Crimson Deluxe

by Blood Red Renaissance

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"Forceful, moving, more than a little offbeat, and quite catchy as well, ‘Crimson Deluxe’ is an excellent album." -James Brazel (dB Magazine)

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released October 16, 2008

CRIMSON DELUXE
Music by BLOOD RED RENAISSANCE
Lyrics by MATTHEW R. DAVIS

Produced by Blood Red Renaissance
Engineered and mixed by Owen Gillett
Recorded June-October 2008 @ SAE Adelaide, Asian Delights (Somerton Park) and Nannahaus (Brighton)
Assistant engineers: Andrew Noll and BRR
Mastered by Andy Walters and Owen Gillett @ Bell Tone
Sleeve art and photography by Matthew R. Davis
Kujo photo by Tom Kilsby
Band photography by Helen Wise

MATTHEW R. DAVIS: vocals, basses, electric & acoustic guitars, samples, theremin, keyboards
TOM KILSBY: drums, electric & acoustic guitars, backing vocals
PAUL HUTCHINSON: electric guitars, backing vocals
OWEN GILLETT: keyboards, vocals, additional guitars
With
KORALLINNE CHANDLER: female vocals
STUART EARL: alto saxophone
And the SACK LORD CHOIR: Ducka D, Tomyk, 69HutchieMFC, Ben Ewens

