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Small War & The New Angeles Globe

by Film Amerikarma

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    Gatefold ECO-Wallet Packaging with original design by J. Clark Webber, featuring the complete lyrics, and liner notes.

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1.
Barely Morning Edition At first light who puts up a fight? Just give me all your reasons to grieve. I mumble under my breath, “Wish a plague on you all.” There is not one of you I care to believe. It’s panic. It’s barely morning, got me ready to cry and almost looking for a new place to live. They keep on shaking me down - can’t turn away from it all. I’m looking for some kind of pressure release. It always manifests somewhere on the drive. An ugly like you never wanted to see. Im needing someone to blame. Somebody different from me. The other from the news that I read. Piece it all together, burn it into your eyes. You should analyze that, but you don’t. Say you could fix that, but you won’t. How can we fight that, if you won’t? Or realize that, if you don’t? So [expletive] off. [Expletive] off. Humor me and [expletive] off. Just [expletive] off. We piece it all together, burn it into our eyes, and consume it all without a critique. We are beyond the pale - quite simply sacrificed at the altars where we built our beliefs. People everywhere are running from life, and running out of places to run. You try to visualize the place they occupied, and bored you scroll until they are gone. It’s not the thought the lot of us just can’t sympathize, we truly never realize. You could address that, but you won’t. Internalize that, but you don’t. You criticize them because you don't recognize them, but you won’t - you shut off. You shut off. Seriously, you shut off. You shut off. Analyze that, but you don’t. Say you could fix that, but you won’t. How can we fight that if you won’t? Or realize that if you don’t? So [expletive] off. [Expletive] off. Humor me and [expletive] off. Just [expletive] off. Piece it all together; burn it into your eyes. The heavy lifting’s here, crushing every healer in sight. It’s not a breathing exercise, its evil dragged out into the light. This is small war, street to street, we may never broker the peace again. Intellectually, it takes all kinds, but only if you’ll fight to the end. No, the high ground’s not civilized. People everywhere are running from life, and running out of places to flee. They keep on shaking us down - can’t turn away from them all - the others from the news that I read. I probably need to go back to sleep. It’s self-correcting when I shut out the sheep. It’s barely morning, got me ready to cry. Piece it all together, burn it into your eyes.
2.
Take Away the Road He’ll sketch you out the sailboat, and engineer a steam train. So deep inside the mainframe. Defragmenting the new brain. But I’ll settle for a wheelbarrow to haul the things I’ve borrowed from you. And, “Soon you’ll get the Mag-Lev;” he says “the silent tomorrow.” If every little thing that we dream comes true, imagine what’s in store come a year or two. Oblique opacity - so much we’ll never see through. It’s not like we’d know. Starlight. The player piano paints desert vibes. Ones and zeroes and saints alive! While the valley belies that we rest assured all that knowing is liberty. Soon enough they’ll have all they need. All agreed, they’ll vote to take away the road. If every little thing that we fear comes true, imagine what’s in store for a gear like you. While you’ve been watching me, they reassigned who’s watching you, and thats how they know. In hindsight, our measured caution was authorized. Rubber-stamped, sealed, and sanctified by the shuttering of the road. And all requests for more are subject to realisticity. In the name of technology you must believe that you no longer need the road. Slowly rolling back the road. Revising all the stories told. Energized, resigned and cold. They’re bold.
3.
pg. i; infidels I’m in love with people in love. I’m in love with people in love. I’m in love with people in love. “Precious little in this world is instinct alone. The rest is learned - and as such, can be unlearned.”
4.
Expect the Vulture Too soon, vulture. I think you’ve flown in too soon. Come January, will the bones be there? Picked clean for survival - or left to rot over fear. Dress smart and pack lightly, because it’s a way from here to there; a vaguely numbered desert highway and where it ends is never clear. Reflect on shadows and their shapes in the sun, and why you never questioned your eyes. “You can’t trust the compass! Least not the one’s you’ve got to read. And don't suffer your idols, because everybody’s going to bleed.“ I won’t go without a fight. I think you’ve flown in too soon, vulture. I think you’ve flown in too soon. When we show fear before we were even asked, we signal we’re ready for any task. No matter what they may, no matter if we might .We’ll choose not to obey, and they’ll signal shoot on sight. “Because things fall apart. But in the end we all are sure to find our way.” We all expect the vulture - just never thought they'd come so soon. Not sure we’ll make another mile, but we could rustle up a tune. Just come a little closer. I want to feed you from my hand A little poisonous culture built on someone else’s land. They won’t go without a fight. We won’t go without a fight. Too soon, vulture. I think you’ve flown in too soon.
