deadverse recordings

Discography

Gutter Tactics

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  • Label: Ipecac Recordings
  • Release: 27 Jan, 2009
  • Catalog No: IPC-109
  • Blessed Are They Who Bash

    • Lyrics

      "What Malcolm X said when he got silenced by Elijah Mohammed was in fact true, America chickens coming home to roost. We took this country by terror, away from the Sioux, the Apache, the Arowak, the Comanche, the Arapahoe, the Navajo. Terrorism. We took Africans from their country to build our way of ease and kept them enslaved and living in fear. Terrorism. We bombed Granada and killed innocent civilians, babies, non-military personnel. We bombed the black civilian community of Panama with stealth bombers and killed unarmed teenagers and toddlers, pregnant mothers, and hardworking fathers. We bombed Qaddafi home and killed his child. Blessed are they who bash your children head against a rock. We bombed Iraq. We killed unarmed civilians trying to make a living. We bombed a plant in Sudan to payback for the attack on our embassy, killed hundreds of hardworking people, mothers and fathers who left home to go that day not knowing that they would never get back home. We bombed Hiroshima, we bombed Nagasaki, and we nuked far more than the thousands in New York and the Pentagon and we never batted an eye." - Rev. Wright

  • No Question

    • Lyrics

      1. Rely on same information but my ears don't bleed
      Wait for flood waters to recede before we stampede
      Live by assassin's creed transposed to soul of MC
      Hands fold and bend knees,
      Actions seem empty, hollow gesture, remain secular
      Speculation of demise tries my patience
      Like Whiteboys in Bucktown concerned with race relations
      People just swoll' wit all that rent you raisin'
      Been 10 years since I spoke of .44 casings
      The way time evaporates is just amazing.
      Await a new dawn son, but without childish eyes
      Expect reality so perhaps we won't shine
      Rub away the grit we still covered in grime
      Just past my 3rd deck, I'm hittin' my stride
      If it's true what Nas said then we here to revive
      What I spit is HipHop, not yours to decide.
      While you're writting your blog, I'm straight chillin' outside
      What you see as crime, Just a means to survive
      What you read up in books, I learn from crooks that confide
      Original thought is one not derived
      Idea of being real is you don't run and hide
      Know your role when you speak
      I'm the Griot and the Scribe.

      Chorus:

      Boom-bap gave me life gave me breath (No Question!)
      Spit verse after verse to kill stress (No Question!)
      Hip-Hop at the core of this chest (No Question!)
      It's in how we dressin' In every sentence.
      (2x)

      2. No Time to reminisce, would rather resurrect respect for this art form we bless
      We viewed as useless, wicked concept I refuse to accept.
      Lies used to keep us in check and separate, succumb to intellect of this learned vagrant.
      Make direct statements reflect your own hatred
      Little held sacred, life took as payment.
      I break it down for the laymen.
      It's the same dream we chasing, same breath we wasting.
      We tend to lock horns but son we all poor
      A Black President don't ensure the sun shine.
      A rich President represent his own kind.
      As it stand now, the blind lead the blind
      Deconstruct what you fed, formulate, redefine.
      It's our nature to resist, to confront, redesign, be it beats of these rhymes.

      Chorus:

      Boom-bap gave me life gave me breath (No Question!)
      Spit verse after verse to kill stress (No Question!)
      Hip-Hop at the core of this chest (No Question!)
      It's in how we dressin' In every sentence.
      (2x)

      (Cuts)

      Chorus:

      Boom-bap gave me life gave me breath (No Question!)
      Spit verse after verse to kill stress (No Question!)
      Hip-Hop at the core of this chest (No Question!)
      It's in how we dressin' In every sentence.
      (4x)

  • Armed With Krylon

    • Lyrics

      1. Connect with left to solar plexes
      Existence got me vexed it's miraculous I slept
      Bent light fall out of frame, this pertain to sole function
      maintain a child's wonder wit soul old like earth under.
      Measured man's worth by highest standards,
      Candid movements remembered by that vicious slander.
      He who asks the most questions got the most answers
      Never one to pander, but these files are tampered
      Touch nerve wit paranoids devoid of joy.
      Remain your basic B-Boy with a love for noise.
      Through the wildest situations retain my poise.
      Perfect pitch in paragraphs that I spit
      Microphones get ripped wit syllables full of deeper definitions
      Divisive speech patterns, switch so people listen
      I carry on traditions, indicative of status.
      A street scholar raised spinning wax platters.

