DARK TOWER: ELI FOLEY & JODY LLOYD
RELEASES:
http://trillion.bandcamp.com/album/real-zeal-men
http://trillion.bandcamp.com/album/canterbury-drafts
http://trillion.bandcamp.com/album/the-dark-world
http://trillion.bandcamp.com/album/the-pacific-scandal
"Born in the land of the long white cloud, Dark Tower; the story is ours: The glory is all of ours,"
The 'cultural cringe' factor is so strong in NZ that any reference to local culture gets immediately stamped with the 'kiwiana' tag and quickly filed under the 'still too local to take note of' sign.
Meanwhile anything American sounding gets lapped up by the advertising based media, our local contingent of capitalist lap dogs, subservient it seems to the distorted views of big daddy empire: The good ole' US of A.....
It seems local hip hop, in general, follows this same pattern, with most local MCs attempting to emulate their American idols, right down to their accents, code of dress and even styles of phrasing. One could almost be forgiven for thinking that New Zealand was a colony of the Americas with the amount of non-local accented rhyming prevalent on our airwaves...
Almost... except there is one group who refuse to bend a knee to this identity of cultural collusion: Dark Tower: New Zealand's own local heroes: the Real Zeal Men.
With intelligent rhymes delivered in a fresh and real accent the DT lads take the listener on an intense musical and lyrical journey, juxtaposing a Tolkienesque Dark World with our own more familiar Anglicized climes: Thereby sharpening the focus on the mythic stature and spiritual depth of our land: The sleeping giant which has informed and mystified many a generation of New Zealand artist.
This focus on our locality is not patriotic:
It's not nationalistic:
It's about identity:
Being who We are.
Being who You are!
This is the message of the Dark Tower: Be Your Self.
"Dark Tower are on a mission to remind us who we are," - Nick Bollinger, The Listener.
DARK TOWER - THE DARK WORLD
press release (2005)
Dark Tower (Jody Lloyd (trillion) & Eli Foley) began in 1993. Many things have happened in the years between then and now. In 1995 when they released their first EP ‘Real Zealmen’, Dark Tower gained legendary status overnight with student radio stations. And the low budget music video for ‘Zealman’ achieved a cult status. For two lads from Christchurch a future making New Zealand flavoured hip hop looked bright. But within five years the tables would turn. From supporting many prominent acts on their way through Christchurch, to playing the Big Day Out. To being shunned by the hip hop scene and Auckland media for being too real. In the past few years we have seen most emcees from around the world re-adopting their own accents, most prominent in UK and Europe. Australia has always had a strong natural accent hip hop scene; this is why they have accepted Dark Tower so well across the ditch. But New Zealand seems to be so far away from the natural progression. Perhaps we can blame NZ on Air and corporate sponsors for rewarding the bad American imitations.
When Dark Tower released the album ‘Canterbury Drafts’ in 2001 though Universal, the programme director at 95bfm refused to play list any tracks off it as ‘...the New Zealand accent doesn’t sound good in hip hop’. This narrow minded approach to local music followed through to magazines who wouldn’t profile the band or review the album. It was a dead-end which spiralled into an angry bunch of songs. The world was changing. When one is oppressed, one can see oppression in others. The truth reveals itself. And for the poet, the pen becomes the outlet for the emotion. THE DARK WORLD is this outlet.
THE DARK WORLD covers topics which others are either or too oblivious or not brave enough to tackle with at such depth, making Dark Tower the most politically aware hip hop outfit in New Zealand. Dark Tower is not trying to make hits or get on TV and this makes the end product pure socially conscious hip hop.Even though Dark Tower is not recognised by the NZ hip hop scene, a chapter in the recent book on Aotearoa hip hop by Gareth Shute is dedicated to them.
The Dark World CD contains a CD-ROM component containing nine bonus MP3s and a music video for the track Barad Dur directed by Brendon Palmer, which incidentally was not played by music television.
CANTERBURY DRAFTS
RELEASED 2001
REVIEWS Six Years in the making, Dark Tower's follow up to Real Zealmen is finally here, and it's been worth the wait. Canterbury rapper the Eel and the Earl present homegrown hiphop with withering rhymes with catchy beats. It's a very intense record, perhaps a bit too intense at times, scattered with local references and filled with kiwi vernacular. One of the best things about Dark Tower is they don't feel compelled to stray from their roots, in style or content; no put on American accents here. The album has 12 proper tracks and several interludes... which includes the excellent little number 'you beauty' and 'baggy trousers' where the boys lighten up a bit. Not much escapes their attention, and in an ultra competitive and bitchy genre they are not afraid to say it as they see it. Nick Gormack, The Press - June 2001. Six years is a long time to be waiting for a debut album. Christchurch, New Zealand hip-hop duo Dark Tower started strongly way back in 1995 with a killer lead single and subsequent EP entitled Zealman which established their intentions as being perhaps the only culturally conscious New Zealand rap outfits around. The EP seamlessly weaved a plethora of kiwi references (everything from rhyming weetbix to the EP sleeve, which depicts the “Edmunds Cookbook” cover – a kiwi tradition) along with a playful musical backing and some excellent, dry vocal delivery. Over the course of the late 90s the boys (duo Jody “The Earl” Lloyd and Eli “The Eel” Foley) continued to develop their live sound. They created a strong body of songs that was continually redeveloped and reworked, releasing a number of singles – the majority of which are present on this album. The group eventually took on a third member (Jamie), who left the group just as it was about to put out further delayed the album’s release as the group once again reworked songs to remove Jamie from the proceedings. The end result is somewhat disconnected, over-produced, yet amazingly intricate. Lloyd has a knack for developing dark moods with his backing instrumentation, incorporating a number of guest musicians into the mix (including his father David – a seasoned folk musician, and pop-superstar-that-never-was Lindon Puffin). The heart of the album is still very present – “The Land of the Long White Cloud” details the duo’s love for their fair city, creating imagery with their thickly accented drawls over some lovely reed whistles from David Lloyd. Their big recent single “Baggy Trousers” has been reworked, still retaining the fun, humorous aspect of the single version – but really it’s a throw-away joke hip-hop at the best of times. The duo of tracks entitled “That’s Right” raise the seriousness of the album – answering back to the various Hip-Hop crews who have criticized Dark Tower for being too “New Zealand”. Along with erstwhile old-school crew Upper Hutt Posse, Dark Tower represent New Zealand as it is without being forced into Americanized stylistic traits, yet some took their angle as merely a demoralizing joke on hip-hop itself. Eli and the Earl complement each other nicely on the tracks – Eli being something more of an alto rapper whilst the Earl sticks to a low, almost spoken lyrical flow. Overly moody overtones make “Southward Bound” something of an album highlight. Perfectly illustrating the eclectic instrumentation of the album with some tasty guitar work along with a number of unidentifiable bowed sounds and sample manipulations – the track ebbs and flows before Lindon Puffin adds his voice to the sarcastic punch-line: “..Coz if you don’t go and take your time to do that helpful dead, then no ones gonna bloody help you, in you time of need”. The second of their redeveloped tracks, “Sons of the South” actually manages to improve on the original - a fully realized take on Lloyd’s (otherwise over-produced sounding) new style, with the boys showing incredibly tight flow. The track builds through a number of different styles, the bass squelching and out whilst the likes of turntable, old-TV theme show music, and full orchestral back builds and drops out. “Zealman II” totally changes the context of the original track, turning it into an epic, guitar and turntable fueled reinterpretation. Sounding somewhat overblown – the track reads like a manifesto of lyrical prose. Dark Tower obviously have a great knack for building complex vocal treatments – “we share a common thread of history with much of the world / in that we live in a land which was forcibly colonized by a white culture” flowing like water at the mouth for The Earl. Basically the album is a very personalized, over-developed and intricate document to a well-defined culture. It’s an answer back to Dark Tower’s critics, and on that perspective it succeeds immensely, but at times that feeling distracts from the album being enjoyable on a purely audible level. Thankfully there are enough highs to keep the album afloat, and the numerous in-jokes and New Zealand-based humor add to the albums appeal greatly. Chris Andrews - Stylus Magazine Older Reviews - EP's & Singles
