Thread

by Great Apes

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about

Vinyl with download code available here:
asianmanrecords.storenvy.com/products/2248467-great-apes-thread-lp

The lyrical material on Thread was inspired by and pieced together from written conversations and interviews with close friends. The individuals who contributed spun narratives based on their own experiences and/or expressed their ideologies regarding subject matter they deemed important. Essentially, each song represents a different person. Without the contributions of these friends, this record wouldn’t be what it is.  In consideration of their willingness to candidly share their stories and beliefs, and more importantly, their friendship, we would like to thank the following people: Jacy, Kevin, Emily, Luke, David, April, Tyler, Bryan, and Danica. The last song on the record, Thread, is intended to pay homage to the patchwork of our community of friends and loved ones, and the binds that come with them. We are grateful to have you in our lives.

credits

released September 17, 2013

Great Apes
:
Brian Moss: guitar and vocals

Rob Carter: guitar and vocals

Matthew Kadi: drums

Ryan Marshall: bass and vocals

Our friend Josh Staples provided additional backup vocals on this recording.

Thread was recorded over the course of four days at The Atomic Garden in East Palo Alto, CA in June 2013. Jack Shirley engineered, mixed, and mastered the record.

Photography by Matthew Kadi
Type and Layout by Josh Staples

Additionally, we would like to thank our families, Leslie Hampton, Mike Park, Adam Gecking, David Tighe, the Mason brothers, Kevin McCracken, Jon Schmitt, Josh Kuntz, Jack Shirley, Josh Staples, Thee Parkside, Bottom of the Hill, V.L.H.S., Marty Ploy, Scott Alcoholocaust, Punch n’ Pie Productions, MP Productions, Katie Pedreira, Avi Ehrlich, Chris Donovan, Richard Gill, Hilary Davis, Travis Hayes, Tim Reeder, Arin Sarkissian, Arsenio Santos, Isaac Cornejo, Seth Baab, Skyler Jackson, Jeff Hendrix at Crockett Tubs Percussion, Bradley Watkins, Kickflip the Cat, The New Trust, Monster Squad, Daikon, Know Your Saints, Sundowner, Build Us Airplanes, Bastards of Young, Civil War Rust, Street Eaters, Jabber, Turkish Techno, All Eyes West, Canadian Rifle, Cash Crop, Rush and Attack, Wild Moth, Ruleta Rusa, Hawaiian Punch, and Shinobu.

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Great Apes San Francisco, California

Insert hype-up descriptors here. Plain and simple, San Francisco's Great Apes are a lyrical punk band. Music, much like a bio, is often at its best when it’s spit out intensely and quickly, with concision and honesty.

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Track Name: Seventeen Years
seventeen years of a home where ever I steer

a wander addict can’t quit – the people that risk

it’s a bond in a bail out

we’re carving a new route

through an old parched path - we’re cutting swath

through a jungle of shit



we sit silent and alone

in the green grass dichotomy

elated and unknown

in the thankless debt of false autonomy



an unseen reason – recognition or subtle treason

the warm abuse or some excuse to keep ourselves unbound

the sake of art / the song of farce

a whispered echo when we’re gone

the instrument of sage descent

and all the deaf ears it falls on…



we sit silent and alone

in the green screen dichotomy

elated and unknown

in the thankless debt of false autonomy



what about love?

that’s one hell of a weapon



seventeen years in the murk of the ether

what’s to show what can we sow

from the strain of sound?



what about love?

that’s one hell of a weapon

Track Name: Arms of Catastrophe
thirteen with strained seam
s
hidden wounds open wide

we hit dad’s stash at the eighth grade dance

the bliss of a kiss – peel skin, drink it in 
the new
found confidence of recklessness and romance



with friends boundaries bend

dig dim to ascend

we found a way to never feel bad again

black need slow seethes

consumed and naïve

great escapes collapsing into dead ends



some hazy amnesia – we’ll call it fun

tying off when we come undone

snake oil fixes breaking tearing

we could care less about who’s caring



destroyer – venom revelry

a death dance – the arms of catastrophe

eraser – an anesthetic blockade

a needle – quack toxic surgery to hack out the memory



we bleed to the pleas of mutes bearing truth

you’ll get no recourse from a refugee that’s half-dead

amiss in the drift – without name and shameless

this lightless altar – a hospital bed



spit up in the alley – drenched in disease

through the S.F. fog comes clarity

calm in the rubble of quaking city

compassion curing – sweet Saint Pity 



destroyer – venom revelry

a death dance – the arms of catastrophe

eraser – an anesthetic blockade

a needle – quack toxic surgery to hack out the memory

Track Name: Yellow Ribbon
I can’t support 

one single troop

when the organs splinte
r
it’s never done in truth

it’s all profiteering - colonial spawn

not a lack of education

or ignorance’s bliss

you sign the line you gotta know…



I’m not naïve enough to think we can do without, but…

until our forces are as small as can be

and until we save more lives than we take

I won’t fly your yellow ribbon stained red



hail to the heroes – harbingers of death and terror

there’s no threat to protect

freedom’s just a word that blindly holds their faith

there’s no threat to protect

I’m not proud of where I’m from

patriotism bleeds supremacy

when we start thinking like global citizens

they’ll be no need for militarism
Track Name: Everything is Everything
fear your future?

captivity in waste?

oh mortality, I won’t settle in haste

prescribed to a life with a finite ending

they’ll be no after mending…



strife in balance:

risk and safety

in love with time, who else deserves me? 



