorus, with Brandon Jordan, the singer, mimicking Jello Biafra here and there but also having a nice yell and a name every under-14 PlayStation kid would choose, if they had naming rights.
Dedicated to all the embarrassing data lost from all the world's dead hard drives, wherever they may have ended up.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
02 Scavenger (02:38)
Know you by waste and not by your face.
Not by introduction not by handshake.
Not by the things that you own, but the things you dispose
It's not a case of theft but a case of loan
Scavenger have you heard
I'm sifting through your trash,
Still I'm gonna make it last well
Scavenger survivor's find a way
Still sticky fingers find sticky situations
But in the wake of swept rugs we all need assistance.
So now I'm living off the spoils of leftover generations
Equipped with wit and long legs if I need them
To hold my ground but not be found
I'm quicker than the wind but half as loud
Scavenger have you heard, sifting through your trash
Still I'm gonna make it last well
Scavenger survivor's find a way
Scavenger have you heard
Sifting through your trash,
Still I'm gonna make it last well
Scavenger survivors find a way
They find a way, they find a way, a way
Are you done give me some, Cause I'm fucken hungry
Don't need pride with an empty belly.
Got no shame cause I know we're all whores,
Trying to pull the hustle, just trying to pull the
Scavenger. have you heard
Sifting through your trash, still
I'm gonna make it last well
Scavenger survivor's find a way
Scavenger have you heard
Sifting through your trash, still
I 'm gonna make it last well
Scavenger survivors find a way
They find a way, they find a way.
03 Do You Know (Knife in Your Back) (03:30)
Do you know what they say
Do you know what they say, what they say about you
Do you know what they do
Do you know what they do when you leave the room
(x2)
Never thought twice about holding your tongue
Once upon a time you were so young
Everywhere you carried around your soul
In the night they stole it, left you skin and bones â " knife in your back
Laughing aloud at your expense, fed themselves on innocence â " knife in your back
Their attacks inserted doubt, now you're stranded in the cold with a knife in your back
Do you know what they feel
Do you know what they feel, what they feel for you
Do you know how they play
Do you know how they play, how they play inside you
Do you know what they steal
Do you know what they steal, what they steal from you
Do you know how they prey
Do you know how they prey, how they prey upon you
Never thought twice about holding your tongue
Once upon a time you were so young
Everywhere you carried around your soul
In the night they stole it, left you skin and bones â " knife in your back
Laughing aloud at your expense, fed themselves on innocence â " knife in your back
Their attacks inserted doubt, now you're stranded in the cold with a knife in your back
Tell me did you grow after all these years?
Giving up control and buying into fear
Nights slip into mornings and days remain unchanged
but their mighty appetites will not be tamed.
Do you care, Do you care
Do you care what they say
Do you care what they say, what they say about you
Do you care how they prey
Do you care how they prey, how they prey upon you
Upon you
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