      Break:

      I could spend days diggin' through creates.
      Love that dusty ass vinyl smell
      Come out the shop straight dirt. (45's Lp's 10" 7")

      Chorus:

      Shattered homes spit concrete poems
      Armed with Krylon when we roam
      Niggas got beef? Go straight for dome!
      Plan to walk streets? Best you keep your mental honed.
      (2x)

      2. I'm that rare mix of intellect injected savagery.
      capable of abstract thought, reality remains ingrained illusions
      These false revolutions reduce men to stick figures rockin' Che Guevara,
      And they think they trend setters
      Should know better
      Letters kept left of center!

      Chorus:

      Shattered homes spit concrete poems
      Armed with Krylon when we roam
      Niggas got beef? Go straight for dome!
      Plan to walk streets? Best you keep your mental honed. (2x)

      (break)

      Shattered homes spit concrete poems
      Armed with Krylon when we roam
      Niggas got beef? Go straight for dome!
      Plan to walk streets? Best you keep your mental honed. (2x)

  • Who Medgar Evers Was..

    • Lyrics

      1. Tell the truth, you never knew who Medgar Evers was...
      Emmit Till and Malcolm both spilt the same blood.
      Bobby Seale know the reasons why there ain't love.
      Dr. Newton died by the very same gun.
      Martin Luther tried... we still in same slum
      More than 40 years lower class stays numb
      Guess we better off if we all play dumb
      Problem is I'm born with intelligent tongue
      Silver Spoons only on tube where we from
      Ain't rude just consumed with how they business done
      Only solace lie in the language of drums.
      The Boom-Bap sparks revolutions.
      The Boom-Bap sparks revolutions.
      Only solace lie in the language of drums
      Ain't rude just consumed with how they business done
      Silver spoons only on tube where we from
      Problem is I'm born with intelligent tongue
      Guess we better off if we all play dumb
      More than 40 years Lower class stay numb
      Martin Luther tried we still in same slum
      Dr. Newton died by the very same gun.
      Bobby Seale know the reasons why there ain't love.
      Emmit Till and Malcolm both spilt the same blood
      Tell the truth, you never knew who Medgar Evers was...

      Chorus:

      Can't forget how they fought or the struggle.
      Remove one block, watch us all tumble.
      One thing they taught, we got to stay humble.
      Shades of Melanin like pieces to the puzzle!
      (4x)

      2.Tell the truth, you never knew who Medgar Evers was...
      Emmit Till and Malcolm both spilt the same blood.
      Bobby Seale know the reason why there ain't love.
      Dr. Newton died by the very same gun.
      Martin Luther tried... we still in same slums
      More than 40 years Lower class stays numb
      Guess we better off if we all play dumb
      Problem is I'm born with intelligent tongue
      Silver Spoons only on tube where we from
      Ain't rude just consumed with how they business done
      Only solace lie in the language of drums.
      The Boom-Bap sparks revolutions.
      The Boom-Bap sparks revolutions.
      Only solace lie in the language of drums
      Ain't rude just consumed with how your business done
      Silver spoons only on tube where we from
      Problem is I'm born with intelligent tongue
      Guess we better off if we all play dumb
      More than 40 years Lower class stay numb
      Martin Luther tried we still in same slum
      Dr. Newton died by the very same gun.
      Bobby Seale know the reasons why there ain't love.
      Emmit Till and Malcolm both spilt the same blood
      Tell the truth, you never knew who Medgar Evers was...

