deadverse recordings

Discography

From Filthy Tongue…

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  • Label: Ipecac Recordings
  • Release: 05 Aug, 2002
  • Catalog No: IPC-30
  • Spiritual Healing

    • Lyrics

      Who you pray to, my God the black God?
      Who you pray to, my God the brown God?
      Who you pray to, my God the white God?
      Your reaction's kind of odd for a kid who loves to nod.

      I wear skin like Jesus
      Sick of bullshit preachers
      Concerned with aborted fetus
      But don't give a fuck who feeds us.
      Speech so tedious,
      If Abraham freed us,
      Why there still Abner Louima's?
      Been slaves since days of Julius Caesar
      Man's need to dominate overshadows need to breath
      Pray to your pagan gods while your twisting all those trees
      Scraped knees don't prove what you believe
      Your blind faith passed to your seeds,
      Killed our garden type weeds,
      Turn around and blame it on Eve.
      While you blame me for blemishing our family tree
      I'll uproot all of humanity.

      Who you pray to, my God the black God?
      Who you pray to, my God the brown God?
      Who you pray to, my God the white God?
      Your reaction's kind of odd for a kid who loves to nod.

      Sick of true blasphemy,
      Religion pure alchemy
      And gold lines no lead streets
      Blessed are the meek who reek in honesty
      True green lie in botany,
      They're hawking me from high atop the food chain
      Deciding who to blame for each and every heartless act
      Weight of elements exact
      I retain no tact and spit the pure fact
      Mixed with blood from split tongue
      Collapsed lung only help to breath diseased atmosphere
      Expect me to adhere to your bullshit code of silence
      Speak till dawn of violence
      They say no man's an island...
      I?ve watched the youth,
      These kids is wildin'

      Who you pray to, my God the black God?
      Who you pray to, my God the brown God?
      Who you pray to, my God the white God?
      Your reaction's kind of odd for a kid who loves to nod.

  • Speak Volumes

    • Lyrics

      Basic blocks to breath topple under bare bleeding feet
      Wince at stabbing pain in left lobe as mighty sword's unsheathed
      Source of all life lies in East, the source of all life lies in East.
      Feel the rumble of them bombed trains, third railed from beneath
      I walk with tattered scrolls on these ill lonely streets
      Babble last true tongue, could give a fuck where you from
      Travel torn path, swung as pendulum
      Now my thread of life's come undone
      Remember back when Uzi's weighed a ton?
      Now ever kid's got one.
      Dipped in platinum bathed in aggression
      Succumb to last temptation
      Lost all my patience
      Peace to last bastion:
      Afrika... Zulu nation.
      Lyrics laced with oils from inner works of mental reservoir
      The world in ill discord
      Pray to ancient ancestors
      Pray to ancient ancestors.

      Remember days of cardboard, fat lace, and krylon?
      Microphones and twelves, tools we all relied on
      Niggas dropped a verse, the thought was one to die on
      I remember hip hop, that's my Mt. Zion.

      Bygones be bygones so many souls wore thin
      My world lies in famine, I wander with kinsmen
      Through dismal slums of ignorance
      Wash my hands in pool of absolution
      Keep warm with torn blanket of revolution
      Quite useless shut one's eyes once realized
      You glide through this darkness
      Embark upon this, solomn crusade to save the only gift our God gave
      The curse is manmade, designed to turn blessed to slaves
      Forgave the weak minded two weeks into journey
      Again travel untraveled road on scrapped knee
      Broke bread with those bums who taught speech
      In attempt to reach nirvana
      Ye of poor karma,
      None calmer in old age, young sage turn page on brittle text
      There's no time left
      What must I stress?
      Demons colorless, infest our own earth
      Immersed in tainted dirt
      Could never quite quench my own thirst for ancient drums
      There lies a language in the noise and the hum
      Prepare for martyrdom, prepare for martyrdom
      I speak that ancient tongue
      There lies a language in (the noise and the hum)

      Remember days of cardboard, fat lace, and krylon?
      Microphones and twelves, tools we all relied on
      Niggas dropped a verse, the thought was one to die on
      I remember hip hop, that's my Mt. Zion.

