Adji (drums and shruti)
Bri (guitar)
Andy (bass)
Norman Silver (vocals)

In his white dinner jacket, doubles as a bouncer
There's a cheer as he brings out a guitar 
And he sings us a song and we all sing together, when will we see the likes again
As the wine goes in we can see he is a goner
All his friends know he hits his wife
I can recall his charms in true Eastman colour
As a child I loved his lies
Alone again in the corridor I hear the echoes and the laughter of my peers untroubled minds
But this time I'm in real trouble
Fear is a greater motivator than love
Fast forward decades and I'm back in the playground, now waiting for my son
The perfect microcosm of the British class system gather in their norms
Their day brightened by a dad on a children's scooter made for adults and someone's new dog
I pretend to look at my phone

Old Town Young Team

Adji (drums)
Bri (guitar)
Andy (bass)
Josef Baum (synth)
Mr X (samples)

You gotta stupid smile, you know that pal?
Can you see it?
Can you see it?
Can you see it?
Good!

Did you smile when the bulldozer went in over the black kids body?
Did you smile when the bodies were covered over?
Did you?

Did you smile that same stupid smile?
Did you?

Can you see it?
Good!

Did you smile when the bulldozer went in over the black kids body?
Did you smile when those bodies were covered over?
Did you?

Did you smile?
Did you?

We're gonna be here until this things finished...

Gutterblood

Mr X

Adji (drums)
Bri (guitar)
Andy (bass)
Norman Silver (vocals)
Mr X (sample)

"And let me right at the outset define what I mean by Alienation
It's the cry of men who feel themselves the victims of blind, economic forces beyond their control
It's the frustration of the great mass of ordinary people excluded from the processes of decision making
It's the feeling of despair and hopelessness that pervaids people who feel with every justification that they have no real say in shaping or determining there own destinies" (Jimmy Reid)

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times 
The punks were pulling on their boots
I was six years old on a picket line and in the evening my mother made me watch the mini series Roots
I got the jist
Well the strike went on for 9 long weeks and they had to sent the army in
Some of them died
The Green godesses were not fit for purpose and the tinder box lived right up to it's name
Well Christmas came and went, not much of an event
Our family got our picture in the Evening Times
But poverty was respectful then and most people had that wee bit of pride still...
Two years down the line it was 1979
It was the turn of the Clyde and the mines
We were told to 'retrain', 'get on your bikes', 'keep up with the times' Jesus Christ, I left school with a smile and I thought I had guile right up to my YTS 
I'll not even mention the job club
With no ships or coal you could work for your dole 
You're a wage slave but minus the wage
Not that these tasks were appealing to me, the truth be told

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times
I was pulling my boots on now 
But the revolution had long been televised 
I accept that I had missed the boat
No frigging in the rigging for me
I was doing all nighters watching the hit man and her and stealing my mothers fags
I'd attend the occasional  LPYS meeting but I found it a bit culty and I only really went because there was this girl I fancied that went, when she stopped showing up, so did I 
I'd attend the occasional demonstration
But some of my old school friends were now in the BNP
They would try and attack us
And that made me a little bit paranoid

I did find a group of friends eventually and they would drag me to anarchist meetings
But I remember getting called a 'schemie' for turning up with a bag of chips
And pretending to like Discharge was impossible but for the most determined
However I had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do 
So I did the best I could to have fun with it

That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men clearing their browser history
That's the sound of the men calling me a libtard
That's the sound of you clapping for the nurses

That's the sound of the soccer mom dropping off her psychos
With an extra clip in their pack lunch box
That's the sound of finding a sense of belonging
Somewhere you don't belong

Some people talk about a mid life crisis
Some people experience lifelong crisis

And that's the sound of the men working on the chain gang

Alienation

HALT! Who goes there?

It's me.

Who's me?

Bonnie Prince Bob.

What do you want?

I want to speak to the King.

The King? What have you to say to the King?

Well...

Hanoverian, Luciferian, Tudor, Windsor scum
Born to rule, a Royal fool, another inbred son
of the Germanic Nazi dynasty spunked from a lizard's sac
Imperial raping infamy wrapped in a Union Jack.

Your faither was a paedophile, your brother is a nonce
When Michael Fagan shagged yer ma' he shagged her mair than once
A mollycoddled imbecile festooned in golden shite
When we drag you to the guillotine the world will be alright!

T'was on a Monday morning, right early in the year
When Charlie came in to our town the crowds began to jeer
Charlie you're my darlin', my darlin', my darlin'
Charlie you're my darlin' what do you have to fear?

We rushed the Royal entourage, the King began to shout
We smashed the carriage windaes in and dragged the bastard out!
Charlie you're my darlin', my darlin', my darlin'
Charlie you're my darlin' what do you have to fear?

Hanoverian, Luciferian, Tudor, Windsor scum
Born to rule, a Royal fool, another inbred son
of the Germanic Nazi dynasty spunked from a lizard's sac
Imperial raping infamy wrapped in a Union Jack.

