The Volume Wars

by Construction & Destruction

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released August 1, 2008

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Construction & Destruction Port Greville, Nova Scotia

Spook rock book roll, emanating from the Atlantic littoral..

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Track Name: What the Non-Human Taught Us
Now to know what the Non-Human taught us,
is to know of the depleted and the charged-up.
And to amplify a signal from a
deepened, darkened woods.

We didn’t think to kill the darlings or the dogged.
We thought only of the culture of robotics,
and with alarm watched cheats and martyrs
lurching from the woods.
And astounded witnessed cheats and martyrs
lurching from the woods!

We’ve birthed noises that we
cannot keep from broadcast.
Sonic warnings of our forages and bombast.
We’ve originated colonies of
altruists and despots.
You can blame us for the colonies of
altruists and despots!

All that we thought they’d do
would be co-operative-
--plunder and forage;
plunder and forage;
plunder and forage;

All that we thought they’d do
would be co-operative-
--plunder and forage;
plunder and forage;
plunder and forage;

Our morphologies will overwhelm abeyance;
we will show that you
can’t restrain the lizard brain!
Our poison will thicken to a
deepened, darkened woods.
Track Name: Ring Around the Moon
I saw the ring around the moon.
I wanted to show you
but you already saw it.
I had nothing to do,
so I made you this ring:
‘ took some,
but I make time.

It only gets destroyed;
it only wanders away.
There’s a suction;
destruction;
simmer and reduction!

I tied a string around it too.
Often we think alike,
and often we don’t.
No surprises in the news.
Just paper,
and no one’s going to the moon,
and the weather’s coming soon.

It only gets destroyed;
it only blows away.
There’s a suction;
reduction;
construction and destruction!

You’ve got your finger on the moon.
We’ll only get to see
what you want us too.
I’m only plagiarising you;
I’m the mechanic, but the ideas are born to you.
That’s what you do!
Ah!
Track Name: Pool in the Snow
You say, “Watch me do that!”
You say: “Watch me!”
A simple situation gets completely
fucked up.

And so we fumble along;
lose count, and start counting again.
Something’s wrong,
something’s wrong!

Always waiting for me.
Something always coming.
I’m always losing count and then
counting again.

I’m on fire, baby!
I’m a pool in the snow!
My eyes are red in my head
and I’m hurt.

Let’s get on with it!
Let’s get it on!

I can hear you barking at me.
Take the bark off of the tree.
And I’m barking at you still and
my will is not there anymore.

Anymore, anymore…
Track Name: Redundant
Come around again, I’ll fit
the planks into the open floor and
plane it all down flat.

Once the marks are made and observed;
when the wear patterns have emerged,
I’ll know the mapping that has occurred
doesn’t make me redundant,
doesn’t make me redundant,
doesn’t make me redundant,
doesn’t make me redundant.

The more ordered state precipitates
the breakdown.
The less ordered state is to be
avoided.

But once the hallmarks are observed;
when the wear patterns have emerged,
I’ll know the mapping that has occurred
doesn’t make me redundant,
doesn’t make me redundant,
doesn’t make me redundant,
doesn’t make me redundant.
Track Name: Piltdown Lament
Piltdown!
Throw your guilt down!
You’re mistaking a finger for the moon;
you’re mistaking this evening for last noon.

Man down!
It was a sure thing.
Pointing at everything;
nodding at everyone.
Authenticating this,
authenticating that.

No sound!
Shelving books off a cart.
Mixing stains that make it dark.
Naming things that really aren’t.
Fitting jaw to cranium;
fitting cranium to jaw.

Piltdown!
Throw your guilt down!
Rumble in your sleepy town.
Argue in the streets.
You’re mistaking a finger for the moon;
you’re mistaking a pittance for a boon!

Ah!
Track Name: The Volume Wars
The boot is on the other foot,
guiding us up the garden path,
compressing volume and mass,
leading us further on from the past.

Spectres of transient peaks abound,
laying structures into air and ground.

The boot is on the other foot,
guiding us up the garden path.
A crude gain hovers on top,
leading us up with hisses and pops.

Remnants of phantom powers abound,
arcing current into air and ground.

I rode the fader because you were getting lost.
I pulled back kick and snare and bass ‘til I heard you.
I’m spending seasons searching, trying to locate you!
And now you’re backing off and you aren’t coming through!

I showed you how it’s really got to come from here,
and hit the diaphragm plosive and sincere.
You keep retreating and I’m trying to locate you!
I’ve hit the ceiling seeking, trying to locate you!

I’ve hit the ceiling and I’m trying to locate you!
I’ve hit the ceiling searching, trying to locate you!
[The boot is on the other foot!]
I’ve hit the ceiling seeking, trying to locate you!
I’ve hit the ceiling and I’m trying to locate you!
[The boot is on the other foot!]

The boot is on the other foot…
Track Name: Thresheld
We could fall behind;
we could stand here thresheld.
Put horns to our mouths
and accept into the fold
whosoever answers,
and whatever comes.

Ici parmi ces quelques arpens de neiges,
we don’t privilege logic here,
we dream the cryosphere;
a reverie of melt, and stealth,
and conditions,
and conditions…
We could fall behind;
we could stand here thresheld.
Plant flags at our feet
and steady-up for the groundswell,
the ebbing of the tide,
and what takes us under.

Ici parmi ces quelques arpens de neiges,
we don’t privilege logic here,
we dream the cryosphere;
a reverie of melt, and stealth,
and conditions,
and conditions…

An armada of beasts in the night;
a death on the shoulder in light;
an arcane bereavement exposed,
for a poorly-chosen approach.
A scent on the air of a plight,
of a centered attack on a lithe,
and suddenly body acoustic,
and ripped;
and dead in the bud,
and thrown to the ground like a glove,
and plummeted down from above,
like the force meant for a man,
by a heaving and motionless land,
hoisting him up to the ridge
and over the side of a bridge,
and drilling him as he falls,
and siting him as he falls,
but not seeing nothing at all,
but not seeing nothing at all,
but not seeing nothing at all,
but not seeing nothing at all,
but not seeing nothing at all,
but not seeing nothing at all,
but not seeing nothing at all,
but not seeing nothing at all…
Track Name: Wanted to Go
How we doin’?
What ‘ you want?

How we doin’?
What ‘ you want?

And I’ll try not to cry
but I’m tired for all the work.
Undo my button
for the work;
for the work and for the words.

They took and ate me,
but I wanted to go.
They never made me,
yeah I wanted to go.
I went flat and I floated.
I was ready to go.
And I left what I know
and I wanted to go.

How we doin’?
What ‘ you want?

Is this what you thought?

I got drunk and I folded,
as if I had somewhere to go.
And I laughed as I told it:
“I’m so ready to go.”
Track Name: Pillar of Stone
I lied.
Alright, I lied.

I’ve burnt bridges;
I’m burning them still.
I’m standing on one side
(I’m standing on one side),
watching faltering
(watching faltering),
and I can’t say how I feel.

I’ve failed.
Alright, I’ve failed.

I acted all alone;
the impact was all my own.
I pulled the meat from the bone
(I pulled the meat from the bone),
I turned to a pillar of stone
(I turned to a pillar of stone),
and I can’t say how I feel.

I’m riled.
Alright, I’m riled.

I’ve been unmerciful;
I’ve lived off the fat of the land.
I target glass houses with stones
(I target glass houses with stones),
I called for blood from a stone
(I’ve called for blood from a stone),
and I can’t say how I feel.