suture
INV161
Invisible Records

Buy it here

Lyrics © Jared Louche
Music: More, Louche, Lenardo, Frank

Suture contains songs from 10 Ton Pressure, an EP released in 1990 which is out of print. Lyrics listed pertain to 10 Ton Pressure.

Thanks to DJ Maharaja for the scan.

 

10 TON PRESSURE TRACKLIST:

filament

suture

i still bleed

blunt force trauma

black radio [in the neon blur]

suture

 

SUTURE TRACKLIST:

Chemical Halo [Bruised Regeneration]

21st Century

Chemical Halo [Drag-Strip Download]

Codiene, Glue and You

Filament

I Still Bleed

Blunt Force Trauma    

Black Radio (In the Neon Blur) [Suture]

Electric Molecular [KMFDM Death Before Taxes Mix]    

Electric Molecular [KMFDM Instrumental No Taxes Mix]    

Electric Molecular [Black Metal Box Malignant Mix]    

Exile on Mainline [Extended Dance Hall Mix]    

Exile on Mainline [Radio Edit]    

Jesus Christ Porno Star [Lick-A-Licious Mix] [Album Version]    

Static Haze (Lost Suture)

Lyrics

filament

This is one of the first songs we wrote that was finally starting to close in on the kind of sound we wanted to put across. It was dense, had programming in close-weave layers, sampled looped guitars, lyrics that exposed the radiant abyss of our world stretched out under a coma of stars. I’m not particularly interested in bastardising every song to a political end, but occasionally the frustration of the way we wantonly ravage the earth comes out.

I also used “Blow A Fuse” which is an ancient phrase that I hadn’t used since I was a teen to describe being out of my head: “I was really fuse-blown at the Terminal Bar last night, could hardly stand up”. After resurrecting it here it’s wormed its way back into my lexicon, appearing all the time in my signatures.

We gave birth to Television (Zeus),
emerging from our brow (Zenith).
Blurred the sky with radar dishes,
choking up the airwaves.
Its coming down.

Our kiss gives blisters,
the Midas touch
Medusa in smokestacks.
Turn to tarmac, highway ribbons,
factory stench,
smoke belching.
Cover up the air in a cloak of black.

Blow a fuse in/and overload.
We gave birth to one thousand suns above our heads.
We gave birth to fire in the sky.

A stitch in time
now hypodermic.
Beaches drowning in medical waste:
waves of cotton, hair balls,
blood clots, oil drums bursting
the Exxon backwash leaves a bad taste.

Power failure.
Socket burnout (such a burnout).
Ozone turned to aerosol.
Water and lead
and iodine (a toast)
and apathy will dig a grave for us all.
(under a television sky)

i still bleed

Legs bent and twisted up underneath me,
limbs like wood my blood flows like pitch.
My body shudders and curls against your jaw,
blackened and burned in need
of a stitch
or two.
You sewed me up and pulled me apart
You sewed me up and pulled me to bits
Your disease comes sinking into me
its teeth all chiselled mercilessly,
hammering my nerves
until I'm split and severed,
but somehow you don't see...

I still bleed.
I hear the razor call and I bleed.
Every time we touch,
I still bleed.

Down the long grinding night
a cigarette burns a slow hole into my split lip.
My eyes burn out ‘cause I see too much.
I touch your mouth, cold skin, your hips.
Kiss the wound where I still bleed.
I still bleed.

Lying just South of your Mouth,
acid burns in every kiss.
Loaded breach and swallowed barrel.
I never thought it might come to this.
Touch. Bleed. You touch me, I bleed.
Try to hold myself shut, together,
stapled,
sutured,
but every time we touch
then I still bleed.
I still bleed.
(I’ll make you do it too)

blunt force trauma

This is for all the broken ones. You know who you are.

Someone actually asked me if I liked gang raping little boys. I was momentarily stunned, and then, instead of simply walking away or slugging him, I said “hell no, I like my boys all grown up and mouthy, like you” which shut him right up. Bitch.