      Lost equilibrium, wish I fell to '85
      Verbal vagabond blessed for being blind
      Etched my paradigm in Sanskrit at age nine
      So why these kids swear to God I'm unrefined?
      Still swig from sacred liquid language
      Poor as fuck but seem to manage
      Non average urban savage
      You living lavish when this world is pure survival
      Best you hide in the corners of your mind for sitting idle
      Breathing air is vital,
      You pray to false idols
      No feelings in recitals when you only search for titles
      Feel so suicidal, but couldn't give you joy.
      Four elements of this only for the B-boys (B-girls)

  • ...From Mole Hills

    • Lyrics

      Basic blocks to breath topple under bare bleeding feet
      Wince at stabbing pain in left lobe as mighty sword's unsheathed
      Source of all life lies in East, the source of all life lies in East.
      Feel the rumble of them bombed trains, third railed from beneath
      I walk with tattered scrolls on these ill lonely streets
      Babble last true tongue, could give a fuck where you from
      Travel torn path, swung as pendulum
      Now my thread of life's come undone
      Remember back when Uzi's weighed a ton?
      Now ever kid's got one.
      Dipped in platinum bathed in aggression
      Succumb to last temptation
      Lost all my patience
      Peace to last bastion:
      Afrika... Zulu nation.
      Lyrics laced with oils from inner works of mental reservoir
      The world in ill discord
      Pray to ancient ancestors
      Pray to ancient ancestors.

      Remember days of cardboard, fat lace, and krylon?
      Microphones and twelves, tools we all relied on
      Niggas dropped a verse, the thought was one to die on
      I remember hip hop, that's my Mt. Zion.

      Bygones be bygones so many souls wore thin
      My world lies in famine, I wander with kinsmen
      Through dismal slums of ignorance
      Wash my hands in pool of absolution
      Keep warm with torn blanket of revolution
      Quite useless shut one's eyes once realized
      You glide through this darkness
      Embark upon this, solomn crusade to save the only gift our God gave
      The curse is manmade, designed to turn blessed to slaves
      Forgave the weak minded two weeks into journey
      Again travel untraveled road on scrapped knee
      Broke bread with those bums who taught speech
      In attempt to reach nirvana
      Ye of poor karma,
      None calmer in old age, young sage turn page on brittle text
      There's no time left
      What must I stress?
      Demons colorless, infest our own earth
      Immersed in tainted dirt
      Could never quite quench my own thirst for ancient drums
      There lies a language in the noise and the hum
      Prepare for martyrdom, prepare for martyrdom
      I speak that ancient tongue
      There lies a language in (the noise and the hum)

      Remember days of cardboard, fat lace, and krylon?
      Microphones and twelves, tools we all relied on
      Niggas dropped a verse, the thought was one to die on
      I remember hip hop, that's my Mt. Zion.

      Lost equilibrium, wish I fell to '85
      Verbal vagabond blessed for being blind
      Etched my paradigm in Sanskrit at age nine
      So why these kids swear to God I'm unrefined?
      Still swig from sacred liquid language
      Poor as fuck but seem to manage
      Non average urban savage
      You living lavish when this world is pure survival
      Best you hide in the corners of your mind for sitting idle
      Breathing air is vital,
      You pray to false idols
      No feelings in recitals when you only search for titles
      Feel so suicidal, but couldn't give you joy.
      Four elements of this only for the B-boys (B-girls)

  • Artichristo

  • Hold Tight

    • Lyrics

      Misunderstood, misguided maniac,
      Lacking social skills and will to fit your mold.
      I told your kind before not to expect the world
      From I who hates the world,
      I'll burn your flag unfurled.
      Propel my anger past rage,
      What you thought was phase is the air to my everyday
      I raise a fist against your rusty cannons
      Abandon my every shred of decency
      Devise plan to topple politician in vicinity
      Your ideas of liberty, archaic
      You took freedom and enslaved it.
      I don't portray the role of revolutionary,
      Just slice the jugular of society on a Tuesday
      While crews play cypher-cypher-freestyle
      I listen to Miles with inverted smile inking scrolls in exile.

      Infantile attempts by heads at bending necks
      You pose no threat
      Behind the ears you still wet
      Hold tight to stereotypes like Newport cigarettes,
      Pit bulls as pets, and bootleg mix cassettes.
      Infantile attempts by heads at bending necks
      As my mind grew you slept.

