Name: A Fern Ate My Synthesizer by Substatik Recordings
Duration: 3 min 5 s
Description: When you go away for a 12 week holiday and come home only to realize that the fern has overgrown the studio and has enveloped your synthesizer.

Beyond 71

AshMode.mp3

HOT2NITE.mp3

see sparks.mp3

m1ss me .mp3

'BRK-1138' is taken from the Bricklayer double LP 'Form Over Function, Flesh Over Form', an album that tracks the life of Elliott Wave (BRK-1138) a factory drone who progressively realizes his human potential.

Music and lyrics by Benny Munday

Lyrics:

[verse]

Woke up sick
Factory shell
Dream of work
Lungs of hell
Mad machine
Access pass
Nerves of rust
Heart of glass

[verse]

Blueprint brain
Barcode face
Speak in specs
Stand in place
Breathe in code
Eat the bugs
Bleeding out
Take the drugs

[chorus]

Tried to cry
But just a ping
Contract wreaks
Of onboarding
Tried to quit
But got a raise
Optimized
For silent praise

[verse]

Bolted down
Beige nightgown
Smile real nice
Invert frown
Patch the leak
Never speak
Formwork is
Incomplete

[bridge : spoken]

Nightshift suicide in a hi-vis vest at 3am in the break-room while eating drywall dust with a spork is optional

[chorus]

Tried to cry
Was just a thing
Body wreaks
Of onboarding
Tried to quit
But got a raise
Suicide
It’s just a phase

[verse]

Therapist
Nervous tick
Born into
Schematics
HR rules
Weeding truth
Rats attack
Chipped a tooth

[chorus]

Tried to bribe
Was just a sting
Body screams
With heavy wings
Tried to shit
But got a raise
Suicide
A well-earned praise


Handbled From The Noisefloor (V/A)

BRK-1138

Taken from the upcoming Heather Garnish album, "DEVO At My Funeral", to be released on Substatik Recordings early 2026.

Lyrics:

[verse]

In the drawing room they’ve turned the chairs
All facing where she is no longer
Silver forks dance to the question mark of the life cycle
On corkscrew plates with no permission
The teapot whistling under scattered breath
About the bodies she never had
And every slice is just a guess
At why she isn’t here instead

[chorus]

The edges quake
On Mrs. Peacock’s funeral cake
The thighbones shake
For Mrs. Peacock’s funeral cake

[verse]

The icing sweats in the summer gloom
Candles bend towards the floor
A photograph in the floral frame
Keeps walking out the door
Someone’s hidden Tanqueray in the cream again
To make the sweetness lie just like
Mrs. Peacock did when she said she’d be here
And crumbs collect in little piles
And Mrs. Peacock will never walk on by

[chorus]

The edges quake
On Mrs. Peacock’s funeral cake
The thighbones shake
For Mrs. Peacock’s funeral cake

[bridge]

Some say it was poison in the custard
A cyanide dream in good sharp time
Where are all her Sunday dresses
That refused to stand in line
Now the knife rests in the butter
Waiting for her olden hand
But the only one who’s cutting cake
Is the lady with the bloody hand
[chorus]

The edges quake
On Mrs. Peacock’s funeral cake
The thighbones shake
For Mrs. Peacock’s funeral cake

[outro]

One last plate to clear away
Mrs. Peacock’s funeral cake
Still warm…
Oh
There she is

Handbled From The Noise Floor (V/A)

Mrs. Peacock's Funeral Cake

When the Reverend Horton Heat has quadruplets with a tattooed Chilango mamacita, you get The Pink Slip Daddies, Mexico's hottest psychobilly act! From the album 'Meth Test' (SUB006)

Shut Yer Trap

Wire Doll is reductionist. The songs are cut short, snapped shut, and spat back with no decoration. This band aren’t chasing nostalgia or punk revival, they just aim to be as immediate, uncomfortable, and present as is musically possible. Meeting in the juicy part of the Venn diagram where no wave swallows post punk, Wire Doll understand that it’s often the space between the notes that sets the mood, leaving nothing behind but the pulse ringing in your earholes.

Lyrics:

[verse]

Stones in a line not built to last
Counting the chips counting the cracks
Your wall is just a story your mortar lies
Your hands don’t know what your tongue implies

[verse]

Keep it cold edge and it cuts my palm
Keep the story short keep it calm
The floor shakes but the cabal decides
Who gets buried and who survive

[chorus]

Lithics
We don’t fit your plan
Lithics
Dry rock breaks the hand
Lithics
Stacked without your say
Lithics
Watch history roll away

[verse]

Frame’s out of square you measure wrong
Your dirty blueprint ain’t our song
Kick in the level the plumb line snaps
The earth works in ruins we’ll fill the gaps

[chorus]

Lithics
We don’t fit your plan
Lithics
Dry rock breaks the hand
Lithics
Stacked without your say
Lithics



Lithics

Lyrics:

[verse]

Third in the queue four ahead of me is a man with no teeth
Yells something about tuna being better value than salmon
I’m not here for bloody advice
I’m here because I don’t know where else to bloody be

[chorus]

Napalm

[verse]

Woman behind the counter won’t look at my face because I spilled Monster on the floor
Man behind he didn’t spill a thing and now he’s being served before me
Radio’s too loud and no one reacts
I’m here because I don’t know where else to bloody be

[chorus]

Napalm

[verse]

Little kids argue about vape flavors and who stole the salt and vinegars
One of them drops his phone and the others laugh because they’re kids
A pigeon slaps a window and one kid stop laughing
I’m here because I don’t know where else to bloody be

[chorus]

Napalm

[verse]

Man in a tracksuit runs towards something that will never be there
Says he’s dating again and needs to be fit for the birds for the Tinder
He’s fast and I say good luck
I’m here because I don’t know where else to bloody be

[chorus]

Napalm

[verse]

That last bite of tuna was bloody cold and because I’m in public I don’t want to spit it out
The flesh rolls along my tongue but I can’t swallow so I sip a lager and crisis averted
Stupid bloody fish good value my arse
I’m here because I don’t know where else to bloody be

[chorus]

Napalm


Greg's Napalm

When you go away for a 12 week holiday and come home only to realize that the fern has overgrown the studio and has enveloped your synthesizer.

Buy Album

A Fern Ate My Synthesizer

Built from tape hiss and poverty… Substatik Recordings is an independent label dedicated to raw, uncompromising music from the edges — punk, metal, jazz, dub, garage, experimental, and beyond.

Founded in 2016 and rooted in a DIY ethos, the label supports artists who operate outside the margins, prioritizing authenticity over polish.

We aim to amplify voices that might otherwise be lost in the noise.

A Fern Ate My Synthesizer

Substatik Recordings

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