FOR KUJO

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Track Name: Fearless Leader
FEARLESS LEADER. Well it’s about time we stopped walking on the cloven feet of sheep and played for keeps, ‘cause wolves feed on the meat of the meek, eat the weak. Time marches on, our sun beats upon the bleaching bones of human stepping stones and fiends suck on the marrow of the freaks – life is cheap. Hail the pestilent elect, a gleaming puppet of neglect – but some won’t be crucifixed, picketing the slick religious tricks; we put the truth to a beat and kick the fuckers in the teeth – one, two, three. Fuck you! I am not a slave. Free thinker from the cradle to the grave. Fuck off! I will not be tamed. I got soul and a motherfuckin’ brain. I am not a slave. I will not be saved. Fuck you! I won’t be contained. You’d have to put a fuckin’ bullet in my brain. I used to have great expectations like Dickens, but every day the plot thickens and sickens. I’m Frank Sinatra/Jean-Paul Sartre, doin’ it my way with an existential migraine. I create, does that make me a god or just another filthy ape? Liberate liberature! Join a culture, not a cult! Time to wake and rattle chains like zombies hungry for fresh brains. Keep the fight alive – protest and survive, evolve and thrive. Put the truth on CD and kick the fuckers in the teeth – one, two, three. Fuck you! I am not a slave. Free thinker from the cradle to the grave. Fuck off! I will not be tamed. I got soul and a motherfuckin’ brain. I am not a slave. I will not be saved. Fuck you! I won’t be contained. You’d have to put a fuckin’ bullet in my brain, blow me away. Sometimes I think we should be extinct.
Track Name: Days Of Desperation
DAYS OF DESPERATION. Smiles pasted over panic. Dreams of drowning under static. Drinking, smoking, crashing, choking. Armour broken, fingers poking. Just scrabbling for a safe grip, just babbling all the same shit. Just scribbling in the margins, just dribbling on the carpet. Excuse follows excuse, indulging a sweet noose. Too smart for the mainstream, stone heart as the daydream dies… These goddamn days of desperation drag, will they never end? Like I’m wriggling on a hook, screaming – life is hard, and if I seem somewhat scarred, well, I fuckin’ am! Each day is another blade, sweetly – Smiles pasted over panic. Mundane magic, champagne tragic. Just looking for some new tricks, just cooking up a quick fix. Just bleating in the darkness, just bleeding regardless. Excess follows excess, in search of completeness. Too weird for the pop tarts, all those with a free heart – rise… These goddamn days of desperation drag, will they never end? Like I’m wriggling on a hook, screaming – life is hard, and if I seem somewhat scarred, well, I fuckin’ am! Each day is another blade, sweetly – Exploding from my skin again – the fuckin’ sharks are closing in, again. Black eyes without soul – bled white and yet they still circle me! Forever am I lost at sea – it’s sink or swim for me, oh yeah… yeah… Look at ‘em go, them strollin’ bones – all wrapped in flesh and good to go. So innocent and gullible and ripe for the rape, little knowing it’s the sharks that built the cage. You ask, “Why can’t we all be rich?” Well, there’d be too much butch and not enough bitch. They break us in, then keep us broke – shit, ain’t life great? Oh yeah… yeah… These goddamn days of desperation drag, will they never end? Like I’m wriggling on a hook, screaming – life is hard, and if I seem somewhat scarred, well, I fuckin’ am! Each day is another blade, sweetly – aw, fuck!
Track Name: The Libertine
THE LIBERTINE. So many girls, so little time. Would that every one could just once be mine! So many worlds across space and time! I would know them all and make their pleasures mine. I have taken every vice and twisted it to serve my purpose. I abstain from nothing except abstinence itself – it’s worthless. I have seen the perils of privation and it terrifies me – as I walk this earth hoping there’s still something left to surprise me. Sweet liberty – is ecstasy! Heaven is the perfect promise, you’ll never know that it’s been broken… and Hell is just a hollow threat, so get your minds and legs wide open! Those who claim that we are sinners sleep in dusty sheets of dogma and wither on the bough, delicious fruits ignored for sake of honour. No afterlife – so celebrate the flesh while it’s still ripe and come seize the night! So many girls, so little time. Would that every one could just once be mine! So many worlds across space and time! I would know them all and make their pleasures mine – mine! So many girls, so little time. Would that every one could just once be mine! So many worlds across space and time! I would know them all and make their pleasures mine. Sweet liberty is ecstasy, is ecstasy, is ecstasy!
Track Name: I Am The Violence
I AM THE VIOLENCE. I come from out of nowhere, and that’s where I’m heading. I have no sense, no rhyme nor reason – yet you’ll dance for me. I am the mob mentality, waving the flaming torches. I am the violence. I am the air raid siren song playing the pied piper. I am the violence. I have no face, no needs, no desires, no heart that can be stilled. I have no hands, no rage, no compassion, no blood that can be spilled. I am as useless as a knife without the hand to wield it. I am the trigger, but you are the finger – we each need the other. I am the red right hand of law. I am the true pornography. I am the violence. I am the cancer in your soul. I am the homegrown alien. I am the violence… and I am nothing without you… and I am nothing without you.
Track Name: Velvet Hammers
VELVET HAMMERS. The only problem with doing your own thing is you’ve gotta do it on your own. My words are feeble blows, mere velvet hammers that pound so softly on these skins of stone. All my thoughts are cans of worms; I force them down and my stomach churns. If you expect me to hold this back, then you should know I never will – if you know me at all. What’s the point in promoting peace through war? Behind closed doors, these madonnas are oil whores. I’d like to bomb the whole globe with white doves. If there’s one word to save my world, it’s love. The only constant is inconsistency, but I persist ‘cos hope is not dead yet. Their words are placebos, prescription bullshit. A bandaid will not help to set these bones. Fury fires produce sad smoke; I suck it down and my spirit chokes. If you expect age to quench these flames, then you should know it never will – if you know me at all. I stand tall. What’s the point in promoting peace through war? Behind closed doors, these madonnas are oil whores. I’d like to bomb the whole globe with white doves. If there’s one word to save my world, it’s love. You’ll never call, you’ll never fall for me; in fractured heavens, you’re bored but happy. You came across as something more – but then, the untouchable’s easier to adore…
Track Name: Oh, Sweet Irony!
OH, SWEET IRONY! Once had this girl I thought I’d marry; we were damaged goods, but we were happy. Then he came and took her away from me. Life is such sweet irony, for I have become that very motherfucker – did what he’s done, played someone for a sucker. He stole my dove, now I steal creature kisses; now I’m in love with someone else’s missus too. Oh – oh – oh – oh – oh, sweet irony! That girl, she wanted my baby; I said, “Not now, but later… maybe.” She got pregnant as soon as she left me! Life is such sweet irony, for he has become a literal motherfucker – did what I’d done, pumped live rounds when he stuck her. Cut me in half, now he’s once more a father. Now I can laugh, ‘cause I know where I’d rather be. Oh – oh – oh – oh – oh, sweet irony!
