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Refused
The Shape Of Punk To Come
(A Chimerical Bombination in 12 Bursts)
"They told me that the classics never got a style but, they do, they do. Somehow baby, I never thought that we do to."
I got a bone to pick with capitalism and a few to break
Grab us by the throat and shake the life away
Human life is not commodity, figures, statistics or make believe
And yeah, I like eating excrement, not getting paid for it
Play the guilt, play the fear & play the anxiety
And yeah, I like eating excrement, not getting paid for it
Play the guilt, play the fear & play the anxiety
Seduced by the opportunity and robbed of hope
Alien nation is not commodity, figures, statistics or make believe
Yeah!
One more time. Oh!
Marginalise away the joy and sell us boredom
And yeah, I like working doing nothing, not making anything
Blame the poor, blame the uneducated & blame the sick
And yeah, I like working doing nothing, not making anything
Blame the poor, blame the uneducated & blame the sick
I got a bone to pick and a few to break
I took the first bus out of Coca-Cola city
It made me feel all nauseous & shitty
I took the first bus out of Shell town
Cos they didn't want me all hanging around
Yeah! Yeah! I took the first bus
Yeah, baby! I took the first bus
I took the first bus out of Coca-Cola city
It made me feel all nauseous & shitty
I took the first bus out of Shell town
Cos they didn't want me all hanging around
Yeah! Yeah! I took the first bus
Let's take the first bus out of here
Let's take the first bus out of here
Let's take the first bus out of here
Let's take the first bus out of here
Let's take the first bus out of here
Let's take the first bus out of here
Let's go!
Yeah!
It's coming through the air
For all of us to hear
Could it be the sounds of liberation
Or just the image of detention?
We want the airwaves back
We want the airwaves back
We don't just want airtime
We want all the time all of the time
We want the airwaves back
We want the airwaves back
We don't just want transmission
We want...
What frequency are you getting?
Is it noise or sweet sweet music?
What frequency will liberation be?
What frequency will liberation be?
It's coming through the air
For all of us to hear
Could it be the sounds of liberation
Or just the image of detention?
Control my flower
Business, news all ready to devour
Who's in charge and what does he say?
Is he playing the alternative or does it sound the same old way?
We want the airwaves back
We want the airwaves back
We want transmission for the people (by the people)
We mean...
We wanted everything
We needed everything
We needed everything
What frequency are you getting?
Is it noise or sweet sweet music?
What frequency will liberation be?
What frequency? What frequency?
What frequency are you getting?
Is it noise or sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet?
What frequency will liberation be?
What frequency? What frequency? What frequency?
We want the airwaves back
We want the airwaves back
We don't just want airtime
We want all the time all of the time
What frequency are you getting?
Is it noise or sweet sweet music?
What frequency will liberation be?
What frequency will liberation be?
What frequency are you getting?
Is it noise or sweet sweet sweet?
What frequency will liberation be?
What frequency? What frequency?
The Deadly Rhythm (of the production line)
"We got more coming, right now. There's more coming. We're gonna get, gonna get little sort of a session going here. A bit of a session, a sessions that will feature the rhythm section."
This union that made us powerless is talking over our heads
Claiming prosperity in a downward spiral plan
Stuck by the deadly rhythm of the production line
Stuck by the deadly rhythm of the production line
This power that made us unionless is taking out of our hands
Cheapest labour at our expensive cost, auctioned our lives away
Stuck by the deadly rhythm of the production line
Stuck by the deadly rhythm of the production line
We consume our lives like we are thankful
For what we are being forced into
Is it our duty to die for governments & for gods?
Is it our privilege to slave for market & for industry?
Is it our right to follow laws, set to scare and to oppress?
Is it a gift to stay in line and will it take away the blame?
Can no longer pay the price. We'll get organized!
We'll no longer believe working for you will set us free!
Can no longer pay the price. We'll get organized!
We'll no longer believe working for you will set us free!