  • Street Diction

    • Lyrics

      1. Evolve from high bred intellectuals who slept on park bench
      Topple you off pedestal,
      Thrive at any level.
      Find it hard to settle
      Traverse habitat that tests a man's meddle.
      Fist grip the neck of devils.
      Barely time to revel.
      They fencing off the ghettos.
      Most heads I know never even seen a meadow.
      Son of concrete given birth and death on same street.
      We got no time to weep.

      2. And what the steel don't dead, rots away with disease.
      Gettin' carried by six is our only release.
      Time has come to pull sword from sheath,
      Raise the meek...
      I love these beats!
      See shifty eyes like they never held heat.
      walk 50 miles, and we never retreat.
      Re-read every scroll cause I barely do sleep.
      Hope to reach my apex like Kerouac at his peak!

      Chorus:

      Best you don't speak, just listen
      Bound to choke the life out your chest like these mics that I'm grippin'
      20/20 through eyes with ambition.
      Here to redefine the street diction.
      (2x)

      3. Vent frustration over underground airwaves.
      displayed traits that convey my conviction.
      Fall between the cracks of this system
      Systematically act erratic to emphasize position
      Post-appocolyptic landscape creates vivid image
      struggle ain't made for the timid.
      In these Bricks one mistake leave you rigid
      Ain't here for the gimmicks
      Hip-Hop is how you live it.
      Check the verbal rhythm.
      Reduced to head nods when you feel'em
      The fortunate connect, the rest get the serum.
      Poisonous ideas infect like snakes venom
      Vernacular adapts to express what's in them.
      Masses organized once again pose threat
      "Chickens home to roost" is what a wise man said.
      Since he spit truth they made sure he bled.
      It's been much too long that we been misled.

      Chorus:

      Best you don't speak, just listen
      Bound to choke the life out your chest like these mics that I'm grippin'
      20/20 through eyes with ambition.
      Here to redefine the street diction.
      (4x)

      Mad respect to all the deadverse massive...
      Labtek, Komplx, Dev-one,Oddateee, Mo' Rican, B4L, General Marz-Z, Mahewal, Diggs, Free, Skalla, Big Moe, DLEMMA, Rabs Ricanatti, Hip, My brother Big G, Subtitle, DJ Rek, DJ Motiv, the Bug holding down London, Spoek, Houseshoes, Muddsligaz, all my niggas!

  • A Collection of Miserable Thoughts

    • Lyrics

      1. This goes too quick, at times I miss those I swore deserved fists
      Reminisce of a youthful liquored bliss
      Dulled pains of poverty
      We sacrificed innocence dealt with daily anxiety
      Hoped for future riches
      Mangled an already chopped sentence, just to make something ours.
      Child with distant eyes smiles as he sips from life, tastes all sour.
      The meek that await power have no concept of time.
      Now at this final hour I consider the value of rhyme.
      Wasted breath or a testament to the down-trotten?
      The apple that Adam ate was found rotten.
      At the worst of time I still find my head nodding.
      This Boom-Bap tapped subconscious synapse that this pen's jotting
      Tattered tongue spits,
      It's not a song but a collection of miserable thoughts laced with wit.
      Don't give a shit if you find me mildly entertaining.
      Look around we got 'nuff minstrels in training.
      My verses pertain to that truth we all feel in gut.
      World's Corrupt!
      So now what?

  • Los Macheteros / Spear of a Nation

    • Lyrics

      1. December 11th 1974: 336 East 110th Street East Harlem.
      January 24th 1975: 54 Pearl Street
      August 3rd 1977: 342 Madison Ave, 150 East 42nd Street
      August 8th 1977: 1270 6th Ave
      June 9th 1979: 18 West Monroe Street, Chicago
      March 15th 1980: Carter-Mondale Headquarters, GHW Bush Headquarters

      Chorus:

      Los Macheteros: Filiberto Ojeda Rios
      Los Macheteros:Orlando Gonzalez Claudio
      Los Macheteros: Juan Enrique Palmer
      Los Macheteros.

