Cripple Bastards / World 7″
Giulio the Bastard – vocals
Alberto the Crippler – guitar
Walter Dr. Tomas – drums
Gigi Pacino – bass
Label: NAT Records
Recorded in autumn / winter 1997 at Acqualuce Studios, Alpignano/Torino by Frankie Ribbera (Marco Milanesio)
- 1. Pete The Ripper
- 2. Negativity
- 3. I Wonder Who The Real Cannibals Are
- 4. I Dare You
> Released in 1999, NAT # 010, 2000 copies (or more?), the 2nd pressing had the CB front cover in a slightly different color (brown/red-wine instead of pink/violet).
> 2 large inserts enclosed, the CB’s one filled with tons of lyrics/statements/commentaries.
The 4 CB songs here are structured as it follows:
1) PETE THE RIPPER :: words sung are taken from the first half reported here, not from the “words translated from Lucio Fulci’s NY ripper” – section. Spoken samples in the central break are taken from a TV interview with Marco Bergamo (Italian serial killer) and from Sergo Martino’s “Torso” aka “I corpi presentano trace di violenza carnale”.
2) NEGATIVITY :: words sung are those reported here, before the commentary
3) I WONDER WHO THE REAL CANNIBALS ARE :: words sung consist of few statements taken from the English commentary related to the song.
4) I DARE YOU: no words – just vocalized hatred and gore-induced ferocity.
Most of the commentaries/statements have been originally written in Italian and later translated in English, we tried to avoid mistakes, but the basic form may sound quite rigid and non“fluent” …
Seclusion is why he suffers /
a border of impotence has forever estranged his face from many others /
prime motive – a heart caged in a vitreous cell /
an inexistent life gnawed by fevers and lymphatic decay /
Feelings whitering >> health violently decaying /
”he’s somebody who imputes to the society he lives in the causes of his failures” /
young charming whores burst with love and happiness /
like flowers in heavenly meadows /
…where no foot dares to trample / and no drought can fade their beauty… /
…so light-hearted, ignorant. /
Pete’s daughter rots in a cheerless hole – no way out from the hospital bed /
granuloma increases merciless / eyes constrained to see the sand-glass /
…running up to death… / agony is inhuman, as pus flows through her veins. /
Pete stares at a wall – sometimes he feels like dying /
desperation is so revolting…
>> a taste of salt tears flowing down to the stomach /
worse than the smell of still piss in the filthiest central station’s W.C. /
sometimes he drops in a sea of darkness /
and the wall blackens, soiled with the ink of remorse. /
Water or crude oil … silence or animated void … /
nerves like a crowd of whispering masks /
corrupting the distance between man and knife. /
Pete stares at a wall – sometimes he feels like “creating” /
he paints scenes of murder, bloodshed and fury /
he makes up situations, developes a perfect screenplay /
QUARTERED CORPSES, RAZOR BLADES OPENING GUTS,
THROATS CUT SPINE-DEEP,
ALL IMAGINABLE VARIATIONS OF TORTURES,
NIPPLES SLICED-OFF WITH SHARP-EDGED GLASS,
VAGINAL IMPALATIONS, FACIAL GRAFFITI
CARVED WITH HORRIBLE INSTRUMENTS,
TENDER GIRLS RIPPED, DISMEMBERED AND HACKED TO PIECES…
FEMALE BODIES STABBED AND GUTTED
LIKE WARE ON A FISHMONGER’S SLAB,
OTHERS STRANGLED WITH CORDS,
SEVERED HEADS SMASHED WITH HAMMERS,
Words translated from Lucio Fulci’s “The NY ripper”
and from other italian movies + personal statements added:
Society = complicity between people
whose most precious patrimony is other’s freedom.
“In this city, if you don’t shine in something,
even if you’re the best, the most beautiful,
even if you’re perfect, intelligent…
you’re excluded, they won’t let you live.”
He has very refined taste, will, spirit.
He finds the true essence of things in the nuances.
“You have no imagination,
you reason by stereotypes… like a cop”
Regress, an illness that spares noone.
He sacrificed young beatiful women
to his daughter who would never become either.
“Too beautiful, I had to kill her…
but you can’t understand, you’re too dumb,
you’ll never understand.”
He loves competing and like a good chess player
never improvises, he plans every move.
“Make he suffer, make her scream”.
You leave doors half-open, you never conclude
because, basically, you’re good for nothing.
A metaphore taken to the extreme of perversion and cruelty,
that “someone who dies in a hospital bed” is the part of us that’s tied to,
trapped in distressing, nerve-wracking human relationships,
rotten with hypocrisy and impossible to avoid.
“Society is the Nr.1 executioner,
our feelings, our expectations – on the gallows”
The shard of a bottle stuck between your legs,
pulled up slowly, opens you zip-like.
Blood drips, red tears to warm my hate.
Pete the ripper is just like me,
a coincidence of stories ended badly.