when the bind it beckons you, spit it jagged / tell it true

when you give until you break, take stride in mistake

but save room for fate / gouge out your space

expand your roll/ control is a fantasy


we’re drops in the rapids, you and me


pin in the middle - horizon in chains

oh duality, I won’t settle in strain

when it’s raw and real some will stray away

panic to progress?

or take comfort in decay?


strife in balance:

weigh the give and take

slivers of movement, defined in bliss and ache



when the bind it beckons you, spit it jagged / tell it true

when you give until you break, take stride in mistake

but save room for fate / gouge out your space

expand your roll/ control is a fantasy

we’re drops in the rapids, you and me
Track Name: The Fine Art of Holtzing
no vendetta on humanity

it's about making memories

choose action over normalcy

push progress bending boundaries

stagnate in redundancy 

the worthless goo of complacency 

change culled in rivalry

crass wrath evolutionary


species: a fluke in chance

If you ain't thrashin' with passion, why even dance?


brief and bland, life’s a killer

all shock, no flat-lined filler

I want it filthy, raw, and sweaty

with no value placed upon the petty



intelligence in tolerance

the royalty takes the least offense

the status quo captor enemy 

the taboo always sets me free



species: a fluke in chance

If you ain't thrashin' with passion, why even dance?

in consequence and raging glory, 

anything at all for the sake of story
Track Name: Vial of Life
with teenage parents in

the Northeast’s winter teeth

a child dressed in bruises 

neglect’s sweat soaking sheets 
 


mother’s resenting eyes 

father’s fumbling hands

petal fallen to storm
-
cast out to barren lands



exhaust emaciated frame

cement bed of recess yard

fall lapsing into coma white

wake to fifth grade cards

they put a price tag on my vial of life

my breath is profit, not a basic human right

all of the days spent monitoring in fear…

I live for my brother and the people I hold dear

needle pointing compass

navigating veins

all paths plagued in sugar 

dizzy missing frames



death hides in my shadow

tugging swollen feet

Christmas skin – jab it in

mother’s sending sweets

survival assembly line

patient demoralized in care

tied up and strangled by 

the red ticker tape of our health fare

they put a price tag on my vial of life

my breath is profit, not a basic human right

all of the days spent monitoring in fear

I live for my brother and the people I hold dear…
Track Name: The Edge of the Western World
a validation, repose, a homage

the greatest times are not ornate

sometimes I forget they are serene moments where

history and future draw a line through present on a city street



it’s happening tonight 

driving a taxi sitting on the beach in dark



“well, this isn’t going to make you rich,” he says

“surround yourself with the wealthy and play golf.”

(and I know he’s right) that this life won’t pay

the spare cab lurches and bounces down 

Marina to Diamond Heights



I sit the stoic therapist because I have nothing to say

and at end of session he’s in tears - oh, the ruin of his life



I choose relative poverty

and the sound of the ocean

the waves crash, but I can’t see them through

the fog that blankets the edge of the western world



glass towers give way to pastel cubes out here

American thought pushed to the water on wagon trains

rail lines and ships – steam rollers will make you mad



I will be here again and again

I will always hear the waves, but I will never see them crash

the city at sleep: empty boulevards and wisps of fog in wind

memories of love gone



and the promise of loves to come

intersection, hope, goodnight



I choose relative poverty

and the sound of the ocean

the waves crash, but I can’t see them through

the fog that blankets the edge of the western world

Track Name: Withering Heights
knives trace the ribs

inking porcelain blood

bed of languish,

with a blade in the lobe

the seriated parasite -

the gnawing unknown

in this withering body,

breathes expansive youth

letters to family - there’s no divinity

the universe isn’t god’s,

it’s randomly serene

test batteries / failed remedies

these passing particles

will be reabsorbed and seen

the parting partner

to have and hold in only health.

a hollow remission

of normality masked



then love like a whirlwind -

a purpose and home

in your arms I crumble.

the hips rot out (this again)



doused in pain and pills / sleepless in chills

on sticks at twenty six,

bones searing every day 

scalpels through the skin / they’re fusing metal in 

emerging bathed in sun 

oh, the rebirth of decay

now new fears rise:

how can I provide

incandescence and a life worth loving for?

in debt and in support,

I will not abort

you are my worry now,

and I don’t worry anymore
Track Name: San Quentin
an off-white blemish on a perfect palette of blues

sea green converging with Marin money hues



Tamalpais looks downward upon the wealth-exempt wound

500 acres with a con in every room 



while the sun-soaked saunter smiling through Northgate Mall

breathing grey specters sickly scratch cell walls



Samaritans of privilege spewing script liberal speak 

wretched truth on the Bay’s edge - oh, the ease in turning cheek 



it’s not human if we don’t have to look



in death’s glowing chamber, stone cage to stone plaque

window watching strangers witness life unpacked



under a redwood halo comes love and regret

sinner self-forgiveness while the saint freely forgets



if there’s a problem, we’ll lock it up





devaluation - the slow strain on the core

treatment by covering the sore

demonization enables error without remorse

systemic - avoidance of the source
Track Name: Thread
I’m a loyalist, baby

the roots to the tree

I stick in when the torrent rages

won’t you sway with me 



giving incinerator – born in your side

we got a thirst for better or worse

let’s drink it dry



when ambition’s missing

when fog fills my eyes

jolt me with the shove of love

guide me in ties

we’re all shepherds, baby

we don’t need no gods

we embrace that fleeting grace

and find beauty in flaws 



we got trajectory

out of the factory…

when your will wrinkles weary and worn

when the hours pull taught and torn

I will sew your pattern into me

weaving the chaos in close company



when the blanket of days wears thin

cover me in warmth again

without you, the seams pull apart

the thread to the fabric – the sum of all parts

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