Summer Holidays Vs. Punk Routine
I'm tired of losing myself to some stupid childhood dream of what I could have been
Money proves the point and I'm stuck between summer holidays & punk routine
I shoot off a 100 things to remain more sorry than safe, you see
I only get this fucking chance once and I just can't let it be
Well, I'm still certain that what motivates me is more rewarding than any piece of paper could be
Well adjusted & corrupt, all those icons that stole our teenage lust
A scenario of simplicity, a scenario of you and me
A scenario of simplicity, a scenario of you and me
Rather be forgotten than remembered for giving in
Rather be forgotten than remembered -- remembered -- for giving in
Rather be forgotten than remembered for giving in
Rather be forgotten than remembered -- remembered -- for giving in
We're all tired of dying, so sick of not trying
Scared that we might fail, we'll accomplish nothing
We're all tired of dying, so sick of not trying
Scared that we might fail, we'll accomplish nothing
Not even failure
Not even failure
Not even failure
Not even failure
Rather be forgotten than remembered for giving in
Rather be forgotten than remembered -- remembered -- for giving in
Rather be forgotten than remembered for giving in
Rather be forgotten than remembered -- remembered -- for giving in
Giving in
Giving in
Giving in
Can I scream? Yeah!
We lack the motion to move to the new beat
We lack the motion to move to the new beat
It's here for us to admire if we can afford the beauty of it
Can afford the luxury of turning our heads
Adjust that thousand dollars smile and behold the creation of man
Great words won't cover ugly actions -- good frames won't save bad paintings
We lack the motion to move to the new beat. Yeah!
We lack... motion
When the day is over -- Hey! -- the doors are locked on us
Money buys the access -- and we can't pay the cost
And how can we expect anyone to listen if we are using the same old voice?
We need new noise -- new art for the real people
We dance to all the wrong songs
We enjoy all the wrong moves
We dance to all the wrong songs
We're not leading
We dance to all the wrong songs
We enjoy all the wrong moves
We dance to all the wrong songs
We're not, we're not, we're not, we're not, we're not, we're not...
Leading
We dance -- all the wrong songs
We enjoy -- all the wrong moves
We dance -- all the wrong songs
We dance -- all the wrong songs
We enjoy -- all the wrong moves
We dance -- all the wrong songs
Here we go!
We dance to all the wrong songs
We enjoy all the wrong moves
We dance to all the wrong songs
We're not leading. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
The new beat! The new beat! The new beat! The new beat! The new beat! The new beat! The new beat! The new beat!
The new beat! The new beat! The new beat! The new beat! The new beat! The new beat! The new beat! The new beat!
Thank you.
This is the pulse, this is the sound
This is the beat of a new generation
This is the movement, this is the rhythm
This is the noise of revolution
Yeah! Yeah! Arrrrh!
Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
Refused party programme
Refused party programme
Refused party programme
Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
Yeah!
"To sing you must first open your mouth. You must have a pair of lungs and a little knowledge of music. It is not neccessary to have an accordion, or a guitar. The essential thing is that I want to sing. Then this is a song, I'm singing." -H. Miller
I breathe in & I, I create
Rewoke the spirit '68
Fresh meaning to torn ideas
Let's bring life to old clichés
Punch a hole in tradition, yeah!
Let's listen to the songs of discontent
To the chords & the movement
To the chords & the movement
It could all be so simple
We would all stand baffled by the precision & accuracy
Our jaws would hurt from dropping so hard, fast & unexpectedly
It would be the perfect metaphor
Be the perfect song we'd be singing
I breathe out & I scream
Rewoke Malatesta's dream
Inspiration from the past
Focus to the future at last
Fixed dogmas can't substitute
Creative thought & action
It could be dangerous
Art as a real threat
All it is it words
Words said a million time before
All it is is a song
A song sung a million times before
I breathe in, I create
Rewoke the spirit '68
I breathe out, I scream
Rewoke Malatestas dream
Beyond ability & control we could be weekend lovers
Steal a sentence and make a catch phrase parole for our revolution
Whispered all across the street about the, about the new cool call
Or screamed at your face like a scabs payroll
Faces like angels, licking our fingertips
We don't have the patience to deal with it
With battered bodies & puckered lips
We don't have the patience to deal with it
A naive young secret for the new romantics
We express ourselves in loud & fashionable ways
A naive young secret for the new romantics
We express ourselves in loud & fashionable ways
Faces like angels, licking our fingertips
We don't have the patience to deal with it
With battered bodies & puckered lips
We don't have the patience to deal with it. Yeah!
Get down, get down. Can I get a witness? Oh!
This I gotta see
Bring it in! Bring it in! Bring it in!
One more time for me. Yeah!
Gotta get away from this town
Bring it in! Bring it in! Bring it in!
One more time for me. Go!
We don't have the patience
We don't have the patience
We don't have the patience
We don't have the patience.
Yeah!
Get down
Listen to him
A naive young secret for the new romantics
We express ourselves in loud & fashionable ways
A naive young secret for the new romantics
We express ourselves in loud & fashionable ways
A naive young secret for the new romantics
We express ourselves in loud & fashionable ways
A naive young secret for the new romantics
We express ourselves in loud & fashionable ways
Hey baby! you never felt this good
Freedom through your stereo and you wish you could
Take a bite, do a dance, get lost on a crusade, jump on this soul train: destination unknown
Yeah! Yeah! Arrrh!
We're all dressed up, we've got somewhere to go
All dressed up with somewhere to go
I told you so! I told you so!
We're all dressed up, we've got somewhere to go
All dressed up
I told you so! I told you so! I told you so!
Hey baby! never felt this free
A pair of new shoes & a punk rock show to see
Give acclamation to these blue ribbon babies, check the calendar for the expiration date
We've all been bitten
We've all been underground
We've all been beaten, battered, bruised, told to get down
We've all been bitten
We've all been shot down
We've all been beaten, battered, bruised, told to get down
Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
We're all dressed up, we've got somewhere to go
All dressed up with somewhere to go
I told you so! I told you so!
We're all dressed up, we've got somewhere to go
All dressed up
I told you so! I told you so! I told you so!
Adolescent beats with a new thing to see
Smashed guitars just like you've seen on T.V.
With burning speakers & flaming hair
We'll have a riot right here
We'll have a riot right here
So where do we go from here?
Just about anywhere
Disorientated but alive
Boredom won't get me tonight
Let's bring this city to life, to light -- tonight
Let's bring this city to life, tonight -- to light
There is no destination
But with a goal in mind
We can all be realistic
Demand the impossible
Let's bring this city to life -- to light, tonight
Let's bring this city to life -- tonight
Every street is an adventure and every road becomes a trip. Every turn we take and every decision we don't make, even the decision we don't make, will bring us into the secrets of their town. Every corner we turn will lead us, every corner we turn will lead us down the labyrinths, and every desire that we earn will guide us alive, living, loving & searching.
So where do we go from here?
Just about anywhere
Disorientated but alive
Boredom won't get me tonight
Boredom won't get me tonight
Boredom won't get me tonight
Boredom won't get me tonight
Petrol bombs & barricades
Anything to have our say
Consequence of no choice at all
Empires rise & empires fall
Now it's time to flip some coins
And it's time to turn some tables
(Cos if we have the vision I know that we are able
Suck on my words for a while, choke in the truth of a million dead
There is no prestige in your title, we are after your head
The destruction of everything is the beginning of something new
Your new wold is on fire and soon you'll be (too)
Sabotage will set us free
Throw a rock in the machine
Sabotage will set us free
Throw a rock in the machine
Throw a rock in the machine
Throw a rock in the machine
Refused: A Psychological Scrutiny Of Their Motives
I met Dennis at a hardcore show in Stockholm several years ago. Since then, through many trips to Sweden, I have gotten to know Dennis, David, Stone & Jon quite well. There have been many late nights talking, afternoons playing disc golf, countless hours sitting around in Dennis' living room (which I have long since claimed my own), and hard road trips while on tour.
When they asked me to write a piece for this album I was surprised at their choice of person. They all know that I am not the biggest fan of the type of music that they play and I am definitely not experienced at writing liner notes. I may know little about music but I know a bit about what the people in the band have been doing, thinking, & experiencing since they made their last album. I suppose that it is this that qualifies my thoughts on the matter as authoritative. What I feel that I being asked to do is give a brief and objective interpretation (if there can ever be an "objective" anything) of the underlying meaning behind a band like Refused releasing an album like this one. Now we shall see if I am up to the task at hand. To me this album is a reflection of tensions that exist within the band, or more to the point, most bands. Thesse tensions are caused, in part, by diverging ideas, interests, & directions and, in part, by obligations & responsibilities which being in a band dictate. There are multiple creative elements in a band which all contribute their part towards the creation of the whole. However, each of these people lead different lives and thus is propelled by different influences. To understand the impact of these individual differences one must turn to the underlying reasons behind the band's very existence.
Initially, Refused came together with the common purpose of playing as a hardcore band. Getting the band up & running accomplished this. The commonality of initial purpose thus became obsolete to a certain extent. The initial purpose served as the adheseve and, when this dissolved, something further was required to insure cohesion. For some of the band members it is fact that the band provides a venue for the expression of ideas. The lyrics & message of the band has always had a political agenda. For others, the band serves as an environment in which to refine & advance their personal musical ambitions. Being that ideas can be expressed to any sound track, it is the latter of the above functions that is most susceptible to the passing of time. As time passes, the limits of growth & progression within a set paradigm get reached. If it is the goal to continue to produce then there are two paths that can be taken: expansion outside of the set paradigm or stagnation and, inevitably, repetition.
The musicians to be true to themselves, have to expand in new directions. While this satisfies their obligations to themselves, it also satisfies their obligation to their past and their influences. Their past is given continued meaning through their progression & building upon it. Also, there are few things worse than mocking music that you love & the musicians who created it by playing "down" to that music. A large part of what makes some bands so great is not just rooted in the actual music, ideas, or the fact that they "were the first to do it." Rather, it is that they were giving their best effort and playing at the edge of their abilities at all times. if a band ever finds that it is not doing both of those things then they are not playing the kind of music that they should be playing. There is no better tribute to a creative influence than being creative. For a band to satisfy themselves as a collective, the rajectory of growth & change has to be acceptable to all. However, it must be kept in mind that "acceptable" is often inherently a compromise and thus, laced with internal tensions.
The satisfaction of the above often causes a new level of friction, that between the band & the people who like & support the band. It can be quite disappointing for a fan to get a band's new album and then find out that it is different in a way no approved of. I am sure that everybody can relate this feeling to the first time that they listened to "Stream of Consciousness" by Cryptic Slaughter or "Cold Lake" by Celtic Frost.
Differences are often smoothed over because there is a degree of change which is usually acceptable. Once this difference has exceeded the acceptable limit then a fan can do one of two things: move with the band or let the band move past them. "What are they doing?" might be a question that is asked after the first spin of this record. I suspect that the band would be the worst source to go to for an answer to that question. I don't believe they could really tell you what they are doing or where they are going with this. All they know is where they came from, what they have done, what has been done by others, and what needs to be done. This is their response to the vague, yet compelling impulses which coax them onward. Is this really the sound & shape of punk to come? Maybe. Maybe not. It would be fair to say that the musical direction of the album fits into revolutionary attitude of the band much more than anything which they have produced before. While in past albums, there were the hints of revolution, embedded in the lyrics & layout, in this album, the entire product conveys this suggestion of revolution. The lyrics, music, & layout in this album all merge together to give you something different; something to inspire thought that runs much deeper than what is printed on the lyrics sheet. Regardless of what it amounts to, the band is trying out new possibilities, not just for themselves but for all whom expect them to create.
Patrick T. Daly
Oxford, United Kingdom
1997
This manifesto is very much for real
The worms of the senses ponder quickly towards destruction. Winning is not everything but in our elitist competitive society it is all that matters. Rice cakes for the people and caviar for the leaders who built our world around machines, money and matter. We were left out of the plan and our destination is set by the used car dealer or the factory boss. Bored we walk home with our heads hanging and our creativity stolen as an effect of capitalist gain. In a dream state there is nothing more than simple abstraction of the mind from the matter and the belief that work will somehow "macht frei". The theory that Marx recognised from Feuerbach, and now we, the people, need to see the spectacle that binds us to our "destiny". Alienation is not commodity, figures, statistics or make believe but very much a real tool of oppression and seclusion. If we can't take our part then we must not take part. The faculties of the skull are another dimension of that which is sucking us dry. The imperialisation of the third world is dominant even in our taste for soft drinks and afternoon snacks. With dry wits and knuckles dragging the ground co-operations claim that profit is rightfully theirs and that the blood squeezed out of Africa, South America, Burma, The Baltic states and South Asia is nothing but market interest and public craving. Their products are death and they are salesmen of corruption and power abuse. They are the slave dealers of our time. They are the inquisition. They are the machine that must be stopped.
Turn the knob and wait for the liberating sound of ecstasy and revolution. Who pays the newsman and who owns the radio stations and who runs the record label? Who benefits from the de-politicizing in art and music and who benefits from the clean sound of the next pop wonder? Who runs the game show and who pays the salaries to the reporters? Here and now we offer you a taste of our liberation frequency, provided by us for your satisfaction and excitement. This is radio clash, 33 Revolutions Per Minute, our haven of thoughts and ideas. It could be yours too, if only you'd let yourself go and turn the knob and listen and love and sing and think.
Stuck by the deadly rhythm of the production line. Stuck by the conditions set by the capitalist market. Stuck by the necessities of living and forced to take part. If we are tired it is because we are supposed to be and if we are hungry it is because we have to be and if we are bored it is because it is expected of us. Bored and chained and stuck and dead. New forms of work camps are arranged and new ways of hiding the monotonous beat of slavery are being presented. The preliminary condition required for propelling the workers to the status of "free" producers and consumers of commodity was the violent expropriation of their own time. The spectacular return of time was made possible only after this dispossession of power. Urbanism is capitalism's seizure of the natural and human environment; developing logically into absolute domination, capitalism can and must now remake the totality of space into it's own setting. Time, work, environment and joy all have their norms set by modern ways of production.
The awkward youngster touches his poster and glances upon the stars and the heavens. The day seems neverending and there is a certain notion of innocence and childhood play. The mantra will be repeated and we will learn to obey and love and cherish the chosen few. Manners inconceivable and then we have to live. Ideals corrupted and echoes from the past about ideas once held true are shining like untouchable constellations. But we are all stars, shining and burning, cruising down the highway looking for the next stop and the next break from capitalised boredom and slavery. Then there is the option of summer holidays vs. punk routine. Then there is greed and money and fallen heroes. "We are all tired of dying". So why not try and live for a change and turn that glimmering into bright shining creation through the realisation that you know everything and that you are you?
Must I paint you a picture about the way that I feel? This situation of Art vs. Life and the present elitism within the bourgeoisie and upper-class. The critics hold their heads high cause they know about the real suffering and the real work while we get the easy accessible forms of communication and entertainment, pinned down simple for us to comprehend. The lack of stimulants within art, politics and life lowers our standards which is why we settle for talkshows and MTV. We are not stupid, but if we are treated like ingrates we will start to act like children. The lack of challenging forms of expression and thoughts of fire and self-confidence gives us a passive and hollow nature. So reclaim art, take back the fine culture for the people, the working people, the living people and burn down their art galleries and destroy their fancy constructions and buildings. Cause we, unlike the bourgeoisie, have nothing to lose and therefore our expression will be the only honest one, our words will be the only challenging ones and our art will be the one revolutionary expression. We need new noise and new voices and new canvases to become something more than the last poets of a useless generation.
The credentials with which we call upon you are simple linguistics thrown and tossed liked flaming songs of discontent. The Refused party programme screams out not 1, not 2, not 3, not 4, not 5 but 6 opinions and 6 structures of change and 6 levels of liberation. All in all not mystical but direct and attractive and as we shout "Yeah" you'll feel the same sensation best described by Tomas Paine: "Let them call me rebel and welcome, I feel no concern from it; but I should suffer the misery of devils, were I to make a whore of my soul...". Here and now and all the time the mythical touch and the obvious message. Behold the wisdom of the party program.
Pro (in favour) – attest (testify for). The time is now and still we sit and wait for it to become the now that we think we need. The movement of protest has strong traditions and we are far from the first to recognise and use the power of the song and the words from the young poets. We are trembling from the taste of days gone to waste and there is inspiration and there is clarity. Phil Ochs stated firmly "If I have something to say I'm going to say it now" and still protest song 68 is nothing more than a pastiche, a blueprint of seduction of the echoes that once filled the corridors of dorms and boys/girls rooms in an era where rebellion and revolt was present in art and music. From the first until the last, from the taste of longing freedom to the shackles of oppression, the weapon of the artist has always been used.
Refused are fuckin dead that's what the answering machine said, looks like this is it!!! They talked one to many shit about the upper-class and the government, did you hear what those faggots said in some fanzine someone else read. I heard they are a bunch of spoiled little rich kids who need to get their asses kicked. Fuckin ingrates! Fuckin pussies!! Refused are fuckin dead guaw huydsas kjhds aowedde (fighting sequence). Refused are fuckin dead by order of the postmaster general just like the panthers only this time for real because SAPO have tapped their telephones and the Umeå police raided their homes and they must have been killed.
Are you ready baby? For the shape of punk to come. Get the equipment together and we'll meet at the show. It's gruesome that someone so handsome should care. We all recognise the hint of the programme screaming at the top of his lungs that "We're all dressed up and we got somewhere to go". Like the rebellious swing kids of the 40's or the crazy jazz heads of the 50's to the stylish mods of the 60's we all need to recognise that style in contradiction to fashion is necessary to challenge the conservatism of the youth cultures placed upon us. Strict in our style but with a touch of elegance and freedom and individualism. The uniform and the production of constructive challenges comes in the most unexpected of shapes, Ornette Coleman reinvented jazz altogether and we need a new beat to move to so grab your partner and ask: "Do you want to go out with me, watch me get on my knees and bleed?" This blind date might take you to places unknown and it will be new and scary and vital. But nonetheless there is no danger in exploration and searching. It never tasted this great to scream "yes" and you never had more enticing cavalier to hold hands with. The new teen hysteria of noise and kisses and politics and crazy entertainment and naked fun and beats and books and poetry and travelling and style. It's never been safe to live in a world that teaches us to respect property and disregard human life. So drop your belongings and get on this soul train, dig the static sound and think that maybe this once there is just us, the kids, playing the day away, it's just us kicking over statues and smashing windows of houses of parliaments, just to show them who has the real power. This blind date will take us anywhere we want.
A dream only lasts so long. Imagine the pyramids inhabited by aliens and the dark corridors and the dreams and the longing for better financial conditions. The sweat pours down your neck and you run and you run, heart beating, head pounding, alive tonight. The streets never sleep, they are glowing, vibrating with the echoes of laughter and joy, screams and curses. We just need to take the time and see what it can offer us and how we can break free from this boredom that the capitalist reign has forced upon us. Tonight we can be as mighty as Tannhäuser and we can tumble excited down the labyrinths and the turns knowing that derivè is potent. So where do we go from here?
The Apollo programme was a hoax or so we say. The biggest lie was market economy that blinded us with the glory of prosperity and freedom. The deck was dealt and we all lost, on our knees in the dirt hoping for salvation and then we look and there are golden drops of dawn functioning as oral sagas, keeping us shackled, making glory of the lies that the spectacle provides us with. So as we sit tight and enjoy the soap operas that are designed to keep us bleeding out of our eyes and keeps us nodding and sighing, there is still hope in the petrol bomb and in it, the revolution. For in the destruction and the overthrowing there is a certainty of salvation. We need to destroy the museum and it's old artefacts, we need to tear down the power structures that enslaves and then in revolution we can live and be alive. Yes, this is our hymn and our praise to the brave and bold stranger in the night, to the fed up worker and the angry wife. Hope, revolution and dedication. Fight fire with fire and everything will burn. Yeah.
This manifesto is very much for real.
Refused.
Kristofer Steen -- guitar, bass & drums.
David Sandström -- drums, guitar & melodica.
Dennis LyXzén -- all things vocal.
Jon F. Brännström -- guitars & samplers.
Magnus Björklund -- bass & cello.
Torbjörn Näsbom -- violin.
Jakob Munck -- upright bass.
Pelle Henricsson -- tambourine.
And introducing Andreas Nilsson as the Roadie, driver, sound technician, tour manager & occasional bassplayer.
Recorded, producer, mixed & mastered by Eskil Lövström, Andeas Nilsson, Pelle Henricsson & Refused at
Tonteknik & Bomba Je, late 1997.
Art direction by Dennis.
Lay out by Dennis & José.