      Spear of a Nation: Chris Hani
      Spear of a Nation: Nelson Mandela
      Spear of a Nation: Walter Sisulu
      Spear of a Nation: Joe Slovo
      Spear of a Nation: Oliver Reginald Tambo
      Spear of a Nation: Chris Hani
      Spear of a Nation: Nelson Mandela
      Spear of a Nation: Walter Sisulu
      Spear of a Nation: Joe Slovo
      Spear of a Nation!

      2. December 16th 1961: Guerilla attacks on government installations.
      July 11th 1963: Tried for 221 acts of sabotage.
      January 8th 1982: Koeberg Nuclear power plant.
      May 20th 1983: Church Street, Pretoria.
      June 14th 1986: Magoo's Bar, Durban.
      August 1st 1990: Operations suspended in preparation of the dismantling of Apartheid.

  • We Lost Sight

    • Lyrics

      1. I never learn... Concerned there's no consequence.
      Situation tense as I test my tolerance
      Volatile verbs fall between common words
      Daily drama frays nerves
      Humans move in herds, seems so obscurred
      I observe minute movements confused wit your speech
      Heard a tinge of fear when you preach.
      Only seems natural.
      Actual parables pertain to non-factual events that are pushed as past tense.
      Kept thought concise when I vent but can't focus.
      Concrete terrain turned molten.
      Tumultious days fall consecutive on shoulders of men...
      Got enough weight without being condemned.

      Chorus:

      We lost sight of how to use these mics
      What scripts we write..
      How to choose our fights.
      (We lost sight)
      (4x)

      2. Yo, wearily I dragged bruised knuckles
      wearing Lee jeans and nameplate belt-buckles
      Grip a 58 with that same strange conviction
      Give a fuck who listens
      Long as I'm rippin'
      Verses laced wit wisdom
      Born of foul conditions
      Content wit fire hydrants when we're children
      Never guessed at summers end half would be in prison
      Past 30 years, thankful that I'm living
      Lost sight of heaven when my men slept in caskets
      Tap straight to pain that's how my rhymes are crafted
      Love my Brown Bastards
      Display survival tactics
      Actions always louder than vocals amplified
      Hopeful that my seeds won't be vilified
      There's always iller rhymes
      Living in horrid times
      Habitat produce youth equipped with iller minds.

      Chorus:

      We lost sight of how to use these mics
      What scripts we write..
      How to choose our fights.
      (We lost sight)
      (6x) to end.

  • Gutter Tactics

    • Lyrics

      Chorus:

      Gutter tactics backed with mathematics
      Acts to cause havoc
      Words weave with static
      Streets tattered
      Preachers turned addicts
      Knowledge subtracted
      Equation is Tragic
      (2x)

      1. I've had it with these half-assed kids, they ain't ready son
      They talk all that shit, they already done.
      You ask who I is? One in a million.
      Intellect bred on Bricks that your feet is on
      Bet your breath that your text bounce off chest like teflon,
      That's my word god!
      Misspeak, catch a left from this southpaw.
      Bleed histories of Mayan Kings and outlaws.
      Out-thought master strategists with quicker wit.
      Go toe-to-toe with the illest pugilist
      Chose to rip microphones
      Deliver iller diatribe
      I'd dissect KRS to ensure we survive
      Times desperate, culture infested.
      Can't rock original style with a template
      Memories cemented of where I first felt this
      Soul set to rest on C-ment
      Seen as deviant
      Designed as militant
      Blinded by my sun only see our silhouette
      Attack on all fronts.