DARK TOWER - The Baggy Trousers Project EP (2000) Second single: With a pisstake video in hand the Baggy Trouser boys bestrode the land. Consider it to be a cross breed mongrel, combining the slickest raps this side of the equator; the fattest beats under the sun & planet turning guitars to create the anthem of baggy rebellion. Growling on the heels of such hybrid hits as Walk This Way & Shamrocks and Shenanigans it is a sure fire radio burner, add to that the swagger of Naughty by Nature's 'O.P.P.'and the boys have it Nailed... also featuring the very excellent 'Country Funkyins' a story of a journey into the NZ hearlands to a party where the farmers love hip hop...! all the ladies over there! YOU KNOW WHY MY PANTS HANG SO LOW. Joel Brown, Radio DJ - Channel Z DARK TOWER with Dave Dobbyn - The New Outlook Single (1999) First single release: A revamp of the NZ classic 'Outlook for Thursday' with an ironical twist. Whilst utilizing the same format as Puffy et al The DT boys grab this opportunity to take a swipe at the eighties rip off styles, plus highlight the lack of Local Content given prominence by the enzed media. Featuring the man himself Dave Dobbyn providing Fat Gats & revitalized with some slick as sick arse lyrics and complex textures that are a trademark of Jody Lloyd's productions also features a fat remix courtesy of DLT & Nick Roughan, plus a thumping Dub mixture from Tiki Taane of Salmonella dub fame. A must have for any serious New Zealand music collection. Jeremy Seymour, ripitup - June 1999. DARK TOWER - Real Zealmen EP (1995) 'At 20 minutes long, this EP is exceptional value. Dark Tower are two Christchurch rappers who come across as kind of an antipodean version of the Beastie Boys. They aren't afraid to try anything musically, and their rhymes are heavy on humour (don't get me wrong - it's not a joke or novelty rap). Listening to Eel and The Earl rap about sheep and rural life really brought me back home. Rather than follow the US hip-hop style, Dark Tower strike out on their own, sampling the old Country Calendar theme and tossing in a few bagpipes for good measure. That said, the beats are good, the rhymes strong and the lyrical flow is excellent.' Rip It Up - 1995 |
THE DARK WORLD
RELEASED 2005
REVIEWS Dark Tower have always been the outsiders of the local hip hop scene. Jody Lloyd and Eli Foley have made it their mission to create a distinctly local hip hop sound, unmarred by American accents or other imported influences - an approach which has started to gain the duo some interest in the Australian hip hop scene. However, it was this steadfastness in attitude that initially distanced Dark Tower from other locals rappers and Lloyd's outspoken nature has had the group burning bridges left, right, and centre over the years. More than a decade from their first release, the pair have returned with another out-of-nowhere effort and it is certainly the most successful work that Dark Tower have put out, with the blues guitar, crackling beats, and samples meshing more coherently than on previous releases. On the downside, some tracks are overly long, with the beats slowly turning from fresh to tired as the track extends beyond its natural length. The political nature of the lyrics is another mixed blessing - it is great to hear local rap taking on wider subject matter, but the constant lashing out gives the album a vitriolic, negative vibe. Nonetheless, if you want to hear a range of politically-minded raps delivered in a Kiwi accent then there is simply no other game in town. Gareth Shute - NZ Musician Magazine It begins with a lovely tune about being a kiwi kid, weetbix, glass bottle refunds and After School! Then our minds wander as the DT boys Earl and Eel take us on a thought provoking journey through the corngate scandal, Brittany Spears, 9/11, the corporate round table and the scathing indictments on "Hip-Hop" culture that we have come to expect from these ex-cantab self styled "Natural Accent" EMCEES. Skilful production at the hands of Trillion and fantastic mastering from Zed Brookes make this record shine. If Hip-Hop isn’t your bag I'm sure you will still get a chuckle from the Christina Aguiliera samples or the sound clip of John Campbell shutting down that Prime Minister of ours. It's been a long time since the debut "Canterbury Drafts" and I must say that the wait was well worth it. Autobiographical, Political and Melodical. Fucking brilliant! Music for those of us that cower under the capitalist regime, after all... It's not the generals or the bosses who shape and make the crosses. Nice work. Mark Tupuhi - A Mag Dark World - the new album from Aotearoa’s original hip hop duo Dark Tower – ascends from the ashes of New Zealand’s urban scene with its politically conscious kick ass music. Amidst a deluge of cash-crop style Americanised hip hop, Dark Tower yields a musical landscape that treats you to a world of fresh, inspirational and dedicated original hip hop at its finest. There is no other sound quite like Dark Tower. The infectious beats, intricate music and lucid, audacious lyrics should make this urban album of the year. From the nostalgic nuances of 'when I was a kid', to the brash broadcast of 'across the fields', from the seamless sampling of 'winds of change' to the rockin’ resonance of 'the dark tower anthem' – these anti-hip hoppers ‘holla back’ with a beacon of light in a Dark World. Rebecca Fountain - Presto Magazine Jody Lloyd (Trillion/Dark Tower) is dedicated to preserving the no-frills, lo-fi work ethos, designing record sleeves himself and cutting and pasting from all over the place - working like a sound-collage artist as much as a rapper. He’s also the owner/creator of She’ll Be Right records releasing his own sound excursions as well as great albums by Jeremy Taylor and Lindon Puffin among others. The DIY force is strong with this one. So strong, that I always think of Dark Tower as being what Chris Knox might sound like if he worked in the hip-hop genre. The Kiwi accents offended some hip-hop “purists”, but I’d rather hear a twanged vowel than some false approximation of what “street life” is like (standing accused: Scribe, Savage, Dei Hamo). Assisting Lloyd in his political diatribes set within unpredictable rhymes and innovative beats is Eli Foley. And when the two can’t say it themselves they use speeches drawn from television news and National Radio. Sean Plunket takes on Marion Hobbs, John Campbell challenges Helen Clark - it’s like a living-document soundtrack to a political Celebrity Death Match. And it’s fantastic stuff. Easily as good as I remember Canterbury Drafts being. Kudos. 4/5 Simon Sweetman - Dominion POst and from Simon Sweetmans 'The best NZ albums I have reviewed' Dark Tower The Dark World Hear National Radio's Sean Plunket take on Marian Hobbs or John Campbell challenge Helen Clark - like a living-document soundtrack to a political Celebrity Death Match. These great moments are interspersed with some quirky, inventive beats and loops in the latest Dark Tower record. It f**ks me off no end that this band has been ragged on in the local music press for having Kiwi accents and drawling their vowels. Well I'd rather hear a Kiwi rapper sing about something that actually happened, or is happening here - and while they do so, actually sound like themselves rather than some wannabe gangsta. Jody Lloyd (Trillion/Dark Tower) is dedicated to preserving the no-frills, lo-fi work ethos, designing record sleeves himself and cutting and pasting from all over the place - working like a sound-collage artist as much as a rapper. He's also the owner/creator of She'll Be Right records releasing his own sound excursions as well as great albums by Jeremy Taylor and Lindon Puffin among others. Assisting Lloyd in his political diatribes set within unpredictable rhymes is Eli Foley. And when the two can't say it themselves they use said speeches drawn from television news and National Radio and it's fantastic stuff. Funny and wise - and original. And that's what should be important. These guys have been treading the boards for the best part of a decade now and I reckon it's about time they got full credit for pursuing an alternative to mainstream NZ hip-hop. Dark Tower has far more to offer than Scribe or Dei Hamo. And The Dark World is a great record from start to finish - something that cannot be said about many local hip-hop albums. Do these guys a favour, please, and have a listen. They're smart. And on point. ------------------- It’s been an up, a down, and a long road for these lads. Most readily associated with the ‘baggy trousers’ mantra. Dark Tower’s latest recording proves real zeal boys Eli Foley and Jody Lloyd have more to talk about than roomy pants. Political and sharp. The Dark World confronts via potent rhyme issues that few dare to address in prose. Audio from some of the memorable media confrontations of recent times [ref. Clark vs Campbell] has been cut in to prove more than one point, and euphemisms are absent. Beyond the message, Dark Tower have crafted a sturdy soundscape to match. Reasonably tight rhythms and a proud accent put the duo at the top end of the local smokestack. This is not an album that’s trying to be broadly and globally appropriate, it’s a plea to recognise and deal with the bullshit shat here at home before home gets to feeling alien. Will people hear that, or simply push the pointing finger aside? The Illingworth - Ripitup |
ARTICLE - 2003
from SOUNDS website
PROFILES: DARK TOWER
Trust Cantabrians to name their debut album after beer. Canterbury Drafts by Dark Tower is full of references to their home town, where all the songs and ideas were, indeed, drafted. Stephen Jewell spoke to the band's Jody 'Earl' Lloyd and Eli 'Eel' Foley. You can take the rapper out of Christchurch...
"We're paying homage to where we came from," says Foley. "It's a piss-take of the beer name and you get a mean southerly in Canterbury." Despite just releasing their debut album, Dark Tower met over eight years ago through mutual friends. Foley puts Canterbury Drafts' protracted development down to "varying life paths", while Lloyd admits there were "hiccups along the way". Last year's departure of erstwhile third member, Jamie, delayed Canterbury Drafts even further as it necessitated the re-recording of the entire album. But Lloyd and Foley say his departure hasn't changed Dark Tower's dynamic.