      Expect no friend from this form I took
      You mistook me as one of your own
      I bleed words of the griot onto poems
      Lonely wanderer,
      There's no honor amongst thieves,
      There's more than amongst Mc's
      Who needs enemies with friends like these
      Quick to deaden pulse for that Maltese mic
      Beware the Cannanites performing pagan rites
      At twilight as last of the embers glow bright
      One can see the looseness where things were once tight.
      I prefer reciting prose over compositions by Riech.

      Recite....
      They impolite.....
      Neophytes.....
      So trite.

      Infantile attempts by heads at bending necks
      You pose no threat
      Behind the ears you still wet
      Hold tight to stereotypes like Newport cigarettes,
      Pit bulls as pets, and bootleg mix cassettes.

      Infantile attempts by heads at bending necks
      You pose no threat
      Behind the ears you still wet
      Hold tight to stereotypes like Newport cigarettes,
      Pitbulls as pets, and bootleg mix cassettes.

      Infantile attempts by heads at bending necks
      You pose no threat
      Behind the ears you still wet
      Hold tight to stereotypes like Newport cigarettes,
      Pit bulls as pets, and bootleg mix cassettes

      I vent my anger on all angles
      Would strangle angels if they'd let me.
      Suspect entire populous in attempts to suppress me
      Left empty when all I trusted rusted thin...
      Able to see true layers,
      Undefined tongue I spoke to familiar strangers, now seems even stranger
      Cradled that blue baby in his manger until I grew too weak to utter lies
      Stomach filled with roaches not butterflies
      I sever ties with all of you who despise me.
      Welcome to the truth, undefined reality.

  • Heads

  • Black Smoke Rises

    • Lyrics

      I miss the burning of my flesh.
      Content in simple earthly pleasures
      Meaning only in breath you censor.
      Walk amongst the blessed,
      Digress into false posture to assume role of coal-walker.
      I seek my lost muse...
      What must she feel right this instant?
      Does my name even bring about vague distant memories?
      Blurry bloodshot eyes scan a familiar candle lit room
      I am consumed by these questions all too often upon my sad weary tongue.
      Perhaps she will visit me
      Here again someday
      Only to find I am not the one she remembers
      If she even remembers.

      Black smoke rises to a heaven i do not know.
      Slowly gaze to take in our sorrow.
      Why question a life only borrowed?

      I am surprised by my lack of resolve.
      I thought I could be pure.
      I thought I could endure winding lonesome road which still lies ahead.
      I sit with hands upon chin in disbelief
      Grieve the passing of my content.
      I breath contempt for my surroundings.
      Without consent grasp the hand of what man might be passing.
      Do you hold the book housing answers?
      Straight faced with laughter
      Only comprehends my plight after.
      Son I must have burnt that chapter.
      I only want to recapture what was once mine.
      Nothing is yours.
      Shall I be lured upon same crossroads as Robert Johnson?
      Only if you believe in myth.

      Black smoke rises to a heaven i do not know.
      Slowly gaze to take in our sorrow.
      Why question a life only borrowed?

      I miss that burning of your flesh.
      I thought you once to be pure
      How could we endure simple earthly pleasures when your own soul you censor?
      I lost all truth as I tread that winding road
      What I feel eternal is the bliss of my quiet grief.
      I am but a distant memory.
      The candle of thought long has been extinguished.
      No man has no answer.
      Let me rest this sad weary tongue.
      My only true possession.

      Black smoke rises to a heaven i do not know.
      Slowly gaze to take in our sorrow.
      Why question a life only borrowed?

  • Trampled Brethren

    • Lyrics

      With uncertainty i ink my final thoughts on unlit blocks
      Niggas caught on heron nods
      Still at odds with false gods of archaic age.
      Angelic face wretched with pain ignites my flame.
      Your mundane daily life amazes me
      Such complacency.
      Tattered city once brimming with life now sits abandoned
      Some feel these thoughts to random
      I hand them their empty heads as main coarse to Da Vinci's Last Supper
      As they sit in wonder.
      Abundant sun pours over old steel and bricks
      Filling my aching eyes till they split.
      I felt my earth shift, contort, and twist.
      Lift heavy brow to view what happened to my tiny corner of dirt.
      Worthless soul too old to care
      As despair builds thick amongst my people.
      From burnt steeples hear distant toll of bells
      Ancient tongue swells as one lumbers with prenatal language.
      Manage a coarse throaty mumble to convey how this earth crumbles.
      I tumble, close to where I've been a million times before
      Free to ignore pain which pounds at human temples.
      I resemble less of a man and more the dirt I tread on.