5.
pg. ii; personnel Don’t you try to tell me any fucking thing about the people in my life. I choose them wisely, or they pick me. When they sing I felt I’ve known them for years. And all the tragedy? It won't reach me. All that I know is that I’m in love with people on drugs. “I’m in love with people on drugs.” You want to be convincing. You need to show you can ride these feelings, and get real low. And all the destiny - it seems to be all that I know. “Because I’m in love with people on drugs.” That’s right! I’m in love with people on drugs.
6.
Civilization 02:08
Civilization In time it seems - surely - we need to cross that line. Where my dreams for sure, don’t kill your dreams anymore, in spite of us being so civilized. We’re ground down by economic gears. Still we plough on, year after year. “And though some claim it’s all appropriate, I dare say we’ve inappropriated it. All of it. But it took time to feel this way.” Because she’s a cruel, cruel, cruel, cruel God. So you’ll just have to convince me that we were meant to live this way, as time marches on. Ain’t going back there no more, unless it’s way back before somebody told us to toe that line. Because this time, it seems we ain’t never been civilized.
7.
Bottom Envy 03:20
Bottom Envy Old thoughts. Tile Floor. Blue Lips. Time brought me here, showed me how he rewinds with one wave of my hand. I once was lost. Now, Im still lost but I don’t regret - not one day. So time brings me bring me here to teach me why in spite of calm, I will run. I won’t stay. What was peace someday will now just become small war - with mouthpiece Sundays and the news thats all staid; bathed in blood; reconciled to believe. Come what might, come what may. Lines in the sand, none shall cross. Cross they might, cross they will - cross they do. “This bottom envy is the thing we’ll all die for - and crush me someday, to the tune you won’t wait for at the top of the dial. Beyond the reach of the pain it echoes off of the tile, and crawls right over blue lips but never reaches your. . .” Rain, just in time. Wash me clean so that I can be clean one more day . And... to believe that her eyes tell the truth when they say that they do. editors’s note: Do you know Mary? I think he loved her like I love you. [retractions pending]
8.
pg. iii; like Kojak to Diesel If they come at all they come in pieces, but still quite complete. Unaware it’s still war - still ashamed of defeat. Unable to stop, only repeat. (Assemble your face and try again, there’s no cadence to count, no fences to mend.) (Or pick up the taste and hide again its never a choice or never again - you’re on drugs with people on drugs with people on drugs with people on drugs.) When Johnny comes marching home again: Hurrah! Hurrah! You’re on drugs. (Assemble your face and try again, there’s no cadence to count, or fences to mend.) (Or pick up the taste and hide again. Its never a choice or never again - you’re on drugs.) If they come at all they come in pieces, but still quite complete.
9.
I Dream a Plague Beneath the arc of a meteorite Despite the sirenous street In total peace, and as deeply now Dream the dogs at my feet Despite my best intentions, ma’am To square my hips toward the light It seems the fear is still lingering I dream a plague tonight There’s no particular distinction clear Among the data they’ll ride But sorted out an image will appear To thin the herd tonight So discriminately wavering Throughout the weak and the wise And simply altering the atmosphere I dream a plague tonight Turn up your collar & Roll down your sleeves You need to gauge your resilience By what you believe With no margin of error And pure impartiality I think I’ll just take my chances When it comes for me We thought for sure there’d be alarms. Directives from the T.V. Instead we recognized the calm; their common hope as they near. Was it me all along? Misread a trick of the light? That just couldn’t be right—that just wouldn’t be right. Oh…oh no. Oh…oh no. Oh Mighty Dollar—I was wrong, now I believe I couldn’t see good intentions were all that we’d need I’ve turned up my collar—I’m rolling down my sleeves If I’m resigned to forgiveness, I’m ready to leave. I dreamed a plague tonight. I dreamed a plague tonight. I dreamed a plague tonight. I dreamed a plague tonight. So discriminately wavering, throughout the weak and the wise.
10.
pg. iv; The Yeoman’s Wake I am not bound by anything anymore. I am not bound by anything anymore. I am not bound by...memory’s finite, then memory ends. Surrounded by people with faces of friends, if memory’s finite then memory ends. Surrounded by people with faces of friends, if memory’s finite... Drugs. Drugs with people. In love, with me on drugs. I’m on drugs with people in love with me on drugs. I’m on... I am not bound by anything anymore, in love with me on drugs. I’m on drugs with people in love with me on drugs. I’m on...I am not bound by anything anymore, in love...I am not bound by anything anymore, in love. I am not bound by anything anymore. I am not bound by anything anymore.