"It's actually taken us back to what it was before so it's not, 'My god, there's only two of us now'," says Foley. "We were already used to that." If you've heard the single, Baggy Trousers, you'd probably agree Dark Tower have never shirked from wearing their Kiwiness on their sleeves - their patriotism reflected in their laidback, humorous rapping style.
"Basically, what I value is like a curse and blessing," says Foley. "Our isolation gives us the space we've got and it's what makes us as people. It gives us an advantage because we've got a better perspective on things which is hard when you're in the midst of something. That's why we don't rap about guns or bitches - your general rap statements - because that would be really ridiculous.
"Mixing up the genres is what it's totally about in New Zealand," he continues. "The biggest scene that exists here is rock so everything else that comes along gets mixed up with that, especially from a Christchurch perspective. When we started, it was all rock bands. It's not like we do all hip hop gigs."
One of Canterbury Drafts' stand-out tracks is Zealman II, a sequel to Dark Tower's first single. It's on the album because it represents what they stand for, says Foley. "Zealman was childhood and Zealman II is like an older person. We're also a lot better at what we do so the flows are a lot better as well."
Dark Tower have also roped in a number of interesting collaborators for the album, including Lloyd's folk singer father David Lloyd, featuring on The L.o.t.L.W.C. It was actually recorded about five years ago but Dark Tower use it as a sample. Meanwhile, Tadpole's DJ Kritikl (who the Dark Tower lads met through various gigs such as the Big Day Out,) scratches up a storm on Back on the Farm and Zealman II. The Law of the Land is Canterbury Drafts' most intriguing and mysterious collaboration however. The story has it that a few years ago, Lloyd's sister (Demarnia from Cloudboy) approached a busker at Victoria Park Market and asked him if he'd support her band. Meanwhile, Lloyd was approached by someone wanting to use his bedroom as the set for a corporate video. To cut it short, the busker turned out to be Killer Ray, whose next cameo was to dress like a skateboarder and star in the video, after which, he stayed and recorded the track for Dark Tower. Hmm, or something like that.
A few years ago Lloyd released a solo album, Shadows on a Flat Land, and has just received a grant to record his sophomore effort, At A Lucid End. Whereas Dark Tower is based on lyrics, Foley says Lloyd's solo repertoire is an exploration of his musical and personal side. "There's one song that's just a girl singer which wouldn't happen on a Dark Tower album. Lucid will also be much better focused than Shadows on a Flat Land." Next on the agenda is a "flipside" album to Canterbury Drafts, one which Dark Tower hopes will explore a more complex lyrical, musical and darker side to the band.
Foley also has another feather in his bow as an illustrator, whose credits include Canterbury Drafts' design. Like the lyrics and the name, Dark Tower, the images represent half reality, half fantasy. "Essentially, Dark Tower is based on a mythical world. Sons of the South sums up who we are the best," he says.
PROFILES: DARK TOWER
Trust Cantabrians to name their debut album after beer. Canterbury Drafts by Dark Tower is full of references to their home town, where all the songs and ideas were, indeed, drafted. Stephen Jewell spoke to the band's Jody 'Earl' Lloyd and Eli 'Eel' Foley. You can take the rapper out of Christchurch...
"We're paying homage to where we came from," says Foley. "It's a piss-take of the beer name and you get a mean southerly in Canterbury." Despite just releasing their debut album, Dark Tower met over eight years ago through mutual friends. Foley puts Canterbury Drafts' protracted development down to "varying life paths", while Lloyd admits there were "hiccups along the way". Last year's departure of erstwhile third member, Jamie, delayed Canterbury Drafts even further as it necessitated the re-recording of the entire album. But Lloyd and Foley say his departure hasn't changed Dark Tower's dynamic.
"It's actually taken us back to what it was before so it's not, 'My god, there's only two of us now'," says Foley. "We were already used to that." If you've heard the single, Baggy Trousers, you'd probably agree Dark Tower have never shirked from wearing their Kiwiness on their sleeves - their patriotism reflected in their laidback, humorous rapping style.
"Basically, what I value is like a curse and blessing," says Foley. "Our isolation gives us the space we've got and it's what makes us as people. It gives us an advantage because we've got a better perspective on things which is hard when you're in the midst of something. That's why we don't rap about guns or bitches - your general rap statements - because that would be really ridiculous.
"Mixing up the genres is what it's totally about in New Zealand," he continues. "The biggest scene that exists here is rock so everything else that comes along gets mixed up with that, especially from a Christchurch perspective. When we started, it was all rock bands. It's not like we do all hip hop gigs."
One of Canterbury Drafts' stand-out tracks is Zealman II, a sequel to Dark Tower's first single. It's on the album because it represents what they stand for, says Foley. "Zealman was childhood and Zealman II is like an older person. We're also a lot better at what we do so the flows are a lot better as well."
Dark Tower have also roped in a number of interesting collaborators for the album, including Lloyd's folk singer father David Lloyd, featuring on The L.o.t.L.W.C. It was actually recorded about five years ago but Dark Tower use it as a sample. Meanwhile, Tadpole's DJ Kritikl (who the Dark Tower lads met through various gigs such as the Big Day Out,) scratches up a storm on Back on the Farm and Zealman II. The Law of the Land is Canterbury Drafts' most intriguing and mysterious collaboration however. The story has it that a few years ago, Lloyd's sister (Demarnia from Cloudboy) approached a busker at Victoria Park Market and asked him if he'd support her band. Meanwhile, Lloyd was approached by someone wanting to use his bedroom as the set for a corporate video. To cut it short, the busker turned out to be Killer Ray, whose next cameo was to dress like a skateboarder and star in the video, after which, he stayed and recorded the track for Dark Tower. Hmm, or something like that.
A few years ago Lloyd released a solo album, Shadows on a Flat Land, and has just received a grant to record his sophomore effort, At A Lucid End. Whereas Dark Tower is based on lyrics, Foley says Lloyd's solo repertoire is an exploration of his musical and personal side. "There's one song that's just a girl singer which wouldn't happen on a Dark Tower album. Lucid will also be much better focused than Shadows on a Flat Land." Next on the agenda is a "flipside" album to Canterbury Drafts, one which Dark Tower hopes will explore a more complex lyrical, musical and darker side to the band.
Foley also has another feather in his bow as an illustrator, whose credits include Canterbury Drafts' design. Like the lyrics and the name, Dark Tower, the images represent half reality, half fantasy. "Essentially, Dark Tower is based on a mythical world. Sons of the South sums up who we are the best," he says.
