Coin

by New War

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $15 AUD  or more

     

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    12" vinyl in deluxe gold foil printed cover.
    3mm spine and lyric printed insert.
    limited edition of 300.
    Black Vinyl

    Includes unlimited streaming of Coin via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 10 days
    edition of 300  6 remaining

      $35 AUD or more 

     

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Includes unlimited streaming of Coin via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 7 days

      $15 AUD or more 

     

1.
2.
3.
4.
03:51
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.

about

You won’t hear many modern groups that match NEW WAR’s Kitchen Sink rage, Vorticist sneer & Delphian vision. Imagine an American gasping for life with three Australians pushing their instruments within an inch of theirs. All stood on the edge of a crag, finishing each other’s jokes as they start to slip.

Picture a fever blur of Rhythm & Detonation (R & D), open-
bordered punk, fevered and lurching dub, pop as sharp as
Northern 80/90s & as loose as Hansa-era Iggy. They’ve been
described by The Music as like ‘the Birthday Party in the 25th
century’ & by Tiny Mix Tapes as ‘Lynchian mysticism...
burning in This Heat’s tape machine’ but as Crawlspace wrote
‘comparisons only tell a partial story... NEW WAR have a
talent for cohesive transformation, for repurposing the past for
the now... They know what they want to do.’ So you won’t
hear some sort of wet genre pastiche, the blood in this group
is their own & it pumps ferociously.

credits

released September 21, 2018

by NEW WAR:
Melissa Lock - Bass
Steve Masterson - Drums & Drum Machine
Jesse Shepherd - Keyboards, Piano & Synthesiser Chris P - Vocals
Recorded & Mixed by Lachlan Wooden (Total Control Henge Beat, Eddy Current Suppression Ring Primary Colours) at Sing Sing Studios, Melbourne (Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds Murder Ballads & Nocturama; Go-Betweens Bright Yellow, Bright Orange). Mastered by Simon Polinski (The Church, Anita Carter, Yma Sumac, the Triffids)
Artwork by Luke Fraser/Ahr+

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

it records Melbourne, Australia

Underground music out of Melbourne, Australia

contact / help

Contact it records

Streaming and
Download help

Shipping and returns

Redeem code

Track Name: Get in the Boot
GET IN THE BOOT
Yeh C’mon get in the boot, we’re gonna take a ride around
Tableheads slide down sceptres & their necks slump to the ground
Who says there will be pie, snail brioche & caviar
Voltron with Julie & blast the static through the sound

O Yeh - C-C-C’mon

Didja think query Garbo why looks ain’t frankincense & myrhh
Why ruby kicks ain’t amethyst & a gurgle ain’t a purr
I guess it no occur, silent silence hard to hear
If shoes too small what cannot fit well cannot fear

Oh Bleh - C-C-C’mon

Well I’m a funky autonaut, I rock you through the cosmoroute
All hail Guerrillas up in the mist to strike the root
Gotta get a hackle up, pull a Punch n’ Judy show
Drop the bomb like Ravachol & getaway slick like Bonnot

Oh yeh - C-C-C’mon
Track Name: Bluebeard FLA
BLUEBEARD FLA -(GGZ)

Hey now man
Pull Up
Lemme see yr ID
Right Now
Gave me a reason
To Cruise
Lemme see yr hand
Held High

Hey now kid
Be Still
Gimme a skittle
Purple
Gave me a Reason
I guess
Bow before the throne
Glory

Now you know who’s the boss

Hey now baby
G’goo
Lemme see yr rattle
Fat cheeks
Gave me a reason
Supreme
Go on kiss the Ring
Blue death

Now you know who’s a god
Track Name: Banana Spilt Wolves
BANANA SPLIT WOLVES

Well oh my god, what the fuck
What pricks won’t do for a buck
A shaft again, what shit luck
Eyes glued to screen while the truck backed up
Best china’s gone, the doilies too
Fine Persian rugs pulled from under you
It’s alright, a wish come true
Wanted one cookie & you well got two

So go on dip ‘em in that curdled cream again
Skimmed the best & brightest of yr friends
Guess we shoulda seen that chestnut descend
How ‘bout a bow for all the cracked eggs & hens

Oh those gods, what tired ruck
Mass won’t sit tight, they weave & cluck
I guess it’s grasped, guess too uncool
Who knew these ears sprouted wool
Spitting dust & Belgian rubber
Mothbit silk & rotting butter
It’s ok, no one really cares
Lost shirts for Chanel underwear

Here froths the forged dream again
Making kicks for all yr pickled friends
Guess we shoulda seen that echelon descend
Banana Split Wolves & sugared monocle lens

O dear god, the doc’s a duck
A bill so vast, macro dumbstruck
No one can pay, the ink’s leaked through
Standard & Poor’s the motto too
Everyone bond, we’re rated junk
Vultures spit-swap that carrion funk
We’re marked D & I love you
Two big dummies lost all we knew

So here reign the Truncates again
Bludgeoning all those loose threads to mend
I guess we shoulda seen the scalpel descend
Snipping the net we’re too chilled to defend
Track Name: The Wig
THE WIG

So game the powder & the wig
Bailiff’s trot & Judge’s jig
Gavel & its own sake - bang rot
Now bowlegs struts on down the street
& with every head he meets
Show the hand of a true God-law laid down
Hey hey hey - ah-ooooo

