Bomb the Music Industry!

Bomb the Music Industry - DOES YOUR FACE HURT? NO? 'CAUSE IT'S KILLING ME!

do it yourself socialism and fuck (with) the riaa. I think I like this "band". Check out their website for more of their manifesto.

Musically the song sounds like Lars Frederickson and Travis Morrison started a angular punk-ska band in 1998. fucking. sweet.

This collective has fairly lofty goals, and I think a lot of people would like to be a part of it. A lot of people would rather do away with it. This song takes Say Anything's Admit It!!! one step further and executes it as it was meant to be - this song is for all the people who don't exactly fit in anywhere in the musical scene spectrum. It is the punk spirit in every sense that has really been lost for a long fucking time. I feel like there is hope. I feel energized. This song does it.

It's an excellent home demo recording that captures the DIY spirit with its dichotomy of loose/tight audio sensation.

Lyrics included below so you can make sense of the vocals, which unfortunately get lost in mix at times.


Take a look at your haircut. You're killing me.
Take a look at your glasses. You're killing me.
Placement of the piercings. You're killing me.
Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.
Take a look at your ripped jeans. You're killing me.
Take a look at your Converse. You're killing me.
Get a shirt that fits you. You're killing me.
Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.

US: Someone the other day was telling me about marketing and how it is so important for a band to sell a t-shirt. I told him that the money goes right back into the same thing and now we're just a breeding ground for more and more consumers. And sellout, shmellout, it's not about that. But I didn't have a problem when I had no cash. Now we perpetuate this need to sell x units every night and if we don't meet our quota, man, we're gonna get into another fight.

THEM: Williamsburg has got the lights turned low and a moron with a laptop is calling this poetry. A singer with a thrift amp brags "Vintage Circuitry". I saw him on the cover of Bop or Seventeen crooning "I'm so lonely/Life is empty/Where's my coke and fucking money?" Tonight at the bar I got a good look at the enemy. He said "My job's looking good and someone else can write the songs for me."

Soon we'll be in the clear
When we get out of here
Where style is function
And our egos make us fight.
For now we'll live in fear.
We're not sexy enough for this atmosphere.
Someone blow it up tonight.
Please blow it up tonight.

Now we're cloning sheep.
Writing garbage in their diaries.
Reading their AP. Watching Fuse TV.
Kill it, c'est la vie.
Fashion show = your scene.
Bomb the industry.
Then run away or watch the blast.
I'm getting out, man, kiss my ass.
I'm going nowhere, nowhere fast.
I'm going nowhere nowhere nowhere.