Biografia:
Speaker for the Dead is an ambient/experimental side project of dominator, belgrade based artist and musician active in kosmoplovci projects, including floating joint and corrosion netlabels.
Speaker for the Dead is also a 1-20 piece crazy brass folk punk and poetry ensemble with members ranging from all across the country but centering around Worcester, MA. We try our best to only play free or donations based, all ages shows (but fail, sometimes).
Read more on Last.fm
Quatro anos de trabalho duro!Neste mês de maio fizemos quatro anos no ar. Continuamos trabalhando na divulgação deste maravilhoso instrumento, obrigado por participar da nossa história!
*This song is dedicated to dismantling all forms of racism, sexism, transphobia, and homophobia
(both systematic and individually) in music scenes but most importantly dismantling those forms
of oppression that exist with ourselves!
(B)
So you paid 15 bucks to get
(A) (D) (B)
into the show to see
(B)
seven bands that
(A) (D) (B)
nobody knows
(B)
you ever wonder where all that
(A) (D) (B)
money goes
(B)
well Ill tell ya, ill tell ya
(D) (B)
ill tell ya
(B)
It goes to companies bureaucracies and those
(A)
bands you didn't even
(B)
come to see
(B)
they all need their guarantees
(A)
so youll pay to play to get onstage
(B)
paid your dues played your tunes
(A)
with five white bands
(B)
and their all dudes
(B)
they all need to get their say
(A) (B)
so you pay to play to get onstage
(B)
its a classist, racist
(A) (D) (B)
music scene
(B)
tells us what were
(A) (D) (B)
supposed to see
(B)
homophobic, sexist
(A) (D) (B)
misogyny
(B) (A)
reminds us who were supposed to be
(B->A)
I don't do it for the love of music
I do it for the hate of the industry
every privatized song
I do it because I am forced to walk a thin line
painted red in the middle of the road
and I can feel the walls close in on me
one wall covered with the blood of my friends
the other covered with sticky green dollar bills
to me it feels like one cannot exist without the other
and like in vintage pulp fiction movie
tan and yellow screenings tell me I
have to bleed myself dry for years
give up everything for nothing
until finally the day comes and the golden gates open for me
and then I am the warden
the others who struggled alongside now
giving up everything they own
for the nothing I have to give them
because even as I walk through those gates
I carry nothing with me, no weights, no emotional burdens gained
only paid dues, some imaginary class warfare
between those who have successfully played the game
and those who have not
well I have found my way out of the maze
filled with green sticky walls
filled with dollar signs that seem like a foreign language to me
sometimes its hard living outside
the labyrinth walls
not fearing the minotaur anymore
not having a game to play
you need your own purpose with rules to hold us up
after sitting on crutches for so long
believing your legs to be broken since birth
sometimes its hard to run at first
but we will learn, and then
they will have to catch us
Don't support a music scene that doesn't support you and me!
(both systematic and individually) in music scenes but most importantly dismantling those forms
of oppression that exist with ourselves!
(B)
So you paid 15 bucks to get
(A) (D) (B)
into the show to see
(B)
seven bands that
(A) (D) (B)
nobody knows
(B)
you ever wonder where all that
(A) (D) (B)
money goes
(B)
well Ill tell ya, ill tell ya
(D) (B)
ill tell ya
(B)
It goes to companies bureaucracies and those
(A)
bands you didn't even
(B)
come to see
(B)
they all need their guarantees
(A)
so youll pay to play to get onstage
(B)
paid your dues played your tunes
(A)
with five white bands
(B)
and their all dudes
(B)
they all need to get their say
(A) (B)
so you pay to play to get onstage
(B)
its a classist, racist
(A) (D) (B)
music scene
(B)
tells us what were
(A) (D) (B)
supposed to see
(B)
homophobic, sexist
(A) (D) (B)
misogyny
(B) (A)
reminds us who were supposed to be
(B->A)
I don't do it for the love of music
I do it for the hate of the industry
every privatized song
I do it because I am forced to walk a thin line
painted red in the middle of the road
and I can feel the walls close in on me
one wall covered with the blood of my friends
the other covered with sticky green dollar bills
to me it feels like one cannot exist without the other
and like in vintage pulp fiction movie
tan and yellow screenings tell me I
have to bleed myself dry for years
give up everything for nothing
until finally the day comes and the golden gates open for me
and then I am the warden
the others who struggled alongside now
giving up everything they own
for the nothing I have to give them
because even as I walk through those gates
I carry nothing with me, no weights, no emotional burdens gained
only paid dues, some imaginary class warfare
between those who have successfully played the game
and those who have not
well I have found my way out of the maze
filled with green sticky walls
filled with dollar signs that seem like a foreign language to me
sometimes its hard living outside
the labyrinth walls
not fearing the minotaur anymore
not having a game to play
you need your own purpose with rules to hold us up
after sitting on crutches for so long
believing your legs to be broken since birth
sometimes its hard to run at first
but we will learn, and then
they will have to catch us
Don't support a music scene that doesn't support you and me!
Special Explosio (...)
Special Patrol
Speck
Spectacular
Spectra (Claudio (...)
Spencer Kane
Spencer Lee
Spencer Radcliff (...)
Spencer Sutherla (...)
Speo