LYRICS FROM: CANTERBURY DRAFTS
ALRIGHT NOW I've been around the block a few times, rhyme's an old scene, mastered the art of wailing tales like Tolkien, old jeans are ragged, choose it for the shoe fit, never said shit so you can't hold me to it. Not a white token, good words are spoken on a biro pact to the high roads and back, not old cronies or crooners and we never croak on, just blokes honing tunes for folks so here's a folksong, smearing smudges - on passing cars, bearing grudges - when i'm passing past the bars, when i've had a few ales fist fails my eyesight, "i can hear ten thousand voices makin' ready for a fight." Alright Now - set a light the fires, Alright Now - rock until the night retires. Alright Now - now my mics warmed up, Alright Now - and my middle finger's formed up. Alright Now - all the hissers can stick it, we write the rules dipite fools we will kick it. -no restraint, no mistake, shedding weight.... ...getting straight to it, not about to beat around the bush, i put my feet down when i get out and push, kicking rhymes like a steel can, while i still can, used to be a kiwi kid now i'm a zealman!, take a taste- find Ziel at the bottom of the dust bin of history, truth is less than nothing if you don't say it to me, About the use of my art: You didn't ask, with no respect for the past it's no wonder you didn't last, a day spent on rhymes is enough to rewind, didn't get it that time? I'll sum it up in these lines; The man who called us bland didn't understand at all, caught out by night fall listening to pride's call, only you know what motivated your decision to ride, remember no mysticism when your prison is pride, i recoiled at the oiled smile of Rob Muldoon, now the ways we traipse'll make the paper fold soon, traded my wooden one in for a golden spoon, while the piper keeps playing the same old tune, i'll give anything a bash, 'cause i'm white trash, cut the D.D. here's the D.T. smash!, Alright Now - set a light the fires, Alright Now - rock until the night retires. Alright Now - now my mics warmed up, Alright Now - and my middle finger's formed up. Alright Now - all the hissers can stick it, we write the rules dipite fools we will kick it. ..Opening up doorways, your ways, there's more ways to do this, you never knew us so chew this betraying judas, sayings went never hitting on our wave-length, no brave strength when you're sitting on the same fence, shining the rhinestone back to the grindstone, knocking out rock songs it's time to box on, when i'm on i'm turning all the lights out, ...Alright Now! tumbling through the picture, moaners groan and grizzle at the first sign of drizzle, has a bit of wet ever hurt anyone yet, when it rains it pours, down in torrents, been seen on the screen, the scene has gone like Bruno Lawrence, incidents spark off another memory jog, i feel like Sam Neill, Eel the sleeping dog, thistle down throwers, the goatbeard growers, there's a time to slow down but it aint on a hoe-down, low down in a huddle trick reflections in a puddle, toying with tension clenching minds in a muddle, riddlers on the roof calling on the hour, hear me shout out from the crown of the tower... BAGGY TROUSERS ...I'm a baggy tribesman, imbibing tribal fluids, a highland islander rising wise as the druids?, it's true, in weird gear, my clear head clears, i'm cloaked in baggy clothes, rad catching mad stares, but who dares wins so let the baggy trousers swing, the baggy trouser King doin' the baggy trouser thing, bring a change, swing a chain and scoot, man it's hard to see my feet from my beaut pant suit, hanging bagging bagged baggies i'm brewing up a storm, i build a baggy refuge 'cause huge trousers aren't the norm, baggy trousers, baggy trousers, baggy trousers, You know why my pants hang so low, all the ladies over there, in winter wind the blood flows cold, bros fold into foes and rhymes grow mold Among the tongues of hunger lungs are freed and steeled, to reseed the field concealed by tarseal. well my only concern is burning verse into pictures, I'm yearning for a world of girls in baggy breeches, I could bag more but they don't make 'em sag any more those pants would look better next to your sweater on my floor, hey I'm just kidding lady there's no need to be unkind, it's time to aim my trunk into your main trunk line, I gained my mind just in time and realised i loved yr mind, cowards cower at the tower ours is as safe as houses, so kiss the hem of my baggy trousers baby, baggy trousers, baggy trousers, baggy trousers, You know why my pants hang so low, all the ladies over there ...I like my pants baggy, baggy, baggy, baggy, baggy, cuffs a draggin' with the crutch a saggin', wallowing in the autumn mist like puff the dragon, eyes wide staring, jeering what i'm wearing where i go, go westward 'Ho..' i feel like a circus sideshow, freak, sneak a peek, go practice what you preach, i'm out of reach like the juiciest Peach, each to his own to own his own set, of big baggy pants so big you won't forget, i'm the Earl hurling tracks in the tower, unearthing old sounds like a plougher, blow off the dust like a gusty nor'wester, scrub off the rust and you're left with the best'uh!', dressed for comfort baggy can breathe, no restrictions large construction of the weave, leave your baggy bad mouthing bite at home clown, 'cause wearing baggy trousers has it's ups and downs, up when i'm walking, down for the sure thing, my only setback is the knot on my drawstring! baggy trousers, baggy trousers, baggy trousers, You know why my pants hang so low, all the ladies over there, CANTERBURY DRAFTS i keep hearing voices, calling me onward, a few paces ahead on the path that i've often wandered, born Earth-child i hear first the call of the wild, when i sleep on the hill the storm warms to mild, styled a Zealman, in more ways than one, organic process starts, illumination's begun, congregations come gather to see the crew shine on, it's long overdue so let me get my whine whine on, rhyme on time all the time, i never stop, if the lines don't align then the structure's gonna drop, so the foreman's on site from foundation to the rafter, protractor in hand, master plan, CANTERBURY DRAFTER... - "..i picked up the paper put the paper to pen, for the times i rock the mic in front of women and men," - i remember a time when all four walls were oaken, wise spoken, a fine morning finally broken, AWOKEN, the spirit of old, lyrics we mold, pure endurance in the cold, smoldering embers spark smoke in the winter, scraping up splinters, blowing hard on the cinders, IN THE SOUTH, step out of the house, days dawn, refining my fingerprints since the day i was born, because, warnings never lessen when you listen to lessons, learn, to live everyday above and leave alone the concern, but turn unchill, i climb uphill to capture spillage, from this vantage point i could map out the whole village, for the Canterbury craftsman, drafting a rhyme plan, Zeal-Land, 'do what ever you feel man.'.... - "through the dark hours in dark towers we trust," - Dredging deadwood from the depths of a mire, if the dialogue's so tired why are you clogging the fire, crap pseudonymns are hymns to the death of what's admired, you can watch us placing limbs on the funeral pyre, I heard some voices which led me from my old stomping ground, gave me some choices: the first one was to stay around, and stagnate and rot in a sea of non-creation, those big headed headz are far too small for complication, the second: board a ship and sail abroad to start a'fresh but i have to accomplish the hardest part before i depart, I guess. so I chose the third: saddle up, ride out - or bust, far behind i left collisions within my cloud of dust. My trust lies in the clearing ahead, not what's left and right of me, something I've been fighting with for years tears out what's inside of me, why can't - you - see, the rot's in your [dead eyed] society, what blots your sight: A blighted copy's what you try to be, whilst spreading nothing more than mere mutterings of war, hip hop's an artform you do nothing for, it's your own situation of lack and loss you frown for, I'm standing outdoors getting drenched by the downpour. You're welcome not to feel us this suff's the real us, in fact - you not listening to us wuld be a real plus, it's time to log on, this is darktowerrepublic dot com, it's just him and me we don't pretend to be from where we're not from. - canterbury drafts reprise... It's just us - from beginning to end, we're not in this to fit in - or win friends. I've been scoring up plans: drafts written in cold air, and drawing a land: stripping the soul bare I scrawl my plans with a pen from all lands to the end, found my path descending then I began the mending, I sought half the truth in the sand and the glen, then found it all depends on whether you trans-to the-scend, [path/past] Some say the past is the past /so let it pass, some say the past; it forms your future /that's how long it lasts, some say the path is the way you should follow /and follow fast, I say the path is made as you walk: Canterbury Drafts! A line will take us hours maybe, yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, our stitching and unstitching has been nought, better go down upon your marrow bones, and scrub a kitchen pavement or break stones, like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather, for to articulate sweet sounds together, is to work harder than all these, and yet be thought an idler... w.b.yeats. the past foreshadows the future, but we invent ourselves. COUNTRY FUNKYINS Veering near the clearing, funkyins at the wheel but who's steering, overbearing drunkens clear off and stop swearing, gave some cans away so now we're short a few, a long line of crossed legs 'cause there's only one portaloo, I bought a new bottle of Dimp to stop the red bites, 'cause sandflies swarm in hordes towards the headlights, the blanket of night tightens once again, blinking lanterns of kerosene swaying, nearly naked girls twirling partners 'round the fires, try not to get caught in the vice grip or pliers, some advice at a price: avoid the rotten fruit, i cut off the dags and boot old hags down the chute: Now the gathering's gathered: we're not here for nothing, party people are puffing and the shoes be scuffing, so when the hoedown goes down to the swamplands, I want to see your hands clap and feel your feet stompin': now...The crowd's crowding 'round the railings, ailing weatherboards shudder from the bass bin trailings, let the wailing blast 'cause the tailing days are passed, and it's time to let your hair out and clear out the last, of the drawbacks, sore backs get left at the door, so jump in the jam and let's settle the