Cripple Bastards / Regurgitate 7″

Cripple Bastards / Regurgitate Split Cover

release date:

2002

LINE-UP:

Giulio the Bastard – vocals
Fulvio Hatebox – guitar
Schintu the Wretched – bass
Al Mazzotti – drums

Label: E.U.91 Serbian League

The EP saw the light someday in 2002 after extreme delays due to countless personal problems. With this release, E.U.’91 Produzioni changed into E.U.’91 SerbianLeague. 1000 copies pressed, 200 in multi-colored wax. Both sides rip asses, CB deliver one of their most Grind-oriented works – 5 tracks of corrosive fast ferocity (all of them except 1 have been later re-recorded on the “Desperately insensitive” album); our first release ever with Al Mazzotti on drums and the only studio work with legendary Fulvio Hatebox on guitar. This was recorded by ourselves at Autopsia’s studio/rehearsal room in Piacenza where Al Mazzotti used to learn some sound engineer skills. Regurgitate are just what you expect: 10 tracks of savagely brutal Grind terrorism. To top up this clash of the titans there’s some of the most fucked up CB lyrics ever talking of prostitution, psychosomatic decay and serbian pride vs the yankee’s imperialistic policy: this was a sorta bringing to the extremes the style created by “Misantropo a senso unico” integrating it with today’s “dont give a fuck” Bastards’ way of life.

> Released in 2002, E.U. 017, 1000 copies pressed, 200 on multi-colored “splatter” wax.
> Comes with a 2 sided cover jacket w/ lyrics inside, no inserts.
> Recorded in spring 2000 at “Autopsia” studios, sound engineer: Al Mazzotti.

TRACKLIST:

Inside out

X-Factors of infidelity

When immunities fall

A NEW ISSUE IN THE “NEVER MENTIONED” SERIES
(only few statements from this is what GTB actually sings)
Drop by drop you used to sedate me – from a distance
an unconsciously perfect method
those were days when I was dying w/o leaving any trace
in the hands of a WasteDisposalFirm authorized to format my sharpeness..
all the requirements to carry out the biopsy of my shroud
..I had an identity in my tenacity, in holding on to my feelings
in remembering the oldest flashes of light – discussions, glances
and from then on I became your blackboard
let’s write “FUCKED” on it
go on, hang it in the closet of a past to be crushed.
Someone else shared an experience of inflicted mutilation
but passively.. and in a few moments.
ATTACKING IMMUNITIES
TO SHATTER THE FOUNDATIONS:
THE IMPROVISED TACTICS OF THOSE
WHO LIVE ON OTHER PEOPLE’S MOODS
DANCING AN ETERNAL TANGO ON THE HEART
–> INSTEAD OF HEELS, KITCHEN KNIVES.
Drop by drop staring at the density mixing with the water
it’s the serum that puts every intention of reaction up against the wall.
Let me share in my defeat, humiliate me with details
remind me that at 30 some people have aged better than me
modernize my paranoia – glue me to a mobile phone
where your signs of disheartenment always come too late
deprive me of all grace, hang me to the noose of apathy and inertia
redeem this talent that in your barreness you were never able to cultivate.
It’s the sadism of those who live to take revenge on the others
of shocks too radical to be faced up to backwards.
YOU ARE IN A WAITING ROOM LEADING TO A GHOST PLATFORM.
ME – THE ONLY PASSENGER, RESIGNED TO WAITING IN VAIN.
A crooked tree, crippled by the lightnings of pain….
you wish – on the edge of drying out.
WAR, drop by drop back in the bottle
war of ethics, of eternally persecuted people, war of nerves
war to gain continuity, to regain self-esteem
not to live in tiredness.
It’s a rustle of dry bones shaken by the desert wind
or maybe just an old skin abandoned somewhere
and that I won’t look for.
WAR, feeding on war
letting you know that you can’t touch this land
that every invasion implies a martyrdrom of your fellow men
necessary war, war against habits
not to live in tiredness.
No money and no politics, no ideals but one goal
the extasy of contentment, the love of nuisances
pointing everything against everyone…
YOU TRIED TO AFFLICT ME – NOW LEARN HOW TO HIDE.