Summer hols with Savile and your weekends with Rolf Harris
Diana rode an Arab so you bumped her off in Paris
They say you drink the blood of bairns, I wouldnae be surprised
Your riches come from workers' toil - and that's why your despised!

That's why you're fucking despised Charlie.
Living off the fat of the land while the people slave!

Shut that cunt up for fucks' sake!!
Dinnae worry Charlie, it'll all be over soon.
Get him doon there.
Haud him by the ears.

OFF WITH HIS HEAD!

Hanoverian, Luciferian, Tudor, Windsor scum
Born to rule, a Royal fool, another inbred son
of the Germanic Nazi dynasty spunked from a lizard's sac
Imperial raping infamy wrapped in a Union Jack.

Your faither was a paedophile, your brother is a nonce
When Michael Fagan shagged yer ma' he shagged her mair than once
A mollycoddled imbecile festooned in golden shite
When we drag you to the guillotine the world will be alright!
credits

Vocals - Bonnie Prince Bob
Music - Gutterblood
Recorded @ 16OHM Studios

Gardyloo

Gardyloo featuring Bonnie Prince Bob

"This Gutterblood tune ranges between a heavy rhythmic attack that channels the Sabbath inspired rock attack of Rage Against The Machine or Prong and a more subdued head nodding interlude with a touch of emo crossing over into math rock. Guest vocalist Tom McFadyen rides the rhythm to lead you on a grim, menacing stream of consciousness" (Louder than War)

Hard Gandhi

06. New Man

The gas clicks off. - No money in the meter
The baby's crying - There's mould on the walls
She missed a meeting - Sanctioned for calpol
If the leccy goes out - She's totally fucked 
She's by herself - Nobody to trust 
The lights flicker - The telly goes black
She lights a candle - Wraps the bairn tight
On with her stockings and into the night

50 quid later - Gooch sweat profalactic
Blue flash fantastic - She’s got the cash
She left the baby - The baby wae the rash
The silence falls - No waterfalls 
The tears in her eyes - Her rights are read 
Fuck this she said - Spits on his head 
You baby snatching cunts 
She's taken to the cells
 
Soliciting for sex and assaulting an officer
Lesser sentence if you admit it they offer her
A backed in animal - A mother in distress
What she'll do next is anyones guess
Fuck you and give me my baby back 
She's gonny attack - She's bit the cunts nose 
He's screaming in agony - The fuck has she done wrong
Yous abandoned me
I had to do it for my family
Is it me or you who struggles with morality?

05. Blue Flash Fantastic

03. Soliloquy

If I was in charge 
I'd legalise the green
I'll trust a plant over a screen 
Digitalis or digital Alice 
Bring back Steve Mcqueen
And like a butterfly I'll make a great escape
I'll watch the days flutterby and tickertape the cityscape
I'm from a town with three fish in it
I've watched the tories come and dae a big pish in it 
Commons good funded or shotgunned and defunded
Either which way I'll no forget what the sun did
Who shot Willie Macrae?
Robbed his hoose and threw the gun away
This lifes a pantomime
A joke - a cabaret 
Big love to the burgh
Youz look out for one another

I've got turkey teeth and a shite fake tan
When a walk past the chapel 
They hate me I'm the man 
I’ve got 17 bellies and a sailors hat
Banging ma big drum geeing it aw that
I teach ma bairns tae hate not love
And ah fucking love Andy Goram - Smell the glove 
But a dinnae like fenians - Smelly taig fucks 
I like British tanks & soldiers - And big fuck off trucks 
Bombing Belfast like the shits for three
Derrys burning and Sands has nothing for Tea
Stockholm syndrome - Have it for free
Why the fuck no 
The King's just like me!

02. The Great Escape

Maymana Jarada she was 24
She was artistic
And she was creative
And she was studying graphic design
And she is dead
Dead
Maymana Jarada she was 24
She was murdered by Israel
Was murdered by Israel
Was murdered by Israel
And she is
Dead
Dead
Look to the sky
ZioNazi! 
ZioNazi! 
Zion-murderer!
24
24
24

01. 24

The kids need a new hero
Tommy's got a gun
Good dogs will never die
Tommy's higher than the sun

The kids need a new hero 
Tommy's got a gun
Good dogs will never die
Tommy's on the run

The kids need a new hero
Tommy's got a gun 
Good dogs will never die
Tommy shoots for fun

Have you ever seen
The way he struts
 It's obscene
He's got it all
He's got it all

The kids need a new hero
Tommy's got a gun 
Good dogs will never die
Tommy shoots for fun

Good Dogs WIll Never Die

Good Dogs Will Never Die

04. Good Dogs Will Never Die

Gutterblood are from Peebles and Leith in Scotland. Formed in 2019, Gutterblood fuse elements of indie, doom, punk, politics and spoken word - wrapped in a Scottish newspaper & driven by discontent.

Gutterblood

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