score, yeah...The whole jam's jumping, heads are bumping, people lining up in single file kickin' shingle while, waiting for a chance to get in for the shearing shed shuffle, ...hold it off 'til, the rise of the heatwave, feet stay stuck to the dance floor: open the barn doors! up front an old bugger taps his shoe and sings, while at the back a crowd of rowdy loud mouths come in to ruin things, fists and fear: a breath of tension in the air, but not for long 'cause the country funk fellas are here, Country Funkyins, getting away with the country funkyins, Country Funkyins, forgetting the day with the country funk, Country Funkyins, getting away with the country funkyins, Country Funkyins, setting the way with the country funk, Country Funkyins, well..The funk's been shed and shared with the shearers, so bring your ears and beers and come and hear us, carving up the rug sluggishness creeps in, halving our dreams it seems for the sleep in, Yes Yes Y'all... Yes yes less rest guess I had a guest; Yes, sun's poring in like liquid through a drawing pin, hole in a tin wall, straw to skin, in all, forty winks was more like a hundred and forty blinks, My lungs are bare to the cold morning air, there's a mist on the hills and dew spills everywhere, I've got the chills so I love my jacket, trails of footprints and tyre tracks clad the paddocks, endless fields of emptiness and quiet, it'd be great to stay in the silence, ... instead we're heading back into the noise, when it comes to the country funk, yo, we're the boys! - Getting the praise, while i'm threading the maze, then i'm setting the blaze, 'til i'm red in the face, 'til the end of my days, i'll be treading the haze, then i'm stepping away, on the canterbury plains. - I'll be shearing the sheep, in the glare and the heat, and preparing to reap, while you're hearing the beat, I wear in the seat, and i'm steering the jeep, across the clearing 'n' creek, to catch a herring to eat. - I hear the treason is high, it's driven seasons awry, if you believe in the lie, you're given reasons to die, there's only trees in my eye, i won't believe in the lie, there's not a reason to die, because you're breathing alive. - All the trickin' and lies, only thickened my hide, while i quicken my stride, watch me kick it aside, like a stick on the tide, i got a ticket to ride, with a flicker of pride, i'll be pickin' my side. SHOOFLY there's many paths to the summit, we'll walk to where they wind-up, with the sun up above and the wind behind us... - Some say farewell then want a ring of the bell, here's a side you don't know well...go to hell!, 'cause this fish ain't never gonna be hooked, and this goose ain't never gonna be cooked, so go, go, go hang on someone else, i don't want no, no weight on my belt, i felt the pressure once before, no bags're gonna drag me down anymore, ...Now what lines the fineprint of the text, a pressing lesson to learn and memorise before the next vexed session, - wingless flies fill the sky - cheapshots can keepoff get cut off just brushed off, shoofly, i asked for bread, you brought sour dough, -expressions exposed in Tower flows so now you know, 'cause the so called rulers are Fools who deceive us, "Cheat Us!", in the end revenge just leaves us, - ...climbing into New Fields, jumping over old stiles, swarms of flies get thicker as we go miles, no sweepstake, we're not the ones to be raffled, for no-ones keepsake but i'm standing here baffled, you were trying to buy in?, it took a while to seep in, saw devil spawn uncloaked, you forgot to wear your sheepskin, the slope seems to steepen, the deep end deepens, demons creep in, hold my breath and leap in, thought you entered for the draw but you won't get a win, 'cause they knock on the door but we won't let 'em in, ...I picked up a RipItUp, then ripped it up, so many flies fell i nearly gagged from the smell of lies, you can make a dis but can you take a dis mister? dismissed a deaf dumb and blind mind, refined the vista, we know you screwed the scope of the view tunnel, tuned the wrong channel to the wrong end of the funnel, there's no sun underground thus moles are sightless, who'd dwell in a dingy realm of hell living lightless? You...pander to the stagnant, pamper the pompous, if the south is down we drag the magnet from the compass, another chronicle from the mouth takes wing, ...'cause it's a South Island thing! - No disguise, it's 'cause of the flies that i slap legs, Know this guys, it's only flies that wanna lap dregs, No disguise, it's 'cause of the flies that i slap legs, Know this guys, it's only flies that wanna lap dregs, ...Making it simple for the simple folk, we spelled it out for ya but you still didn't get the joke, it's not about where you come from, it's what's in here, if you're an arsehole you're a phucken arsehole anywhere, ...Get a long line of little losers, cross the list off, all the shitlicking kuzers and tossers got me pissed off, *in particular the King disser, and all the rest of you flossers can get the King Finger, bring the blarney i'll harness it to my own ends, shine the tarnish, send a message to your wack friends, mis-deeds just feed the fire still you never know, i may have to play that trap, ..."Here We Go!" ...People only take a look at the art on the easel, we learned the hard way stay clear of the weasels, like weevils... they wanna get a bit of the best, but a bit of the rest will never do for a pest, 'cause all scavengers are the same, never bending their knees but wanna piece of the fame, so you know who's up for the aerosol flame drown, a match to a can of raid 'cause flies slow me down... - stay away from me. starstruck 'n' naieve t'believe the best would get in sheep are in the fold, cold, with the wolf, that the shepherd led in. SONS OF THE SOUTH ...Saddled and ready to bust out of the stable, taking a step, breaking free from the label, in a land where men can't see past their beers, going over their heads, slipping straight through their ears, set to get away and travel to a land, where the wind whistles tunes and blows tumbleweed across the sand, hand to mouth, across valleys i shout, with the world in reach, now there's no way out... Walk On, Walk On, down the beaten track, southland sun beating down on my back, the strength of a step is set to move the earth, oh, if there's a Lord then remove this curse, on a burst of wind smell the savage storm, rolling thunder, blowing cold, dark clouds form, unworn, fill the flask from the river mouth, no man is stronger than a son of the south... *chorus part 1: "Show me a land where the moa roams free show me a man stronger than the foaming sea show me a hand that's quicker than the mouth look no further we're the sons of the south" I'll show you a land far beyond the threshold of cold, show you a man who won't fall or fail when the flesh threatens to fold, show you a hand spanning the width of the plains, a true son standing in the midst of the rains, ...Sitting on a rock at the top of the Port hills, a soft breeze blows and turns the blade of a windmill, sun in my eyes, west wind's on my cheek, backtracking my trail, heading up Kea creek, boots are wet so now it's hard to find me, 'cause i left my scent twelve hours behind me, wild walkways lead to windy roads, i'm taking the weight, bearing the heavy load... Summon the sun with a sun-dance at dawn, blow out the lamp, break camp in the morn', mudslinger roaming under southern skies, on the trail of the settlers swatting horseflies, wading the waters, walking on the plains, wandering the lowlands through fields of grain, hard times my rival, my trial is pain, but true sons never show the strain... repeat *chorus part 1: I'll show you a land where running water carves a path through the clay bed, Show you a man of strong spirit equipped with a will to stay ahead, Show you a hand which the sun's rays can't cut, These are my hills people, and this son's days aren't up Vultures swoop and circle where the body lies, flies buzz in the maudlin heat of the brooding sun's demise, dark mountains lie ahead, cliffs rise on either side, 'believe or die' the wind whispers along the path we ride, staying out of sight: Two travellers in the dark of night, even at the end of life there's more than a spark of fight, all bark and no bite: A heart of spite with a venomous tail, hunted and hounded by vicious enemies, surrounded on every trail, - wailing in the distance; the shadow of a doubt, dry mouth dry skin dry ground from the summer drought, Three days without water and no sight of a well, three days without food and i'm hungry as hell, three days of hiding, three days of pain, three days running on the canterbury plains, day in, day out, i'll forgive but i won't forget, day in, day out, i'll forgive but i won't forget, day in, day out, i'll forgive but i won't forget, ride on true sons of the south into the sunset... it's the southland sons, out on the run, running off at the mouth, sons of the south... SOUTHWARD BOUND Dumped, waiting amidst the surging traffic, on a grass verge below emerging graphic images, hard to keep a smile on my face, a thousand miles of highway from here to my place, try'na find an ounce of fun in the situation, bored and more than a little bit impatient, thumb out - and our message is clear, finally hitched a lift and at last we're out of there, barely, on our way nearer close than far, no choosing when i'm begging i'll take any kind of car; a bogan in a holden, thanks for the ride buddy, the shower of shingle sure made our shoes muddy. ...Agony drags, it's a struggle to wait, ridiculous thoughts, juggling rocks in a state, phlegm flecks in the dust flying from a spray of spit, there's nothing to do but pace or sit, or look to the distance, nature called so we pissed in, the grass, then pumped a fist for a horn blast, no name or map for the place that we're stuck in, catching my hat torn off in the truck wind, a tattered magazine on the road edge for reading, need to get where we're not yet but hope is receding, a dirty look gets a string of finger replies, my virtue of patience is in short supply. ...waiting in Mata Mata, it doesn't matter, big town joes become small town heroes, a journeyers hernia on my shoulders, as weight becomes hate pebbles become boulders, my belly is craving, my body worn out, took a look to the left; a whole lawnage of corn, how wonderful visions of sinking my teeth into a juicy corn on the cob turned to grief; i ran through the croppage, i could've cried out, every ear of corn in the field was dried out!... 