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FAR IS HERE

by This is not a Brothel

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    >> FAR IS HERE - 29 settembre 2017 - I MAKE RECORDS.

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1.
What do you feel? Nothing for me What do you see? Everything but me So, what do you feel, then? My words slip down the stairs And while you stand and see them roll Like a child who can not walk Your eyes turn around and See everything but me I’m asshole among assholes And your lies my just response What’s your being? I want it now I will suffer, no matter how What’s your being? I’ll hate today You will suffer, you can’t even say What’s your being? I want it now You will suffer, no matter how What’s your being? I want today My black Madonna, to death I will hate What’s your being? I will never have You will suffer, you can’t even say
2.
There ain’t no way of running away from who you are Feelin’ outlying and mortified for who you are Crying around you, shoutin’ louder no one will mind Son of an odd time, shot between your eyes, truth cries around Do not disturb the driver as years pass by Here comes the sun between your eyes It’s like a shot As that old bag on my shoulders Weighs more and more Until your knees do not bend with eyes Turned to the sun Do not talk to the driver You’re gagged and bound Here comes the sun between your eyes It’s like a flood "You can’t beat death but 
 You can beat death in life, sometimes you are marvelous 
 The gods wait to delight 
in you" * Delight in you
3.
Far is here 04:08
I tried hard, very hard to be what they want me to be Another kind of dude Breathe and look as you want me to Brand new friends, brand new clothes Changin all that you want me to Ain’t it safer so? Hold my hand and I’m smilin’ too We passed in front of a mirror I see two lads, they’re holding hands One is surely you I’m a different kind of dude It is clear that you’re smilin’ To another one To some kind of a double And nothing more If we were made from some better stuff And we were ourselves Another life, in another place so far Wouldn’t be that safe? But far is here, far is now Far is here, far is now Far is now
4.
Head high 05:29
Wake up in the morning, early again today Someone’s waiting outside, you wish it were a girl A friend, a dog, well it’s a chair though A chair, a wrench or just a monitor You wish it were a girl Well it’s just schedule though You wish it were a friend It’s concentration camp "Working, working (I do) prefer the sound of the sea" * "And certainly in three places I would never be: At work, in jail or in a ward ‘cause Life breaks everyone, but we don’t give a fuck" ** You wish it were a dog It’s just big hassle You deeply wish it were life It’s just the social one We do everything wrong We were born all wrong And all we can do Is flying down and fast Smug in front of the gulf curb Head high *Dino Campana *Francesco Volpicelli
5.
I set my eyes on the city I set my eyes on the floor I set my eyes on the city I set my eyes on the sun I feel my eyes burn I packed my suitcase as needed I packed my rags and my woes I set my eyes on the ceiling I set my eyes on the sun Away from this mire From the family, from the hypocrisy Go away from this lame spot Free from work effects Getting far from my own self Follow the sign sayin’: "Disappear here, the syringe fills with blood You’re beautiful boy, And that’s all that matters" * And that’s truly all And that’s all that matters Away from this mire From the family, from the hypocrisy Go away from this lame spot Free from work effects Getting far from me Go away from this lame spot As perspectives change There’s enough for anyone
6.
I say I 04:51
And the best that you can say is “I say I” Anything I see I own, whatever I can touch The mirror is your God, your hands church You live depending on a fair boot You ask your questions without listening to the answering ones And if it all works for you then it should for all Realize that anything around you breaks down Drowning now, you bastard, loner, turd If it goes wrong it’s always frame-up Even if it’s raining then it’s God’s down on you And when it ain’t good it’s surely put-up Even if it’s cold well then it’s God hating you Still the best that you can say is “I say I” Everything you see is yours, whatever you can touch The mirror is your God, your hands church You live depending on a fair boot Anything you do is for the fame and nothing more Yet the future spurted load in your ass and now you drown
7.
All my anger goes by Come back and see those lines Come back to a mount and climb And that’s all that we are All my anger goes by Come back and see those lines Come back to show your past And that’s all that we are Feeling cold as ice, feeling cold as Cold like a stranger Cold like a knife Oh you, beauty in anger Cold like a stranger Cold like the ice Oh you, beauty in anger All my hate’s gone by Come back and read those lines Come back and deal with your past And whatever I said Cold like a stranger Cold like a knife Oh you, beauty in anger Cold like a stranger Cold like the ice Oh you, beauty in anger And you feel like you go down And no one can save you Save you
8.
Missed punch 03:54
In the darkness of your room, eyes open in silence In the blindness of your room, recalling, those voices In the darkness of your room, I like you, it ain’t true In the blindness of your room, we’ll be fine, it ain’t right In the darkness of your room, you lost and you won too In the darkness of your room, you earned your own failure You’re all the steps you failed A missed punch You’re all the masks you’re wearin’ In the darkness of your room, you lost and you won too In the darkness of your room, you earned your own failure You’re all absorbed and shaped King of doubts You’re all your lies and your head down
9.
Open the door, one foot goes beyond You’re wearing regulation heels And you’ve decided who and what Smile at yourself, as all the world is at your feet You feel like you’re the Queen Compared to you we’re all nothing But then you get home alone, no one’s waiting They’re all gone for good, and you talk on your own You know, you say it low I’m a hopless slut with broken heart The wrong dream maker Open the door, one foot goes beyond You’re wearing regulation heels They laugh, the Queen fell down Smile at none, the couch is void You’re feeling like the Queen of nothing One friend, the idiot box
10.
Free to 06:02
I am tired, I am fire, yet feelin’ sober I’ll follow the warmth and I am mine, I am mine And your fear, friend, whore, lover, the hero’s hooker I’ll leave it as your deal, and I am mine, I am mine In time, no tying I am free to stick my head in the oven Or to jump off from any fifth floor ‘Cause I have no bindings And I’m laughing from here as I’m looking at you all Freed as slaves long ago, just like you, free to cover up Free to hold all the hands of the ones who hate and loathe Free to shake all those hands as the one whom they all loathe They all loathe I am fire, I’m feelin’ tired, yet I am sober Until the perfect spring, when I am mine, I am mine