A dark shape in the shadows, sharpening a knife,
contemplating the victim- waiting for the right moment… to begin.
Redeem the lack of oxygen snuffing out life,
painting on another’s skin the injustice of being born.
“NEW YORK RIPPER” (Lucio Fulci):
Misogynistic film about a duck-voiced killer who carves up women in N.Y.
Armed with a knife, broken bottle or a razor, he slits his terrified subjects
from abdomen to throat or just toys with them cutting into eyes or breasts.
Banned in many countries as a video nasty.
The largest room placed in my brain,
the absolute file – negativity.
Everything I do, everything I see
turned into hate to feed my own way to live.
NEGATIVITY TO SCAN YOUR MIND,
TO PLAY ON YOUR FEARS, THROW DOUBT UPON LIFE
..everything I do, everything I see
filtered through black spores of misanthropy.
(repeated several times)
If you think about it, you’re born dead, a certainty with no solution.
The insignificant effort of she who conceives a new number to add to the
human slaughterhouse, a starting point… a whim closed in a moment.
Coming from a fragment of sexual ethics of the integrated population,
a surrounding necessity, a step ahead
in the reinforcement of a social worm’s personality.
Sadness forever is the shadow you hide, it means “realizing”,
feeling useless is an unquestioned detail…..
yesterday, today, tomorrow…
behind every thought that bitterly humiliating beginning,
the first page says that you’re a cancer removed
from the belly of a beast that screams and suffers… “to give you joy”.
The chance to live, breathe, the colours which stand out
gradually on your horizon, feel the time as it passes by,
to love… someone – something,
to pass the cancer through bodies which incubate…
The illusion must be complete,
because it’s useless being perfect if a the end there’s no objective.
Me – accused in the centre of a room, pointed looks, deformed by prejudice,
voices echoing shrilly, noisy…
too confused to be perceived one by one and faced.
The accusation is generic, human and because of this destructive.
Walking with death on my face, depression is being forced to exist.
Thinking >> hurting yourself.
They laugh about everything, but I can’t laugh about them.
There’s no nobility, no style for anybody.
Hysterical moans becoming part of normality, a jet launched in boredom,
satisfy him or her, copulsion and paranoias twisting in the psyche.
Yet another time… this is the starting point.
Commentary – Part One:
90% of those you call “people” are nothing more that a mixture of non-classified humanoids, slow brains, way back in the evolution of things. Limneo and Darwin have fucked things up, they didn’t recognise that among the human race a further species of anthropomorphic monkey has developed… a social animal, an embezzler – but still very retarded. This is why we get the impression of being surrounded by masses of lobotomy-patients 24 hours a day; aggressive and thickheads, they invade for convenience, they follow rules, laws and traditions, consume ferociously and devastate in the name of greed. Think of the living dead in G.A. Romero’s films, then look around you… where’s the difference? The mass trams uniformally on, hungry for material things, fresh meat to tear up. The steps echo hollowly in the emptiness of a billion eyes.
Commentary – Part Two:
You who dig tranches even to safeguard your dogs kennel, then come and speak to me of solidarity, bringing down the borders… stratification in classes, the underpaid workforce, strikes, government ploys… words getting lost, absorbed in the inertia of non-changing times. You who are the anti-racist but can’t stand people who are different to you out of choice… you look me up and down like the bouncer of a highclass hotel, drugged on contradictions you call moral principles. Everyone needs their own fucking slice of power, well defined territory where they can dismember others, exercise supremacy, psychoses and existential malaise.
Cannibal after cannibal, today – everywhere. They illude and rob you.. black tunics caked in soot, centuries of burnt corpses in the shadow of crosses, cathedrals, juries and courts, ghettoes, outskirts, factories… execution lagers. The history’s carnages, not the ones they talk about at school. Today like yesterday, shops lit up with inexhaustable quantities of decomposed carcasses in the windows.
They empty you out and absorb you, they exploit you and devour you.
Don’t sit for long at table with cannibals.
You might see yourself in one of the dishes.
GOR(E)MLESS (taken from ACTIVE MINDS’ “I’m not a tourist..” EP)
“Desensitised by record sleeves – pictures of blood and gore. Severed heads, disemboweled bodies – you’ve seen it all before, so when you confront it in real life you won’t feel sick inside. It’s easier to mask the vulnerability that you try so hard to hide. Bands try to outdo each other by finding the most gory scenes – no real comprehension of what pain and suffering means. They say they’re trying to shock, but that’s just a convenient excuse for having absolutely nothing to say that’s of any use”
I remember how revolted I was when the first Carcass album was released. I thought that the idea of showing mutilated human bodies on a record sleeve simply as a form of decoration, and not to make any sort of political statement, was absolutely sickening. I was in a record shop one day, and I saw a group of kids looking at the record. There was a bunch of guys with their girlfriends – the men were all laughing at the pictures, whilst their girlfriends were obviously quite disturbed by them. It made me so angry that scenes of real human suffering were being seen as some sort of entertainment, or that they were being used by immature, adolescent males as some sort of innitiation cerimony into their macho club of guys who could look at such pictures without showing up any sort of “sissy” emotion. Carcass went on to spawn hundreds of imitation “gore” bands, with utterly ridiculous and sensationalist lyrics, who use pictures of mutilated and disfigured people to build up their own image of being aggressive and tough. It comes as no surprise to me to find that sexist and homophobic bullshit is often the next stage of “progression” in the lyrical content of some of these numbskulls. If challenged about it, some of these bands try to make out that there is some sort of point to all this violent posturing, but, in truth, there isn’t any. They just use such images to cover up the fact that they can’t think of anything else to say.