=I hate a man like you so much I’m gonna get your head down in the mud and trample it. I’m gonna make you wish you’d never been born=

Hunt them out.
Drag them into the streets.
Humiliate them.
Baseball bat beats.
Spinning out of control
in the city's belly.
Running wild
throughout the veins
of the night,
mangled, ripped clothing.
"Open wide!"
Nothing you can do.
Abduction;
"He's so cute!"
Daddy's little boy.
Getting all amped up
to rip this toy...in two.
Ugly joy ride!
On your hips!
Gang rape!

Revving engines
Overheating.
Boiling up,
exposed and bleeding.
Little boy tossed from fist to fist.
Don't make a sound!
Watch him squirm and twist.
Gasoline.
Sweat gleams.
Screams.
They don't care.
(Spinning out of control.
Drunk on the violence.)

Ugly joy ride!
Gang rape!

To the outside of town,
force his face down.
Watch the scene,
distorted focus,
ugly and mean.
going to tear him up.

Amped up for a nasty joy ride
spinning out of control.
going on an ugly joy ride.
Joy ride.
Spinning wheels,
clenched teeth,
split lip,
"bad trip!"
Gang raped.
Bang Bang!
He's so cute,
daddy's little angel.
He's so cute,
daddy's little angel,
like a sponge
to soak up all the fluid
breaking off inside.

black radio (in the neon blur)

Unquestionably my fave part of this joint is the big band sounding break in it that is in fact from a Madonna song. It seemed so perfectly out of character for a Machine Rock band to use a sample like that and I’ve always revelled in the unexpected . We wrote a song called “Gasmask” for the Nine Inch Nails tour that had a really fucked up, huge and heavily distorted Big Band break in it that was blasting horns and charged tempo, just right for the “What The Fuck Is Wrong With These Guys” Department and a total shock in the middle of the song, straight out of left field. I really dig Big Band and I’ve always wanted to incorporate a horn section to the live band, the raw power they’d bring to the songs would be devastating, punchy and uncompromising, not a joke, just a kick in the teeth. Lyrically, this is the first time I shot text off to/for and inspired by the Blackout Tribe, the wireheads, the Bosozoku speed tribes and jakplugz

let's go current jumping,
decode the matrix keys,
plug in a virus.
spreading out in the system
there's a hole in the network
there's blackout on the wire.
electricity crackling in electric city.

black radio in the neon blur.
velocity curve
don't get caught in the power surge
don't get caught
blackout boys,
don't get trapped
you live wires,
don't get trapped or burned out
on bad current, velocity backlash

what's in the air tonight?
a retrovirus in the system
coming up on your blind side
360 degree scan, watch your back
don't get trapped in a lock down.

electricity drunken,
hardwired for down link in the Silent Underground.
accelerating through cool gray static
picking up on black box transmissions.

velocity curve
don't get caught in the power surge
don't get caught
all you blackout boys
don't get trapped
you live wires
don't get trapped
the Tribe is in the system tonight,
a retrovirus coming up on your blind side
360 degree scan, watch your back!
future shock!
don't get trapped in the past!

21st century

This is such a frustrating song. It came together while we were in the studio after the KMFDM tour. We were working on some remixes of ‘Chemical Halo’, twisting their framework with Critter and Howie. I’d wanted to re-release the 10 Ton Pressure ep because there were only 1000 copies of it pressed originally, it was long sold out. It seemed to me that, even with the ep and the remixes, we were missing something essential, and a new song, a smell of what was coming on the next disc was what the fans deserved. The song’s one that Geno unleashed, something he’d been churning, and it felt so right at the time. We worked on it forever, but I don’t feel that we were ever able to get it to come correct. It fumbles half-formed and trembling, exposed in the light too soon, its leathery wings still wet. We could’ve done better justice to his song and every time I listen to it I want to drag it back into the studio and fix it, rewire it. That’s why it’s called “rough sex demo”. I do love his guitar playing on it though.

Splattered ‘cross the signalled sky
searching for future vision,
covering up one eye.
Flip the switch on this retro brain-fry.
Strap yourself in for the ride of your lifetime.

We'll plug you into our machine,
hooked up on Psychodrene.
Impact in the 21st century,
yeah, 21.
LED's are burning
the edge is near,
sentenced to life without parole in the Technosphere.
Bury your past,
rocket on out of here,
we're going to blow our minds out in the stratosphere.
We'll plug you into our machine,
hooked up on Psychodrene.
Impact in the 21st century