about

Dicono che il tempo sia galantuomo: è vero, forse.
Il tempo è galantuomo ma il suo armadio è pieno di scheletri, uno per ogni stagione, uno per ogni occasione.

Passa il tempo e le muffe stratificano le stoffe, le salda tra loro, i tessuti induriscono, mutano nel colore, perdono definizione nel taglio, finisce che puzzano. Di quello che sono state, di dove sono state, delle cose che hanno visto, dei sudori che hanno assorbito.

Il galantuomo apre l’armadio, è costretto a girare la faccia dall’altra parte: la verità non è simpatica, come quando un bambino ti dice "fai schifo" e tu sorridi perché non puoi fare altro: ha ragione e ti è chiaro.

Passa il tempo e i rancori aumentano: irrigidiscono le sensibilità, come le muffe con le stoffe, ma bisogna pur avercelo, il piano B.
Un piano che non sia quello dal quale saltare nel vuoto, ma quello che ti concede la possibilità di veicolare, metabolizzare, e infine espellere il bolo cattivo, ché se no ti mangia dentro.
Se non tutto almeno in parte.

Questo è il secondo disco dei This is not a Brothel.
Questo il loro piano B.

Un disco di gentiluomini che si sono dati appuntamento in una casa nel nulla per aprire tutti insieme l’armadio e fare i conti con quello che per loro significa fare musica nel 2017. Lontani dalle mode nel tempo e nello spazio, faccia a faccia con ciò che è stato e che non sarà mai più.

FAR IS HERE.
Un piano B che non chiede e non fa sconti.


/// /// /// /// /// /// /// /// /// ///

La band, attiva dal 2011, è composta da Fabio Giobbe (voce e chitarra), Dino Cuccaro (batteria), Giuseppe Diotaiuti (chitarra), Antonio Zannone (chitarra), a cui si è aggiunto per questo secondo disco Angelo Miccoli (basso), già attivo con Giobbe e Cuccaro negli Sleeping Beauty.

I testi dell’album, che offrono uno sguardo intimo, crudo e talvolta brutale sulla realtà circostante, sono stati affidati allo scrittore Gianluca Merola, autore di "Dio taglia 60" e già all’opera nel disco d’esordio dei Brothels.

La nuova release sarà pubblicata il 29 settembre, per la prima volta su etichetta "I Make Records" di Francesco Tedesco, il quale ha curato la produzione artistica, le registrazioni, il missaggio e il mastering.

credits

released September 8, 2017

Angelo Miccoli | Bass
Antonio Zannone | Guitar
Dino Cuccaro | Drums
Fabio Giobbe | Vocals & Guitar
Giuseppe Diotaiuti | Guitar

Music by This is not a Brothel
Lyrics by Gianluca Merola

Produced by Francesco Tedesco & This is not a Brothel
Recorded, mixed and mastered by Francesco Tedesco at IM|Recording, Nocera Inferiore, SA - Italy

Artwork, graphics & layout by Francesco Del Re

www.imakerecords.it
www.thisisnotabrothel.com

℗ & © 2017 I MAKE RECORDS - ALL RIGHTS OF THE PRODUCER AND OF THE OWNER OF THE RECORDED WORK RESERVED

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This is not a Brothel Caserta, Italy

This is not a brothel: questo non è un bordello, questa è una band. Cinque teste, dieci mani, dieci piedi, chilometri e chilometri di viscere, un migliaio di ossa, anni di musica sulle spalle, dentro le vene, una priorità sempre un gradino sopra tutto il resto.
This is not a brothel, questo non è un bordello: è una band.
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