Un- or conscious, no one cares
The means are perfectly barbed snares
To hunt endgame & bone-pudding results
the Spectacle’s metastasised
Its gaze quick-tumours over eyes
Trickled wealth & a full mouth of indenture
Hey hey hey - ah-ooooo

Yeah here comes the precipice
Denial & jokes flow as promised
Grab a lungful, have a scoff, the descent’s long
Suck the marrow - cake the corpse
Slice the breast & pop the corks
Ridicule & isolate, job well done
Hey hey hey - ah-ooooo

It’s so hard - to buy it back
You want the world - the world’s cracked
& now you’ll never - get yr money back
Oh no you’ll never get yr money back
Woo-ooo
Track Name: It's Real Wide
IT’S REAL WIDE

Did I for one squint recognise
The bastard coin that split my spirit clean
Where Frensham & Longmuir jut
Utes flame up & Necked Chook spits my name
Liked Tehran cranes’ gut-dust sucked dry
Swinging feet refrain away from claiming:

It’s a real wide world
& I feel stretched wide in the real wide world

The scent of violence rubs oil through the air
The Lynx Boyz on the trains make perfume in the Glare
I heave in the Dank Cloud, it rends my body low
Descending from the Cut, where Mole Calls flint & glow

It’s a real wide world
& I feel so dumb in the real wide world

Messenger on the make, now why’s that movement grass
Messenger on the take & now not even That
I hang quite like a chad, Scalia from my eyes
Jackie O mitts on my skull with my pupils on the prize

It’s a real wide world

Now c’mon honey - you know the world’s so wide
If the world’s so wide, then there’s space to fall
If there’s space to fall, then there’s ground to land
If you land on ground, then there’s ground to claim
If you stake that claim, then the ground gives way
If the ground gives way, then things get weird
If things get weird, then the world gets wide

It’s a real wide world

And feeling isn’t helping is it now
Track Name: The Work Song
THE WORK SONG

Well I sang the 20th century - it did not serve me well
Still stood behind a counter - embarrassed books for sale
I’ll forgive you my opinions - they have not done much good
My deed leaves dry desire, damp calls & unburnt wood

You don’t have to answer me, I know what silence means
A hole half full of truths unsaid, a spoiled future’s dreams

I walk to work on Tuesdays, six questions in my head
Now six & one forgotten, eight & half hours end
Consensus is forever false & cloaks an interest bald
Beta-body intentioned & earmarked for a Wald

You don’t have to answer me, I know what silence means
A whole half full of joys unsaid, a past splitting its seams

There’s cold damp ground wet with the stick of birth & shattered time
Of amniotic fever rush, cells bursting from their brine
I cry out for my father, through static on the line
I cry out for beloved sons, held fast by arms entwined

Oblivion is easy & easier is blame
& easier to rise than bread is hate’s head rubbed in shame
Track Name: The Pyre Song
THE PYRE SONG

I’d been dying - my whole life
With a Thrall wig - welded tight
I’d been hanging on two hooks marked alpha/beta fool
I’d been swinging on a stick, scratched ‘to be cruel’

& ‘who do you think you are’

Now it’s one in the morning & my time is come
Gonna crucify you before the sun comes up
Now it’s one in the morning & my time is come
Rising from the pyre, brush the ashes off

Somehow I’d felt bad before
Sat outside the two-faced door
A bridesmaid bored shitless & more
With no coin to nudge Chauron’s oar

(says) ‘who do you think you are’

Now it’s one in the morning & my time is come
Gonna crucify you before the sun comes up
Now it’s one in the morning & my time is come
Rising from the pyre, brush the ashes off

Now I’ve been alive since break of day
My will runs strong on Diamond Quay
With each silver hour stacked
In a golden cord cinched tight
All the oil of the world
Spat back in bedrock bright

(with) ‘who do you think you are’

Now it’s one in the morning & my time is come
Gonna crucify you before the sun comes up
Now it’s one in the morning & my time is come
Rising from the pyre, brush the ashes off
Track Name: The Breadline Song
THE BREADLINE SONG

Who don’t even care what the wise man said
Buckets on the door jambs, piss streaks down the spread
Comedy’s in headlights, then deer heads
Laugh right off the bluff, stick the organs in the shed

Here comes the deadline, deadline, son
Here comes the breadline song
So fall away boys, take it away boys
So fall away boys, heave away boys

Now I wanna tell you ‘bout a mensch
Frenzied for feeling
Frenzied for spirit
Frenzied for meaning
Holds its hand in claw, right side winched tight
Eyes wild & split, vision seeping white
Reaches out for the floor, where life unfurls its wings
& falls through the flaps, with the wind whistling

Here comes the Breadline Song

& now It’s canonised: the moment you dobbed in
Y’lick the reward, as it becomes heaven
In the phantom crap, each drawer is true
The Wardrobe revealed as a trap door through
Dante’s leaking pen, ticking what to sell
Tired Manuscripts, where all must knell

Here comes the Breadline Song

Now you know goddamn well
For whom bells toll bright
For whom peals send mad
For whom cliches midnight
In the hour of need, fathomless sacks lined
In the screeching lede, plot’s whisked from sight
Moral’s buried now, never again to rise
Blighted yeast specks lord over pigeon fights

Here comes the Breadline Song

If you like Coin, you may also like: