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Where I'm Coming From
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rave punk techno breakbeat prodigy moby political eels ultrasonic anarchist crass
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Take old skool rave, add indie/punk sensibilities and anarchist politics, shake vigorously, then see what happens...
Total semi-competent amateur and proud of it! There are currently 10 full albums, 5 EPs and numerous stray tracks available here... keep checking up, cos more music is appearing all the time... For album and EP artwork, visit . If you think you can stomach more of this shit, then why not check the , and wonder at my musical development (or lack thereof...) I now also have a page dedicated to I've done for other people... Finally, there's also a wee side project that I have which goes by the name ...
Song Info
Genre
Electronic • Breakbeat
Charts
Peak #958
Peak in subgenre #19
Author
Neil O'Brien
Rights
@nti-copyright
Uploaded
May 27, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.8 MB • 128 kbps • 3:06
Story behind the song
This is an idea I've had for ages... a sort of state of the nation address to the British working class. The whole thing was written and recorded in two days - a record for a vocal track of mine. Surprisingly, I think I've managed to to the vocals justice too...
Lyrics
It’s not inner-city But it’s not yet suburbia It’s a fading remnant Of a dying culture - Working class pride In a functioning community That’s being torn apart By the capitalist economy Bang went the pits In came the supermarkets Figures fiddled, lives fucked In pursuit of government targets Cutting social spending To plump the pillows of the rich Labour follow the Tory lead And it makes me fucking sick Now people round here Don’t have expectations They dream of the lottery Like that’ll solve their problems No more scraping by No more insecurity Get the hell out of here And try to live like celebrities But until then It’s TV and sedation Smack, weed, drink and pills In the search for oblivion Nihilist-hedonists Without knowing what that means Hiding from a reality Coming apart at the seams This could be anywhere This is nowhere To some This is where I’m from It’s nothing special But it’s home Know thy neighbour as thyself That is, not at all A stranger in the mirror With no pride before you fall To boredom and stress This plague is pandemic An industrial disease It’s not hard to credit There’s no dignity in work That smothers individuality Beneath a uniform And a corporate mentality But things are no better When you’re living on the dole Being endlessly monitored Like you’re out on parole Taken home by the police In my fourteenth year With the bizzies sneering “They’re all scum round here” And I’m sitting there thinking I’d like to break this fucker’s neck Use the language of violence To teach him a little respect Cos these are my people And I’d like to think that we’re still one Not just an atomised mass After the damage that’s been done Is it too late? I want to know Is it really too late? Is it too late To make a change now? This could be anywhere Cos everywhere seems the same This is where I’m from But it’s not where I want to remain
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