      To my trampled brethren,
      Heaven won't accept you!
      Either you or it don't exist.
      Consider that a gift
      As we walk through that mist filled valley
      Vulnerable souls tell tales of ill proportions
      Scorching RA soothing moon, soon to dim
      My travels at an end, light bends to dark
      Jagged crossed sticks manhandled as scripture and art
      Picture your Christ as blond and blue eyed,
      As mine resides within confines of empty glass bottle.
      Robbed of youth i wobble past society and rest my head on curb of reality,
      If only for a nap,
      To grasp for that which we lack.
      Remain trapped in these three dimensions
      Mention I once stepped past, now viewed as insane.
      Trained human pets scurry to cubical for food pellets.
      Next funeral for those who think, cause thoughts are relics.
      I smell this viscous odor on each face I meet,
      Seems humanity reached peak in 20th century.
      My jaded eye strains to see through a smoke-filled room.
      Consumed by books which speak of our past
      At last begin to piece together our beginnings
      With few fleeting seconds till our end,
      Quickly cross that bridge you bum,
      See what's on the other shore.
      It's lure magnetic
      In our drunken minds
      Poor feeble shell hoping for so much more
      Left entranced by ancient dance of emptiness.
      Few are the blessed who feed on truth's breast.

  • Voices of the Ether

    • Lyrics

      You miss the entity of all I perform.
      My soul so worn.
      You miss the entity of all I perform.
      My mind so torn.
      You miss the entity of all I perform.
      My skin so scorned.
      You miss the entity of all I perform.
      Soul worn.
      You miss the entity of all I perform.
      Mind torn.
      You miss the entity of all I perform.
      Skin scorned.

      1. You miss the entity of all I perform, Fuck that norm, i spit on that behavior.
      Savor you savior in suits made by tailors.
      Folklore of unwound road
      Where lies your rose?
      Dead long side muse.
      Face painted hues
      Brushwork tickled my eyes...
      I laugh as you lie as do I under sky.
      Assume role of the unassuming
      His walk so amusing
      The stagger is looming.
      My truth gets jangled in 'd' minor tuning.

  • Forever Close My Eyes

    • Lyrics

      In midst of such madness I grasped that elusive real.
      You believe to know those surrounding your visual.
      So typical of life to slap me to humiliate.
      Left irate I rely only on my hidden traits to stay the tide.
      All is mine to lose in my mind although I have already lost all.
      I am appalled by these very friendly sights.
      I remain polite in proper society.
      They view me as the sewer.

      My yesterdays don't matter now, they're gone.
      Your careless expression left my wrists torn.
      Yesterdays don't matter now, you're gone
      Shattered glass of empty bottles cut my palms.

      Saturated thoughts of you weigh so heavy
      On a mind so weary.
      Always thought we'd have plenty.
      Never thought I'd be here now,
      Without she who breaths for me.
      I gasp for that life.
      Oh, to lay my head mongst your curves!
      Oh, to speak those words.

      I stare from broken window
      Eye's fixed upon your symbol.
      I suppose all things do pass
      Wrist grazing glass,
      White light at last gathers at feet caked in earth.
      My movements submerged by thickness in words.
      Laid my head mongst your curves
      Grown too old for your tones of voice to scold
      Attempt evils untold
      I'll fold when you laugh again.
      I'll smile when I'm dead.

      My yesterdays don't matter now, they're gone.
      Your careless expression left my wrists torn.
      Yesterdays don't matter now, you're gone
      Shattered glass of empty bottles cut my palms.

      Does that keep you content?
      My blood flows a velvet red
      Into that familiar stream of tears
      With passion I spit upon that empty face.
      Were you disgraced when I broke your sacred circle?
      I must admit I was afraid this ugly world would hurt you
      As you hurt me.

      Crossed paths to speak but for an instant.
      Now gone without one single trace.
      What is it about my vocal pattern which leaves me speaking to self?
      Ugly blood pours from warm heartfelt vase...
      Flowers scattered on a cold stone floor...
      Connect nevermore.
      I am torn by my lack of emotions and plentitude of tears.
      Catalyst heart hurts none, yet weeps
      Am I dead lord?
      Am I truly dead?

