released May 12, 2016

Recorded, mixed and mastered by Mr Nick Howiantz at Brixton Hill Studios.
Arran Goodchild - Drums & percussion
Chaz Foster - Bass
Jason Powdrill - Vocals, guitars & percussion
Lawrence Rice - Guitars & bongos
George Cleghorn - Saxophone
Matt Chilton - Keys

Cover layout and design by Lawrence Rice
Cover photo by Kaspar Kamu, from the 'Harry Dean Stanton' video produced by Kirsten Brandt

Link to Harry Dean Stanton video:

vimeo.com/165006163/recommended

Link to Butcher of Rome Video produced by Chris Nicholls:

youtu.be/6rTmHrW6-Jg

"maybe one day there'll be some physical copies, then you'll have something to hold onto when the lights go out....."

Plant potters and future coppers,

I COME TO YOU FROM THE FUTURE.

When clock hands will eventually bend outwards.
When the lesions of mankind finally burst
Like unfathomable oil drums dancing
A bombay mix of phantom power,
poorly aimed righteousness and
half-buried respect.
It shall cover everything.

When God is a shorter walk than the abattoir
But everyone drives.
The mouth of the city pouts a
Lipsticked "No"
To all those driven in.

When The buildings hang like the curtains
That segregate the VIPs from the mere mortals.
The gutter is the nearest thing
A kid gets to a Milkybar.
Education is being hit with a heavy book.

When The Sun beams like pleated Uranium
Served up as a precaution.
You can hear the Genetics
Hung up in bars like
Crotchets suction-cupped
Onto barbed wire.

When Entertainment is just
Witchcraft versus Grayscale
Performed nightly
You pay for the tickets
But you're already in it.

When History is for those
Old enough to forget
Or too young to remember
It's like an old fashioned lock
On a toilet door
marked "Vacant"

Only a few are unaware
That they can still recall
The Bridport Dagger
Heaving like Arcadian love machines
On a stage someplace near where
Gog and Magog
Now skyscrape awkwardly.

How they took us dowsing
Along hidden tributaries
Booked Travelodges
With our blackest thoughts
When the pills were too expensive.

How they would call out the
Pervert lurking in our fairytales
Who we'd always mistook
For the onsite paramedic

How they would whip up
A snowstorm
Of broken bottle glass
With their bare hands and tongues
And it would look so beautiful!

Only a few can remember
The Bridport Dagger
But even fewer can remember
How the Bridport Dagger
Foresaw our future
So Goddamn perfectly.

It’s in your bloody hands now. DON'T FORGET!

I’ve a Eurostar to catch,

SVEIN EINARSSON, May 2016.