Track Name: The Algebra Of Need
THE ALGEBRA OF NEED. He sees her slipping away a little further with each day… but I cannot bring myself to pull the sword out from his heart. Well, it seems to me the algebra of need dictates if you love something more than you love yourself, then you’d fight for it and you’d die for it – and if you don’t, you never deserved it. Love can be ruthless when there’s so much at stake – never give a sucker an even break. Hold tight to what you’ve got or prepare to lose the lot. It’s unfair, but such is life and we’ve all been there. Cold hands will pick the locks when these needy hearts are hot. It’s warfare, take no prisoners – we dare not care… we dare not care! His demons are running up on him but he dare not give them a name… and I cannot bring myself to tell him that they bear my face. Well, it seems to me the workplace agreement dictates if you slack off, then you will lose your position. Now I’ve fought for this, and you have brought this upon yourself, and hence you deserve it. Vampires are everywhere, so sharpen your stakes. The grass is always greener, but beware of the snakes. Hold tight to what you’ve got or prepare to lose the lot. It’s unfair, but such is life and we’ve all been there. Cold hands will pick the locks when these needy hearts are hot. It’s warfare, take no prisoners – we dare not care… Well, it seems to me that I should be sorry – and I am, but I love her and she’s in my arms. Hold tight to what you’ve got or prepare to lose the lot. It’s unfair, but c’est la vie and we’ve all been there. Cold hands will pick the locks when these needy hearts are hot. It’s warfare, take no prisoners – we dare not care!
Track Name: Suture Self
SUTURE SELF. I am not wounded, I am a wound – bleeding out every day from the womb to the tomb. I used to cross myself with silvered cuts; I bear the scars to this day from her thoughtless touch. That vermilion liquor must have clouded my mind… like Bathory, she grew more beautiful by the pint. Blind drunk and bled dry, I collapsed in a ditch. “Suture self,” she said, and threw me a stitch. I know the bloodthirsty needs in the hearts of all lovers – so romantic, the way we feed on each other. I know a wound will become a scar, but scars last forever – older, wiser, but always feeling what we had together… I borrow from tomorrow to burn bright tonight – and why not? All meat machines must wind down and die. She demands donations and I’m keen to transfuse, but she taps my veins so much, I’m a walking bruise. Her teeth in my neck as I reach for the stake. To be free is sometimes the hardest choice to make. Salty blood stinging as I open the cut – “Suture self,” she cries, and I sew it shut. I know the bloodthirsty needs in the hearts of all lovers – so romantic, the way we feed on each other. I know a wound will become a scar, and scars last forever – older, wiser, but always feeling what we had together… Euphoria, so fleeting – the little deaths we chase. Intoxicating memory, so crystal – the sex, the skin, the things that bring the blood… How quickly scarlet can become a scar – it’s over now, amber’s calling me from the bar. The blood on my hands has dried but won’t wash away… and now I can’t tell who was feeding and who was the prey. I know the bloodthirsty needs in the hearts of all lovers – so romantic, the way we feed on each other. I know a wound will become a scar, and scars last forever – older, wiser, but always feeling what we had together… a phantom limb that’s better severed, to remain beautiful forever…
Track Name: Born With Bloodied Hands
BORN WITH BLOODIED HANDS. Born with bloodied hands – carnivore children conform. Torn between two lies – hypocrisy stains us all. Raised to rape this land – jackboot tradition ensured. Praised for playing lambs – silently put to the sword… killing the ones who trust us. And silicon(e) sirens are singing, “Greed is good!” A sacred trust, betrayed by us – children left to bleed to death. Our will be done, we eat our young – and ignorance feeds off itself… right! Torn by bloodied fangs – computer children comply. Pawns to sacrifice – helping us to live this lie. Crazed by culture shocks – dazzled acceptance of fate. Braised, our darling steaks – gratefully we lick our plates… wasting the ones who’ll save us. And cynical sirens are singing, “Greed is good, good is bad, want for things you can never have. Don’t resist – just exist. Keep consuming and make us rich!” A sacred trust, betrayed by us – children left to bleed to death. Our will be done, we eat our young – and ignorance feeds off itself. And ignorance feeds off itself…
Track Name: A Hymn For Humanity
A HYMN FOR HUMANITY. Colours rich and bright comprise the warp and weft of the weave. Fingers pick away, demanding monochrome – lunacy! Year by year our amity falls prey to enmity. Love, once proud, has been sold out, stripped down and sold off. Where I see rainbows, they see only mud. Killing and dying for lies liars spoke – oh, what a weird and wild wonderful world we wander, years ahead of our time, dying. And yet to find any answer from the skies, divine or otherwise, blind and deaf and dumb we wait. Cultures clash like cymbals of a toy monkey – irony. Fingers on red buttons pray to air, awaiting their epiphanies. Fearing fear, our amity falls prey to apathy. We worship cold industry, sold out and laid off. God and Satan are Punch and Judy: badly-stitched puppets on a sly human hand – and wonders all we waste, wilfully waging these wars, one step ahead of our crimes, denying. And yet to find any answer from the land, from woman or man, why… to let our world die is just insane. Please don’t let our efforts be in vain. Blind and deaf and dumb and brought undone, our race is thrown and lost. Why are we whoring our planet to these captains of sick industry? Whoring our planet to these captains of sick industry – heresy! To let all hope die is just insane. Please don’t let our efforts be in vain…
Track Name: The Night Inside
THE NIGHT INSIDE. Oh my love, I have seen such things as would mortify you – projected on the back of my eyes, this theatre of debauchery. These silver screens have shown me such things as would horrify you – uncut fantasies so torrid; horrid visions haunt me. I deny the night inside, dark desires as old as time. There’s a strength that comes with love… but I fear it’s not enough. All my life, I have done good things for both friends and strangers – giving of myself so freely, doing as I would have done. But my love, I have thought such things as would terrify you – a dead-eyed rage that sleeps in my blood, this killer that yearns to be free… free. Every once in a while, the shackles slip from eager wrists and self-indulgence is the only law that does exist. Sex and death and blood and breath – the needs of flesh will never rest. Culture is nothing but the repression of biology – tear away the thin veneer and see the beast in you and me. Sex and death and blood and breath, the primal right of violence. The bite, the kiss, the fight, the fist – the bottom line is always this: “Free me!” If you would love me, then know these things – feel the darkness in me. See the savage behind my smile and take me deeper just the same. All my life, I have tried so hard, and I’ll keep on trying to keep the beast beneath the trapdoor – but there are no guarantees…