      Chorus:

      Gutter tactics backed with mathematics
      Acts to cause havoc
      Words weave with static
      Streets tattered
      Preachers turned addicts
      Knowledge subtracted
      Equation is Tragic
      (2x)

      2. I've had it with these half-assed kids, Only concerned with material
      Inferior insight, rhymes superficial.
      Serial mental produce paragraphs for instrumentals
      Now isn't that simple?
      Lyrics aimed at temple
      Now who do I resemble?
      At window holding rifle...
      Attempts to stifle,
      Thwarted with assorted left and right fists.
      Only know to resist, as these situations shift
      Politicians lose grip on the multitudes and masses
      Explanations get graphic
      Ghastly acts occur regular
      They feed off the jugular
      Jungle warfare turned urban combat
      Conversations tapped, operations turned black.
      too late to turn back
      Survival is how well we adapt to change in habitat
      The intelligence they lack
      Are the concepts we grasp
      Pains of our past etched in man's fiber
      History transcribed by hands of these liars.

      Chorus:

      Gutter tactics backed with mathematics
      Acts to cause havoc
      Words weave with static
      Streets tattered
      Preachers turned addicts
      Knowledge subtracted
      Equation is Tragic
      (4x)

  • 2012 (The Pillage)

    • Lyrics

      1.As the frail chested debate, the whole world crumbles.
      Tectonic plates quake, the blessed date hovers
      Multitudes lumber with labor that favors a privileged few
      I'm privy to news that these anchormen knew
      But confused with tall tales
      They speak with no clue.
      I speak with razored tongue and pristine vision
      You clinging to a past that perhaps left us dreaming
      Longing for a heaven I never knew.
      Don't know who holds puppet strings,
      never seen a grown man with cherub's wings
      Know a ton of dark skin left to rot at Sing-Sing.
      Better man wins when he lacks melanin.
      The best man's hung from the strongest oak limb.
      Strongest man break tree like a young twig.
      Wish I sung melodies like a young Stiv.
      Forgot that these Flavors is why we all live!

      Chorus:

      2012 ain't the end we just beginning!
      Mayan Ruins rebuilt to sky-scrape
      your fate's dimming.
      Hide your wives and children
      We down to burn buildings
      Slice necks that tend to nod,
      This the pillage!

      2012 ain't the end we just beginning!
      Mayan Ruins rebuilt to sky-scrape
      your fate's dimming.

      2. Hide your wives and children, thoughts they keep building
      Forms modern pyramids to fall off this grid...
      Breath got me livid
      No sleep for the wicked
      Lullabies for the timid
      Fuck'em good riddance.
      Spit for kids rocking fitteds to heads wit Mel's Message
      this age got me restless
      Rage resurrected
      Pressured Langston Hughes to let this boil fester.
      Fists they seem precious
      Steel speaks in 8 sections
      Structures or weapons, shells they left breathless.
      Violence ain't senseless
      The words said were meant kid.
      Drink grains fermented to spark insurrections.
      Feed off this tension,
      Riots remembered result in learnt lessons
      Form precise sentence
      Lives change directions
      like Nile we life's essence
      Engaged eternal, we struggle with peril
      Perhaps we are gutter, but your God is my devil!

      Chorus:

      2012 ain't the end we just beginning!
      Mayan Ruins rebuilt to sky-scrape
      your fate's dimming.
      Hide your wives and children
      We down to burn buildings
      Slice necks that tend to nod,
      This the pillage!

      2012 ain't the end we just beginning!
      Mayan Ruins rebuilt to sky-scrape
      your fate's dimming.
      Hide your wives and children
      We down to burn buildings
      Slice necks that tend to nod,
      This the pillage!

      2012 ain't the end we just beginning!
      Mayan Ruins rebuilt to sky-scrape
      your fate's dimming.
      Hide your wives and children
      We down to burn buildings
      Slice necks that tend to nod,
      This the pillage!