'though the southern cross is out it's still not home to me, treading on a road i can no longer see... finally a spot to have a rest and a lie down, the frost sets in on our cold concrete highground, Devoid of trust, so we avoid the place in question 'cause i reckon they would've betrayed us in seconds, crept 'round a church, leapt and crawled a tall fence, each sound seeming pronounced in the silence, disection of directions so pursuit is haywire, then i'm beckoned by sleep 'cause my body is way tired, a bowling green bed, red sleeping bag, torn, and Jack Frost's blanket lying icy on the lawn, morning finds me frozen 'though my bag's all done-up, i awaken the Earl, we take the road before sun-up... Scraping dry saliva from the corners of my mouth, back to the highway thumb's out, heading South... ...I'm usually happy go lucky but i was grumpy go luck out, after three hours locked in the back of a truck, let me out!... Drove down through the desolation of the desert road, safe in the warm truck cab as it snowed, Old is the earth that we lie-on, cold is the dirt that we die-on, a moment of shadow reminds me of the dark ground, i can't help but think of how it feels down, South, where the farmer's shearing, South, where the winds are searing, South, where the boys are wearing baggy trousers... fears are falling now we're homeward hauling, i can hear the south winds of home a calling, sighs of relief, touching mainland soil, we're bound here, 'cause all roads lead South down here. THAT'S RIGHT - Part I There's nothing more relaxing than a nice bit of fat ol' country funk, dropping bombs on your doorstep like Mururoa Attol, thataway boys, much flavour like parmesan, never does any harm getting back on the farm again, doing things for fun and no other purpose, like skimming smooth stones across the river on the water surface, or giving one big finger to the driver of a sheep truck... y'gotta be quick.............to keep up, shouting out stuff sometimes my tongue is poisonous, don't take it too hard 'cause it's just the boys in us, another successful day of productive destruction, distracting the actual constructive production, my day starts at twelve like phil donaghue, after spilling down twelve i still wanna few, and a few more, once the flow starts, i like to down brews, 'fair go eel lay off the brown juice mate.', my tongue's waggin' draggin' a flagon down the hole, Jimmy Hand called me eel, i'm sick of getting alcoholed, conjure up beer, nearly lost on the piss, flip the cap off and wrap ya laughing gear 'round this, THAT'S RIGHT - part II once again/once again/once again, the boys are back in town and kickin' it, people tryna make the picture fit the frame and i'm sick of it, instate a Great Estate, know this Dark Tower doom, casting shadows in gloom until the last flower blooms, getting a bit sick of that tether aye?, tired of keeping one eye upon the weather aye?, bearing down under your cares now aye?, pull yourself together there now mate., - exhuming skeletons of talentless embellishment, in this establishment decomposing flows arose in a hellish scent, sick flavours i can taste of intellectual waste, invoke the local shout to bring about - our saving grace, in this graveward race our dreams lack support, last report i heard yr charging art - not docking sport, Fellas keep telling me Hip Hop's about originality, while sporting as many original bones as a rat made of gelatine, you can yell and scream and sound extreme, and say not a bean, you're just expelling steam, from a well of bad dreams, in time when you try and discard your mask, by and by, bye bye, you'll find reality's passed, and the facade you were wearing so bold as brass, has forged and moulded a real life cast. And your words'll run thin. As a bin of tins and glass jars; unwanted recyclables until the very Last bars. [drop out to country strumm guitar, with voice distorted or wah wahed or both, ...like it's in the distance on the wind blowing closer. Guitar only goes for these two bars.] ...Choose unwillingness and nothing's as right as rain, on the high plains don't die saying nothing compares to my pain, We're all the same, this exchange should make it plain, sneaks and liars, cheats for hire let all that weakness expire, kindling would start a fire, get set you better realise, I can see right through lies with my super pupil eel eyes, walk straight or see straight? You can't even talk straight so don't look at me mate, 'there's no cabbages growing on our cabbage trees mate.', banners mark the heart of the great estate's grandest art, the rhyme starts - when half the land is dark, stand apart to understand a clue to view right through, I do what I do, you decide what guides you, [CHORUS] Different day, the game's the same - i've seen it right up close, one day it's a toast,["Cheers!"] the next it's just dried up toast, I boast an eye for pretty stuff like a magpie on a flagpole, or a shag high on a crag, I've dragged my bagpipes like a ragdoll, across the fair plains to the battlefields of upland downs, I've endured a reign's ups and downs and now given up crowns, And saw the walls come tumbling down into the rumbling ground, and as the dust cleared I was left with what I had when I was unbound. Looking worse for wear aye?, A bit under the weather aye?, had too much beer aye?, Shouldn't mix your drinks together mate., suppose opinions oppose, only those people know, as sure as blood flows there'll be bros hangin' out 'til the last - pub's - closed, plentiful days in many ways the phase has passed now, the farther down you go the harder it is to ask for help, how do y'get up every morning feeling as has been, as grist, as wasted as burnt gasoline as mean as shit... draggin' this body through a mist of antagonists, almost flaggin' this, fading to a shade of haggard sadness, ..i intimately know that road, i've had this, looking in the jagged mirror seeing only badness, don't waste your time wallowing down in the dumps feeling fedup, todays the day, if you want to make it then get up, don't waste your time reading leaves at the bottom of a teacup, today's the day, if you want to say it then speak up.... well, my dad calls me a slacker, but in fact if the pay is right i'll do a hard days yakka, I'm too smart for my own good, i get on despite that, give me a nine to five and i'll give it right back, we're creating our own maps, perhaps it's due!, that's right, too right, we two do what we do, yeah, it's like that, standing opposite the fish 'n' chip shop, i bump my head when i listen to hip-hop, ... we don't care where, as long as it's here, as long as it's here, we don't care where, that's right! Save a place for me to shcmooze at the bar, and save that last glass, of booze 'cos I think i'll watch you trip on yer shoes in this last dance, at the last glance when i focused on goodness, bad screamed, how bad things get, depends how bad things seem, at the end of the day, make your peace at night, to sleep easy, face your fears, take your fate and say "That's right!". i don't have to be the way you want to make you feel good, i don't have to say the words you wanna hear to please your ear, i don't have to dress in a pressed suit or address crews just to impress you, i don't have to say 'Hiphop hiphop' to be true, you caught a bad spell, well that's too bad mate, and if you forget i'll have to set you lads straight, that's right, we know what we know, that's right, we go where we go, that's right, we show when we show, that's right, too right...we two do what we do, THE LAND OF THE LONG WHITE CLOUD fresh from the kingdom of the silverfern, where the air stays clear as the seasons turn, cliffs look across seas where the waves begin to roll, summer seems far in the winter cold, write a rhyme to pass the time in the city that shines, the southern cross marking if we stray from the line, we take the time like an old Macrocarpa, and sit, and wait as the shadows grow darker... We are the boys who sit in the tower, of dark old stone which stands on the brow, of the high hill where the sky surrounds, in the land of the long white cloud, - Looking from the ocean to the snowcapped mountains higher, (across the field of dark grains) from the bays around the bluff to the north capes of Kaitaia, (from the sands to the plains ) the length and breadth this land is ours, (with endeavour and strain ) and will always be the land of the long white cloud. - open my eyes, wake up with the birds, days are too hot to stay in the suburbs, sweltering pavements, daylight savings, late night ice cream cravings, we're making a way, away from the hilltops, eight o'clock and it's still hot, take a turn out of town, as it all slows down, and sit, and wait as the sun goes down... We are the boys who sit in the tower, of dark old stone which stands on the brow, of the high hill where the sky surrounds, in the land of the long-white-cloud, - Looking from the ocean to the snowcapped mountains higher, from the bays around the bluff to the north capes of Kaitaia, the length and breadth this land is ours, and will always be, the land of the long white cloud, - deep in the pacific, Aotearoa, keep New Zealand green/ green turns to greed as we befoul our shores, we sit in bars 'n' pubs drinking jars of drugs, which numb our senses to be sensible, (and comprehensible) a sentence served and spent by all. if time keeps running out/ why don't you stand up and shout, problems knot over what's been lost/ save what's not/ before the option's lost/ this classic asset will never auction off. buildings crawl taller blocking out the sun, but the grass is still green where the dark yarns are spun... [break] - Looking from the ocean to the snowcapped mountains higher, from the bays around the bluff to the north capes of Kaitaia, the length and breadth this land is ours, and will always be the land of the long white cloud. THE NEW OUTLOOK (feat. Dave Dobbyn) Styler stealer, peel another smile from the pioneers, run out, so why not nick some more ideas, my fears are striking on target, another wacker carving up the target market, [Mega 'mount of fame they thrive in it, see they write a rhyme in five minute, take a golden oldie put a jive in it, make a lotta dollar just to dive in it.] On the tightropes, no titans are clashing, high hopes are dashed while the witless cash in, there's no passion for writing songs they're just crass, and my tuner gives the trash a good thrashing, [Man these fat beats need to diet, they keep making trash you buy it, hear it, can't deny it, these fat beats need to diet.] otherwise fine, check the track listing, black listing all the crooks, otherwise just over the top, eel up 'n' wrote a vote to stoke the local quotas up, otherwise fine, gettin' vocal on the local push, a New Outlook, otherwise just over the top, you got... Blank cheques, flash wine and fly chicks, Gucci, Rolex and gold bricks, Matthew 