11.
Passeport 03:24
Passeport From the West to the East back to the West again is no consequence, as such. It is fate - or some word that we could invent, so it don’t depend on luck. “Qui va faire un autre monde ou nous pourrions vivre ensemble toujours ? C’était l’idée qu’on avait tort.” When we choose a new flag must we all forget? Guess it all depends which one. Because, what if it’s all in our head again? Nothing’s different. Nobody won? Qui va faire un autre monde ou nous pourrions vivre ensemble toujours ? C’était l’idée qu’on avait tort. In spite of the things we know; In spite of the things we’ll say; Won’t matter when we get done. We’re passing through customs here. Have you anything to declare? I believe I’ve declared it all. In spite of the things you know; In spite of the things I’ll say; Don’t matter can’t be undone. Because whether or not we go, and whether or not we stay, won’t matter when we get done. Qui va faire un autre monde ou nous pourrions vivre ensemble toujours? C’était l’idée qu’on avait tort. We’re passing through customs here. Have you anything to declare? I believe that we’ve said it all.
12.
Trading Places When you examine all the pieces, you will surmise there’d been a fight between the things we claim to be and all those wrongs still left to right - and in the morning with the paper, you visualize yourself, sometimes. Inside some circumstance of squalor, outside our standard scope of time. Where the mark of family still matters, our one commodity left: pride. And over ever-changing borders, we came to find ourselves defined. Trading places with you when reality won’t do. I’m switching faces with you just for the night. Changing stations with you when all this destiny won’t do, to justify these times. ...and in the evening with my records, you prophesize some future time. You’re singing with the voice of reason, to me about justice defined. Now free from all that made you human. No longer handicapped by pride. And before morning I awaken resigned it may be still worth trying. Trading places with you when reality won’t do. I’m switching faces with you. Ain’t that my right? Changing stations with you, when all this destiny won’t do. To pacify my eyes.
13.
It Won't 04:13
It Won’t When you turned your back it vanished in thin air. The dissolve of trust on the rain-soaked breakup stairs. When you sing your finest song and no one cares. Examine the theory, and bury the bones. Be sure to write it down when you get back home. And though you may not recall all the details there. It might help you decide if you still care. No matter how this came to be, or if we see things differently. This may change a few things for you, but it won’t for me. Oh, honestly don’t trust what’s ‘right’. We’ll check our pockets in broad daylight, and see if it’s as bad as it seems to be. And though it may not help to change the way you feel, it might help you decide what’s truly real. No matter who should pay the price. No matter who should compromise; because even if these thrills are cheap, they won’t be free. “Down with the vermin in the tunnels under the wall, we’ll have time and space to make sense of it all, and read all the works that warned us that this was our future but we would not listen - in defiance we can contemplate the signs that we got wrong, wrapped safely in flags no one tries to burn, because no one can recall.” The place we’re in reminds me of somewhere. A stone-cold defeat on the sun-baked tarmac stairs. And though it just won’t feel the same with him not there - I guess we’ll all find out what we believe is fair. No matter who should leave tonight; no matter who just lost the fight; no matter who should leave tonight, it won’t be me. No matter who should leave tonight; no matter who just lost the fight; no matter who should leave tonight, it won’t be me.

about

Small War & The New Angeles Globe, recorded in Los Angeles, is an original work of hard AOR rock and roll, crafting personal and political critique out of authentic, innovative hooks and incisive lyrics.
Against a narrative of crises, intimate and pre-apocalyptic, Small War induces a sonic reckoning with ourselves, our moment, and the urgency of moving forward.

credits

released November 10, 2017

Written, Recorded & Mixed by J. Clark Webber inside Templenaught in Screenland, CA.
Mastered by Nick Zampiello
Additional Input from Glen Alger Schricker

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Film Amerikarma Los Angeles, California

Film Amerikarma alchemizes the analog fundamentals of 4-piece bands with the magic of the new technology. Inspiring introspection and analysis, Film Amerikarma’s innovative hooks hide an incisive critique while delivering a textured soundtrack & storyboard for the coming small wars.


The FAk live show fuses curated influence and hybrid delivery.


Man. Music. Machine.
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