  • Atypical Stereotype

    • Lyrics

      1. Truth stay intangible, they treat us like animals
      Don't expect progress, the movement's all lateral.
      Upward climb result in heinous crime.
      Talkin' Tulsa '21, May 31
      Burnt Black Wall Street behind some pale sheets
      Shit is weak
      Historically, Events remain cyclical
      Stories so typical the tears run dry.
      Sip the Iron Wine as poetic device.
      Quick to link thought like when tape get spliced
      What I call a good time?
      My hood and three dice.
      Ol' Gold got this kid real nice.
      I'm a atypical stereotype.
      Ol' Gold got this kid real nice.
      I'm a atypical stereotype.

      Chorus:

      Truth stay intangible, they treat us like animals
      (4x)

      2. They got enamored with the glamour, lost sight of our plight.
      Doesn't take proper grammar to be able to write.
      Harsh truth always heard between the lines I recite.
      Change the world and I'll change my gripes.
      Change the world and I'll change my gripes.
      Sip the Iron wine at such great heights I ain't conscious.
      Speak for the paupers, griots, and the authors.

      Chorus:

      Truth stay intangible, they treat us like animals
      (2x)

      They got enamored with the glamour, lost sight of our plight.
      Doesn't take proper grammar to be able to write.
      Harsh truth always heard

      Truth stay intangible, they treat us like animals
      (2x)

      Change the world and I'll change my gripes.
      Change the world and I'll change my gripes.

      Truth stay intangible, they treat us like animals
      (1x)

      Sip the Iron wine at such great heights I ain't conscious.
      Speak for the paupers, griots, and the authors.

      Truth stay intangible, they treat us like animals
      (2x)

      Sip the Iron wine at such great heights I ain't conscious.
      Speak for the paupers, griots, and the authors.

      Truth stay intangible, they treat us like animals
      (2x)

      Sip the Iron wine at such great heights I ain't conscious.
      Speak for the paupers, griots, and the authors.
      Diseased try to lead? They lost us.

      Truth stay intangible, they treat us like animals
      (4x)

dälek – Gutter Tactics

Album Reviews

Coming off of the blistering beats and symphonic doom of Abandoned Language, New Jersey duo Dälek (pronounced dialect) continue swaggering down the same path that made their last album a success, and in a sense, Gutter Tactics could be considered Abandoned Language, Pt. 2. When you’ve found your sound, why make a departure? Previous tour dates with Ipecac labelmates — Isis in particular — prove to be hugely influential once again, as metallic fuzz and white-noise layers propel the agitated rhymes of dälek (the MC) in a thick swampy steam. Aptly titled, the album has a dark, disorienting, and toxic vibe. Instrumentally, Gutter Tactics shares much in common with the droning shoegaze of My Bloody Valentine and the distorted orchestration of Mono, due to live overdubs provided by various musicians ushered from dälek’s Deadverse record label into his newly built studio. The funky jazz of Motiv is washed into a haze behind Destructo Swarmbots’ myriad of guitar effects, resulting in a blurry ultra-compressed dreamscape wedged between the brick-breaking snaps of Oktopus’ beats. It’s actually quite difficult to specify what instrumentation makes up the wall of sound — synths, strings, horns, guitar effects, or something else entirely. It all simply sounds like a sludgy cyclic hum that shifts between two moods: threatening and beautiful. On one side of the coin, there’s the ominous “No Question,” with factory crunch drum sequencing accented by intense Jeru the Damaja-type rhymes. On the other, there’s the flashback to the sweeter days of hip-hop in the sedate and droning “We Lost Sight,” a song that marks the MC and producer at the top of their game as chamber organs swell hypnotically underneath a gritty boom-bap, while dälek reminisces in a echoing vocal, “We lost sight on how to use these mikes/What scripts we write/How to choose our fights.” Disenchantment with the state of rap, and society as a whole, is a major underlying theme, but the statements never feel too preachy or in your face. Instead, the vocal freestyles hover just slightly above the music, delivered in an amorphous mumble that matches the sonic abyss of the background perfectly. Headphones are highly recommended for this one.