16:26, kick a rhyme, to put a verse in the mix, tricks and curses, a line of hearses, "Hey Ladies,"...empty your purses, let's see how long this superficial pleasing works, 'cause you all 'aint nothin' but sheep to the freezing works, ...dirty rotten weather outside it's freezing cold, The outlook for thursday, your guess as good as mine, we'll be together, yeah together by design, sunshine... [These techniques need a bashing, few and the many are clashing, hi-hats and the cymbals are crashing, flash in the pan turned ashen.] We're...funny faces in a pop out book, find us here between the pages of a dark outlook, look around, all you see is grave robbing, simple stealing, took a hook from Dave Dobbyn, - the need to provoke is quickening, money culture they promote is sickening, a word in this turbulence to inform crowds, no matter how dark, sunshine'll scatter storm clouds... Sunshine... YOU BEAUTY ...i'm crying in the morning like blind willy tate, and spilling out rhymes at a silly rate, mate, give me a paua and i'll carve a souvenir, pride of the south like a crate of speight's beer, clogging sprockets and cogs, i drop a spanner in the works, superb perceptions with exceptions when i'm irksome, never strain to obtain a rhyme chain, same, and like M'cains we've done it again aye, ...i'll hunt you down for a hat like davy crockett, throw a flow isle style and pile it from the cockpit, don't knock it or the crockery'll fly, shanghai backfire dropping coconuts in the shy, jack of diamonds grinding dust under boots, son's are under skies astute with eyes shod on hot pursuit, abuse is mute, huh, just give me black gumboot tea, dark tower, way funky, you little beauty. ..you beauty, you beauty, you beauty, - slap her into first and take her slow up the hill, got the dogs on the back and the blowies on the kill, a hard task chewing grass down through Lewis pass, i saw ten dags dangling off a dead nag's arse, p a s s i ng pleasant pastures of amazing grazing cattle, stinging nettles no sweat, we ride the blazing saddle, balancing on the bonnet of a ute, ya beaut, DARK TOWER! We got enough juice ta boot, re-drew the maze mate, the true puzzle's not a haircut, don't guzzle the brew so i'll never get a beergut, more clued up than confused, losers queued up to booze hard, from now on i choose to cruise past or lose heart, got a bruised arse and a few scars a few yards past, the blues bar, bad tunes blast out from used cars, slippery like silk it's the eel that got away, i'm going off like milk on a hot day, we could slay wack mcs but that's not our duty, dark tower, way funky, you little beauty, you beauty, you beauty, you beauty, - Scouring the land and poring over old maps, redrawing old plans to restore water to cold taps, unrolling scrolls in the tower of Zeal Funk so stop guessing, - words shift in the wind and drift like top-dressing, emptying my sewer to help heal the drought, I dug a drain into the underground and washed the fakeness out, why don't you face the ineffable fact, you can't mute me, dark tower, way funky, you little beauty... ZEALMAN II Am i a man now? i know i'm far from that child, whose image i can see in the distance profiled, reviled eating meat so i quit it, not prepared to hunt or kill it, you continue to shit it, - a heart beats in the flesh of the beast, you say it's least 'n' keep it leashed, the pressure's increased, to be another, conformed, informed and smothered, 'shall i measure myself by the acts of my brothers?', discovered limits gained from living with pain, don't want to be estranged but would i rather?, also gain some knowledge from the father?, these paths are hard, after the facts, and your distractions caused reactions 'n' served to highlight your lacks, so you could say we're back except we never left, y'know i'm a Zealman, ...to the death! ...I was a stouthearted fellow riding destiny's wind, some would say a lost soul but i was more like a loose pin, went out searching for a beginning, came across a slope and my wheels started spinning, i played the blues in my childhood, lost my smile paying dues when i piled wood, and staying true was never, ever an issue, i'm not willing to please with a sneeze on a tissue, had a yearning, concerning, a rhyme and a beat, never cried retreat, never smiled at defeat, something i was born with and somehow always had, 'that country lad's, now entertaining crowds like his dad,' ...followed the stars to the shadowy plains, journey foretold, so all i can do now is hold the reins, i take it all in stride, a zealman pride inside, and when i'm gone...you'll still hear my drum beating on... |
LYRICS FROM:THE DARK WORLD
BARAD DUR what happens when a terrorist trained by your powers aims a couple of aeroplanes straight into your towers? You get all angry and you want retribution. Bush caused the problem then offers a solution. he says, "let's bomb those Arabs into the soil more" when all along all he wanted was an oil war. it's their way of keeping your sight impaired so you give them more might when you're frightened and scared. they say "go back to work - and keep on buying, and keep paying those taxes - and we'll keep lying" and you believe all the hype cos you've been grieving all night give those heathens a plight - just to even the fight there's a pattern of evil in all leaders agendas Let's flatten this weevil that eats up our tenders it's a fascist hangman's rope - disguised as corporate hype and it makes you feel all dope when you sport the latest Nike you should know by now it's chains bound around and poor mans neck you should be ashamed 'bout now - unless he found some more respect. do you wanna make the children cry or make the kids sing? it's time for us to link it's time for us to think it's time for us to stop believing in leaders who give us dust to drink we mustn't sink our trust into lustful cowards who just devour the world to sate a lust for power to just make us cower in fearful agreement else these terrible demons'll fill the air full of screaming-[again]- these defenders of the American way support terror - except when it's them in the fray and then it's okay to respond in kind go on to find a weaker nation then bomb them, why? you supplied their strength so why pretend you stood by the fence? let the end times commence, and let the world die as a consequence I apologise if I seem callous about your loss of lives but I espy colossal lies rising off your cries, I want to cry but it seems there's more at stake here else why with great care do they orchestrate fear saying you all just wait there cower in your town housing while we shower down mountains with millions to drown thousands now it's not about liberty or men that Christ has reached it's about waging war makes no sense if the price is peace. and again we see war, but it never ended before// they kept extending the floor behind the gentry door. so we stand and deplore, the men who planned it before// they just expanded the war another century more. and so again we see war, what was the ending before? just a closing of doors to hide the gentry flaws while we point and deplore, the appointed bombing in store// others anoint and encore another century of war our war will never end - we can afford to spend more and we've got more than plenty men so applaud and send more whilst making profits it's good business to take some losses and it's not the generals or bosses who shape and make the crosses will this war ever end - we can't afford to lend more we've got four and twenty men sent forward to end war with more war? this world will end before the losses generally the tossers who boss us take all the profits (bush sample - freedom} we're about as free as battery hens chimpanzees in trees freely scattered in pens we are trapped in systems - we are cysts in a stem we are mind controlled in binds and holds and blinded to them binds like: drink and drugs that help us sink under rugs to escape the problems or make us think like thugs, incite irrational stabbings riots smashings and grabbings. deranging our visions and keep us chained in our prisons binds like: fashion and fads dominating passion in ads, cash in hand we've been had young mums and teen dads binds like: debts and rents which make us stressed and tense, and keep us locked in routines like perfect clocking machines. binds like: American soaps which wind your head up in ropes, and milk your spirit of hopes which narrows all of our scopes. binds like: daily addictions creating ailing affliction, caffeine with a stick of nicotine does the trick. binds like: religions and schools set out to blunten the tools, brainwashing hundreds of fools to be happy dumb under rules. just a tentative question if i could send you to heaven would you still go even on September eleven? PART 3... what happens when your worst day lengthens to our worst night? 'cause you lack the foresight or you don't care who makes the first strike so you call up your role of aggressor and speak of freedom put on your concerned face and keep saying "We can beat 'em!" "We can defeat 'em if we use a force that is lethal, destroy this axis of evil that keeps attacking our people, but we need your support for this war," it's true, yes, "It's important you realise it could be you next." these veiled threats through death reveal the end game so you don't discern the truth they turn it to an us and them game: "Let's attack Saddam first in case he plans to use atomics," that's right why feed the world when you can choose to bomb it: "We're gonna teach a lesson to those that think that they'll surprise us, by bringing hell right up to any link of al-quaeda's." then you try to claim "This crime was unprovoked," protesting your innocence behind the gunsmoke directing your militants... [to kill again to kill their friends to kill men women and children, American business decisions mixed with politicians responsible for KILLINGS] and again we see war, but it never ended before// they kept extending the floor behind the gentry door. so we stand and deplore, the men who planned it before// they just expanded the war another century more. and so again we see war, what was the ending before? just a closing of doors to hide the gentry flaws while we point and deplore, the appointed bombing in store// others anoint and encore another century of war our war will never end - we can afford to spend more and we've got more than plenty men so applaud and send more whilst making profits it's good business to take some losses and it's not the generals or bosses who shape and make the crosses will this war ever end - we can't afford to lend more we've got four and twenty men sent forward to end war with more war? this world will end before the