summer wars

by minus world

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05:05
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credits

released 14 August 2012

written, arranged and produced by justin macpherson wiles

produced, engineered, mixed and mastered by andrew wiseman

recorded by andrew in his mother's garage, the novalegeon basement and andrew's pad, respectively, during the winter and spring of 2012.

drums and vocals by kat williams

piano and vocals by justin

additional vocals and hand claps by the subcon chorus: bethany fulde, jordan stephens, colin boyd, malcolm baillie, andrew, kat and justin.

additional shakers and tambourine by andrew.

artwork by justin and bethany.

berserker lion music collective 2012

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minus world Halifax, Nova Scotia

MINUS WORLD STRIKES BACK

in the year 20XX, justin macpherson wiles imagined a rock group that blurred the lines between analogue and digital; caught between Bowie-esque chameleonics and the aural history of nintendo games, minus world is a unique and visionary take on music as a narrative medium, with a very healthy dose of the PURE ROCK FURY that makes their stage show an eye opener. ... more

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Track Name: summer wars
the truth is we came here before.
towered the earth, were we ruthless?
all kings and serpents;
it's as if we were starved for lies.

but this is not where you were born.
cut from materials unnoticed, yet,
all glass and focus.
so what keeps you alive? what keeps you alive?

we've all ways been blind,
all ways take what we can't keep.
what we can't seek,
we only have...

the truth is this happens before.
traced and trapped maps with intention,
but found only questions.
it's as if we were lost all along,
as if nothing were meant to be,
as if nothing were keeping you here.

lift from these hands
sacred rites of promised lands,
the promise kept to endless worlds;
endless war in search of release,
in search of truth
beyond our reach, beyond our time...

and it seems so simple to say:
'we've got our backs against those summer days,'
but if I need you to call me now,
would you call me now?
Track Name: pitchfork machine
jesus christ, I don't owe him anything;
I know him only in name.
but, we hung his picture on our wall,
put his fir tree in our den,
raised a glass and called him names;
gave a damn on boxing day.

jesu christo, your face is made of cake;
we ate you years ago,
but we put your picture in a locket so small
that we don't know where it is
and holidays aren't the same, with you around...
do you remember those bicycle days?

every day when I was young I wrote in that book
what I thought those gears were turning;
why we live so long, just to pay the rent.
and every year at this time, I read that book
just to clear the babel from my head.
now is it just me, or do you wake up
every day just to talk about the dead?

holy ghost, I love you all the same:
you don't matter to me!
oh but if things change, I'll give you a call.
your photo's close to my credit cards.
and tell me, where are all your friends?
you dared to call us a waste of your precious time...
believe me, we'll remember that day!

jesus christ, I don't owe him anything;
I know him only in name.
but, we hung his picture on our wall,
put his fir tree in our den,
raised a glass and called him names;
gave a damn on judgment day.

jesus, sir, you don't know us after all,
but I believe that you meant well.
now we paint your portrait in great halls
and pretend to give a damn
about those bullet holes in your hands.
do you remember when you were young, just a boy and not a son?