      My yesterdays don't matter now, they're gone.
      Your careless expression left my wrists torn.
      Yesterdays don't matter now, you're gone
      Shattered glass of empty bottles cut my palms.

      What happened to the times we spent dreaming of days to come?
      So invincible then,
      Before these days i learned to bleed
      On my knees i prayed for us.
      As what we were slipped between my fingers.
      Those memories still linger.

      Anger permeates....
      Its not our idiosyncrasies that leave us ill.
      I wish to build yet it seems all i touch dies.
      Endless drone of sighs to convince this world we exist.
      Loveless bliss.
      Content just to be spent at nights end.
      Fish for your reasons in the sea of ignorance.
      As if in trance, succumb to an ageless waltz of thought.
      Why were we brought together only to fall apart?

      My yesterdays don't matter now, they're gone.
      Your careless expression left my wrists torn.
      Yesterdays don't matter now, you're gone
      Shattered glass of empty bottles cut my palms.

      I gaze upon you one final time.
      I only gaze to truly know what was once mine.
      I toast with final swig of liquid life.
      Lay my head mongst familiar curves
      And forever close my eyes.

  • Classical Homicide

    • Lyrics

      Subterranean maintain own tongue mongst ruins
      In subdued tones I speak of the flesh which entombs our inner core
      Who the blessed? Invade airwaves type Moors (wars)
      Sore from travels to unmarked thresholds, grapple truths untold lying in whispers it figures.
      He who snickers doesn't see final melody
      Shattered splinters, melodic in their own unrest
      Remind me of Osiris, made liars of us all
      For 364 days I learned to crawl
      Appalled by sense of urgency to resurrect the dead
      Shed my last skin searching for angel with broken wing
      Will she sing that e minor hymn? For those of us who sin?
      For those of us who sin?
      Within dirty sanctum became brethren's anthem
      Jesus Christ a Black man walks the earth still
      Forgot to speak the real, Struggle's fate not sealed.
      I appeal to nil, never one, not one, none.

      Amplify brainwaves to condense my thought
      Bends the dark
      Why question my art?

      Shunned by rays of Amon Ra,
      Darkness exposes every soul's flaw
      I forever remain raw, unpolished
      Drunk off knowledge of knowing I'm dumb
      Now remain none's sum, while inner eyes' stay numb
      We all shall succumb to eternal sleep,
      For now I'll just yawn and speak on ill gutter beats
      Watch falling leaves, walk on knees,
      Down graveled path vocalize own epitaph
      Evoke on path towards inner, nonlinear
      Lay head mongst sinners
      Solitude falls winter
      Appalled at visual surrounding
      Kept my bearings non-grounded
      Liquid language kept frozen 40 oz's
      How many Mc's know who Faust is?
      Pardon original, Manuscript fit text type tailored suit
      Felt effects at root through vein type heron' you shoot
      Euphoric, saw banks of Tigris and Euphrates
      Fertile Crescent hold more lessons than taught by deities
      Consciousness is leaving me
      Seen that same sage turn page on habitual
      Perform tectonic rituals,
      Broke abacus to calculate coordinates
      But can't afford rent.... It makes no sense.
      Forgot our days in shackles? You concentrate on battles?
      I lecture graduates discussing Kant till they leave baffled.

      Amplify brainwaves to condense my thought
      Bends the dark
      Why question my art?

dälek – From Filthy Tongue of Gods and Griots

Album Reviews

If you’re the type of hip-hop fan who finds a group like OutKast a tad too experimental for your tastes, you might wanna back away from this album slowly and try not to make any sudden moves. With a cacophonous sound that falls somewhere between the Bomb Squad, Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, and that annoying guy with the jackhammer who just…won’t…stop, this is music for those people who think Anti-Pop Consortium just isn’t quite weird enough. The jarring industrial noise that drives the opening “Spiritual Healing” is your first clue that Dälek is coming from a whole ‘nother frame of reference, with producer Oktopus’ grinding grooves providing a dense, dark backdrop for some furiously inventive mike work. Thankfully, not every track here is quite so chaotic: The haunting instrumental “Antichristo” wouldn’t sound out of place on a DJ Shadow album, while the exotic Indian drones and tabla beats of “Trampled Brethren” almost border on accessible. But even a noise-loving freak like DJ Spooky would be put off by the dissonant, 12-minute spoken word epic “Black Smoke Rises.” Warning: Easy listening this is not.

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