Preachy. Sanctimonious like the most inhibited, bigot censurers. And this is taken from a Hardcore record, not from a parochial pamphlet of those I find from time to time in my letter-box, thrown in by some moralistic religious fanatics. But all in all, the essence is the same. I’m rather bored with the way some bands take a stand in the current HC scene, showing up like the jury of an incontestably supreme court, a holy inquistion against those who stand out of the filanthropic, politically correct standards. Here in Italy it often happens that good bands that are somehow distant from the anarco/P.C. attitude are completely cut off from the scene, and it gets really hard for them to have their records distributed through D.I.Y. labels and have shows organized in certain places… OK, this is a different argument, but I think that it’s worth being mentioned because it’s somehow connected to what I was saying before. Personally, I am more and more persuaded that those ultra-nihlist, politically rotten PunkRock bands that made history in the ’77 era were much more genuine and creative than these boring theorists of today. You might say that all that wave of Punk ended in fashion, commercialism and junk, but isn’t this “being P.C. and clean at any cost” another trend bringing mediocrity and lack of individuality?? Will all this change something or will it only fall into dust like a pile of philosophy books in a forgotten library? Gore/Grind bands to me, are not too far from those rude, careless human rejects of the ’70s, even if most of them are coming from an extreme branch of metal and have not too much to do with Punk. But “Punk” to me is also the filth itself, so even the morbid intent of a mind that takes photos from a surgery manual or a symposium about infectious sicknesses just for fun or for decorating the cover of a record-sleeve is something filthy, sickening for those who love to be sickened. And anyway, why bothering? Where is our freedom of expression if bands attack each other for matters like this, everyone should be free to follow his own attitude and intentions, even if what they want to express is morbidity and gore. Is it so fucking obligatory to release a record only for spreading a specific political statement through it? In this way all the HC records would be more or less the same and we would hear the same old routinary slogans thousands of times. A uniformed mass for what? And besides, gore is a very original form of expression and not a “can’t think of anything else to say”. My country had a very big and interesting culture connected to horror, gore and fiction on death and murders, and I have always been very attracted and fascinated by that. It doesn’t have too much to do with bands and music, but I feel that the ideas/spirit behind Gore/Grind are very close and related to what I’m talking about. I like to be shocked to the core by things I haven’t seen before, and that’s the genuine feeling I had when I saw certain record-sleeves of the early Gore bands, when I enjoyed the sickening brutality of CARCASS and REGURGITATE or when I watched for the first times certain films focusing on truly horrorific, gross gore and sleazy expoitation subjects. I always thought that this was somehow an alternative form of expression and art, and all those who’ll think that I’m just a perverted, degenerate mind are the real “numbskulls”. As an english film-reviewer said: “I’m prepared to stand up and be counted for my taste – or lack of it – and I don’t care what anybody thinks. I never did. I want to be offended by the non politically correct. I want to see blood flow in ever more ingenious ways. I want to see new methods of murder and torture on screen. Horror is one of mankind’s greatest defences. It’s important for us all to focus on what frightens and cope with it. Watching horror and gore does not make us do horrific things. It does not affect behaviour. If that were the case I would already be a serial killer by now after the thousands of films I’ve watched. People who hide behind that argument are the intellectually and psychologically suspect ones. What they’re really out to do is squash art. They want to ban films that vent and talk about things we all hide beneath the surface – particularly the sort of inhibited and suppressed people the censors always are. None of us should forget that it was Hitler who forbade art because it was obscene and began burning books just before the began burning humans”. That’s a fucking great statement, and I think that it fits also talking of Gore bands. It’s not a matter of vulnerability to hide or of being desensitised… it’s just a different form of expression and art, related to a different mentality. And a sentence like “not to make any sort of political statement” is so bigot and arrogant… it sounds like all what’s out of the political and socially aware range it’s somehow inferior and less important. “Those who care” are the real favourite children of the scene, and they should be free to judge and spit shit on all the others, “those who differ”. And anyway, instead of wasting paper attacking bands that don’t conform to the politically correct standards, A.M. could use that space for writing something more useful, in order to save the Earth and educate the scene… this according to their mentality and spirit.