losses generally the tossers who boss us take all the profits ACROSS THE FIELDS you'd think we'd know better than to turn the other cheek when just the other week we turned the cover sheet and learned that government speak has no qualms about telling lies the truth runs deep and you could see unease shout in helen's eyes on the wrong camera angle to man handle john campbell who got the wrong side of clark - to spark off a long scandal in worst taste like rice dream, the first curse of an ice queen who's nice scheme of control frayed to chaos verse and spliced genes, "Now I've seen it all!", my inner voices crowed, doesn't make up for the fact there's no pay back for choices owed you'ld think they'ld make an effort to govern us better and know better than to cover up a cover up letter just another marionette under the masters thumb expendable members are always rendered half as dumb remember back door pay has more sway than a vote or say unless you bond together a million strong and fight your way but they want you to think there's too much efforts in doin' this cos you're a bunch of thumb sucking apathetic disillusionists you'd think they couldn't squash her cos she's granite to the core while you're sitting back to watch it - i can't stand it any more there's no time to plan it or panic when she roars why couldn't the rich be Thor and save the planet for the poor? instead of standing over - and jamming every door. my finger's pointing now- and blaming every whore whoever sold out their mum. today's the same on every shore, now I'm cold out and numb and it's raining to the core. i blame you even more, shame you for gaining more! it's like no matter who you vote for it's the same as it was before it's a fucking game - we're stuck in a game for ever more fields are grey from dismay i can't take it any more you can trick us into thinking it benefits the small guy but what you want is to be richer - just before we all die! but you cant fool me - cos im a child of the revolution. G.E's been around for years - in form of greed and exploitation, they're secretly scattering hybrid seed to the next location but you cant fool me anymore - I'm entitled to resolution. you'd think she seemed calm but she's molten to the core your conceit conceives harm plus you insult her even more and shove those bolts into the floor lock the revolving doors hock off every store this is not what evolving's for this is rot we're evolving towards we must stop your soul-less cause you can patrol the walls for ever but you can not control the spores can you tell me please what are these genes you've altered for? defeating disease and feeding the old and poor? this is a soldier's war we're here to settle the olden scores the end of our mother earth we will not be beholden for is it all for one or more for all? Heed this freedom call these fields will ignite wherever the seeds will fall it's quite see through to me they have no need for me and you except to feed their greed pursued - can you see it too you can't rule me - i'm not alone in this position G.E.'s been around for years in the form of good and evil Kings have always pulled the strings if the hordes are wooden people but you won't rule me anymore - no throne but my own volition it's a dangerous mix - corporate rollers, food and scientists, no denying this GE canola's used --- for frying chips, they say it's vege oil - hold up you annoying lying bitch it's processed light machine oil and you're destroying lives with this look at these men they take the world and carve it up we need to take these men and make a coffin large enough to reshape them as a grave send and then nail the casket shut 'cause they're mailing us to our fate's end without ever asking us profits for four CEO's - a split for big boys in quarter ways, irreversible outcomes, you just poisoned water-ways, now we all have more to pay - and poised for shorter days, this is war today, and your sons and daughters, son or daughter pays. we'll vote for coke and hope for folks to open up a store that supplies us with stuff to buy plus owns us even more why make it so hard to see - this world is dark enough i want to change the world - revolution - spark it up SHIT RADIO take a p.y.t with a some fake implants add a pinch of Enrique and make him dance get a black kid to keep it street on a rap bridge then feed in a cash drip to keep the captives captured Ok anybody real is now sick of barking dummies a constant shower of shit, thank god for parkas and gummies i'll show you a puppet show, turn on your radio. kids if you wanna truly suck - that's the way to go. "but she moves pretty good and I'm loving how she sings" yeah but who carved the wood and who's tugging on the strings. and who bank rolls this dolls spate of fake hits, the same wig who makes it big when she's shaking out her tits. you're getting played off time like chopstix in a kids xylophone club, I can see more holes than can poke with a hot stick into this styrofoam cup puppets are made to laugh at or an effigy of a thinker, and as far as I'm concerned these puppets only deserve the finger. give 'er a hand ladies and gentlemen I'm sorry I don't have a hand for you all I got is one finger. your manager says you gotta butter every guy turn knees to putty and clutter every mind mustard you cut it, boys sputter and die cos your stomach is nice and butt and thighs give butterflies deep down you know it's lies but you shut your puppet eyes and your father signs "why do you make me and your mumma cry?" oooh the udders is the gutter alive? why? cos every word you utter is so utterly dry. It not about the music more like the titties - and teenies did you know you can sing better in a string bikini and parents bring in your auto baby-sitter and weep "why" cos MTV is getting way shitter by the week "but it's cheap" and so is you daughters additional wardrobe ten years old and it looks likes she's auditioning for a porno parents wake up - boycott the lame nothing tripe oops i almost forgot - you are the same fucking type. your record company says you gotta swoon every soul airbrush every mole and be the honeymooning doll spoon feed media - autotune every 'ow' need global attention "that's our new goal, and you singed the contract now we're in control if we cant go top of the pops we'll try hip hop or rock 'n roll" it seems no one can touch you now up in this role but there's a toll on your life - cos you're a puppet on a pole HOLLAR BACK i wanna yell 'let me hear you say oop oop' at a show and have you hollar back 'oop oop' but i could never swallow that - such a hollow act, following that I'd wanna ask for my dollar back. you can put me on your blacklist - oop opp and I can put you on my wack list - oop oop but if we boil down opinion we find the fact is hiphop ain't an active practise without it's wackness I problly pissed you all off with my raps and me dissin' well you pissed me off more cos Yall cats never listen. split my heart in two it partly looks like you cut my heart into fours you'll find it's scarred like yours. although you'd rather front on real and keep that hidden well I've learned the start of healing is admitting. so I'm standing up here to admit i blurt some wrong, so don't irk me along or I'll work it into a song, I'm not perfect and i never claim to be its plain to see there's people ever same as me I've had some aimless sprees like clever Hamish Gee but it's mainly been whenever champagne was free apparently using natural accents is our latest gimmick, oh I'm sorry but i just hate a mimic wait a minute corporates love this kind of in-fighting 'n' biting, look at slim whiting they keep him writing. he's an industry sure bet - the bluffing shogun but no actual threat to nothing and no-one they must be laughing up on million dollar hill 'cause while you wanna rob 'n' kill they fill pillows with dollar bills companies making money off your favourite rappers dying and using their corpses as corporate advertising and you keep buying and help perpetuate the myth boasting's the greatest gift and hate's the way to live and the only weight to lift is yo bitch and metal handbrake in yo ride in yo pitch of ghetto landscapes i wanna yell 'let me hear you say Ho!" at a show and have you hollar back 'Ho Ho" but i could never swallow that - such a hollow act, following that I'd wanna ask for my dollar back. you can put me on your blacklist - oop opp and I can put you on my wack list - oop oop but if we boil down opinion we find the fact is hiphop ain't an active practise without it's actors get your uniform of checked clothes dress code or standard and use correct coded language yes bro you're branded that culture you loved for offering solutions to your plight in life's become a co-opted institution but it's so underground it supports us and slaughters monsters doubt it hiphop has become the biggest corporate sponsor look at all these rap stars count the nike tops bro i couldn't give a shit if you like me or not you're like an unsightly blot psyche blocked but if i disrespect hiphop i might be shot shouting out against establishment - hiphop is the lung against corporate structured commercial ventures - hiphop is the tongue standing up against dictatorship - hiphop is the fist the lone voice fighting for freedom from the oppressors constant diss, so take these facts and weigh them with what hiphop has become hiphop is the establishment where i'm standing from hand me one microphone and I'll launch the freedom fight ill be more hiphop than any clone - just watch this seed ignite right now the oppressor is hiphops evil twin but your third eye is blind to that cos hes lodged beneath your skin take this rhyme and wake up, hear the apple pip drop IM more hiphop than you'll ever be - cos I'm anti hiphop. I took a bribe and a shit job for like a dollar a day to try and drive the hiphop white collar away it's clearly all turned wack - i gotta say, if you hear me yall hollar back - hollar away! i wanna yell 'any hiphop heads up in here?!" at a show and have you hollar back 'hell yeah!" but i could never swallow that - such a hollow act, following that I'd wanna ask for my dollar back. i wanna yell 'let me hear you say oop oop' at a show and have you hollar back 'oop oop' but i could never swallow that - such a hollow act, following that I'd wanna ask for my dollar back. i wanna yell 'let me hear you say Ho!" at a show and have you hollar back 'Ho Ho" but i could never swallow that - such a hollow act, following that I'd wanna ask for my dollar back. you can put me on your blacklist - oop opp and I can put you on my wack list - oop oop but if we boil down opinion we find the fact is hiphop ain't an active practise without it's wackness |
