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41 plays
Sarmust - Return to Ambala (Acoustic Demo) 2009
Lyrics:
two lovers held their hands
stretched across a border made by man…
some day i’ll go and see that haunted tree
the one in my grandfather’s havali
the one i never got to see
decades before me they were forced to flee
now generations wander aimlessly
in search of freedoms that they never had
blindfolded by the colours of their separate flags
they call it partition it’s more like separation
we could blame the east india company
tell them how nawabs became their coolies
we could blame tyranny and poverty
unless we forgive, none shall be free
they call it partition it’s more like separation
this story is not mine alone
millions of people can never return home
because home’s a place they’ve never known
they call it partition it’s more like separation
one day punjab will reunite
the holy land will reunite
pashtunistan will reunite
afghanistan will reunite
sindh will reunite
kashmir will reunite
bengal will reunite
return to ambala…
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10 plays
The Fanaa Fish - They will dance for dengue fever
2009 Such Records
This is some instrumental electro surf, inspired by Cambodian surf rock. This is the title track off of The Fanaa fish EP
also check out Cambodian rocks
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10 plays
Evil Art Form- “Disco tec” 2005 Such Records.
WAKE UP PEOPLE! 7AM GYALS MOO YAH BODY!
I don’t want my music to say, ‘This is who God is.’ I want it to say, ‘Let’s talk about who God is and we’ll all be smarter afterwards.’
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20 plays
Evil Art Form- “Waaaaaaaa” 2009
A slicing experiment set to some free styln piano, tryna get African? Miami-sound? dirty-south? not sure really…
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43 plays
“Evil Art Form - Symphal” 2005 Such Records (Digitally remastered)
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41 plays
“Disenchanted” - Diacritical 2007 Such Records. One of the more musically interesting of the Diacritical songs this has a cycling 6/8 rhythm coupled by a fervent choir of chanting as the back drop for a song that expresses the disillusionment of circumstance. We are not all meant to be what we dream but we dream anyway, the journey from ego to self realization is one laden with disappointment, if desire is truly the route of suffering, why do we keep trying, is it pride or something even more? Are we shapers of reality, or bound by circumstance.
Lyrics:
(chanting ” i just don’t give up”)
Right across the street
The air smells sweeter
The vibrant illusion
Of my so called fever
Could I be the beloved
Or the cheap thrill seeker
In this cold reality
The truth is I’m neither
Shove it back inside the package
Return to sender
You’re just average
You’re nothing special
You don’t feel equal
The mood is never tranquil
And it never will be
I’m disenchanted
my foes all vanquished
to end the rampage I spoke another language
no matter how much I cry
the sun will still be there when I wake up
I can’t ensure that I’ll endure another day of feeling this way
This tightened face
It plays charades
I’m being vague
But that’s OK
See, I’m fragile like the moment before you spill your guts
No more eloquence
I just don’t give (a fuck) / up
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56 plays
Evil Art From -“Yang ching gOODNESS” 2005 Such records.
Though this track is named after an instrument, the sliced and diced sound of the “yang chi’n” or Chinese hammered dulcimer, is not quite apparent at first in this track the jagged and staccato sliced samples pulse with a nature that is completely opposite of the instrument that they originally came from. The layers of flute, dulcimer and rhythm bounce in an abstract dance pattern, Utilizing more breaks and pauses, than flowing flute or dulcimer-like tones. This experiment in sounds and rhythms has evolved this into some type of hybrid Asian-electro-glitch-pop. Somewhere between a quirky cellphone ring tone and the dance floor.
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34 plays
Diacritical - “War Crimes” 2007
I’m not my father
I’m the oracle
the lyrical miracle
I’m filling that hole in my soul
with spiritual spackle
caught in a debacle
smoking wack-o-tobacco
words in a conundrum
over the bass drum
if life was a needle
it’d be stuck in the eye
of the norm of the storm
I cuddle with chaos to stay warm
like love letters with no postage, man
I wandered from land to land with marker in hand
clenched fist could have caused carpel tunnel
all the races in a funnel siphoned out to be the modern man
and they wonder why the world has gone under
because we don’t except we label keeping the balance unstable
like some who concentrate their power to create
a world polluted by corporate clowns turning smiles upside down
little rich girl
never seen her daddy’s world
all the money that he stole all the lives out of control for what, greed, the need to succeed
Disease resides in the mind
Frequently travels through time
And lovers pay for war crimes
The mothers pay for war crimes
I’ll shake the world like an etch-a sketch
And hopefully the rest can catch
My drift
A pivotal moment to deposit there opinion
I’m peeling the layers of an onion
The core is marketed , yes
again in pursuit of capital
the out come being volatile
the stocks in family value are depleted but still the beat’s repeated
so the
message in conceived and hopefully received
with open ears and joy full tears
the truth is no one succeed without failing first
so in a burst of anxious power
I make my rivals cower
and realize that all along they were
incognito, diseased like a mosquito
plaguing there own mind
and walking a thin line between the
dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb….
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87 plays
بلّے بلّےTomb of the Unnamed Bhangra (Rock mix) - Evil Art Form 2009. This song features a classic Pop-Bhangra flavour but with the burn and growl of electric guitar. This remixed version of this song is featured in the Eyesteelfilms documentary about Taqwacore. On an interesting side note, instead of the normal Ektar used in Bhangra a Banjo-uke was used on this recording The original version without guitars is here.
www.purevolume.com/evilartform
http://dcbhangra.com/
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33 plays
Sarmust - “Machine guns” (acoustic demo) 2009
Lyrics:
You say you know, where evil goes, where evil lies, but i can see it in your eyes, this gangland your land my land stolen, angry babies bellies swollen, who made those guns, who armed the young.
But i do not fear machines guns, i do not hear machine guns i am deaf to all but love.
In the Khyber Pass, where the hippies laughed, and Alexander passed, well now a days the kids they make their guns by hand. Forged in fire not cold war the triggers all implore, you can’t just disregard and then bombard and then ignore.
But i do not fear machines guns, i do not hear machine guns i am deaf to all but love.
There’s a garden in Punjab, bullet holes in the walls, each one is framed, so our children don’t forget but some how i feel regret. Near the Golden Temple they felt free to assemble, anger came in armoured cars, and bodies fell like shooting stars.
History scars, History’s scars
But i do not fear machines guns, i do not hear machine guns i am deaf to all but love.
www.myspace.com/sarmust
