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Thornbush

by Bog art

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1.
I lead a life of repetition, See through walls and dreams preset In vain I try to find a reason It hurts for a while but then you forget This game of force and imitation Intimidation and brain blank Can help you live a little longer But who wants to live in a small fish tank Wet is my skin, my heart and my soul Tears disappear as I stroll in my bawl Sometimes I feel like a suicidal goldfish Swimming in a circle, the same ol’ circle every time See, my memory’s short but I’m keeping a good file It’s a small neighborhood and I move around and around and around Same pictures, same smell and no sound I’m tired of watching being watched Unable to interact, hide or react Chained forever in a daily routine A slowly dying submarine Time is running out! I got only one chance, I must make it count There goes nothing! I say ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, I’m OUT I’ m down on the floor now, free at last White tiles, and stark lies, I’m sinking fast I swim in the dark now, I got no clue where I’m heading I follow a light beam through the end of the night It may be the answer to all of my questions A tunnel leading to the other side Or it may be a hole, a hole on the ice Where an eskimo’s fishing, whispering lies over lies…
2.
On my porch I found her, shaking cold I tried to warm her, with my breath and my coat Beauty run on her face like a beaten dog Her body it shivered leaning against my door While a curtain of hair was hiding a tear or more The ever breaking girl, full of cracks and bruises Dangerous as lust, she's only fading fast Fingers on her lips, soft and wet, cover little teeth Sharp white teeth, pearls of grief They slice my thoughts, hanging by her smile Freezing time, for more than just a while She's afraid of heights and empty spaces Afraid of people, but not of me Afraid of loneliness and losing her own traces She wears only blue and blue, blue must be the key Dripping from her chin a sad neglected scene Of careless passers by, reaching through her eye Stealing from her mind and leaving her behind The ever breaking girl, full of fear and duties Never walking on air, she's just standing there I hold her in my arms and softly I hum Words that mean nothing but can do no harm And when she smiles, I know, I'll break her in the end If we could just, just like this remain Freezing time….
3.
I’ve always kept a distance from you, Lord But now you keep on knocking on my door You must be going crazy if you think That I will roll a rock to hear you sing Your angels are strumming through their harps I hate their mellow hearts My ears are bleeding LOVE! Jesus, Jesus, Jesus don’t you call my name I close my eyes and mumble till I sleep Still I hear you crying, hear you weep You got a way to talk me into things Then disappear and leave me tied in strings And there I dance, a puppet made of flesh An innocent confess, oh man you’re such a prick! Jesus, Jesus, Jesus don’t you call my name, Oh, stop! You whisper of a mission I must take And though I’m sure it’s all a big mistake I’m reaching out, accept your humble crown And touch the face that Judas kiss let down The thorns they must have got inside my brain For one more time I think I might say “Yes” A substitute of you I cannot be Your daddy beamed you up and set you free You say that he would do the same for me I don’t think that it’ s wise to wait and see So, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus don’t you call my name Don’t wanna go pole dancing on your cross Like all those men who loved you at their loss Your deep blue eyes they make me wanna scream I pray to no one it’s all just a dream But then how come I hear the banging of the nails and feel the pain that hails another crucifix
4.
High 03:19
Hey little girl check this out If you know what I mean I can make you shout I can wrap the night all around the moon I can melt your heart in a spoon Now, don’t you worry my pretty one See how I’m riding on the back of a swan His neck is long, his feathers white Full of dust to make it all right I can pick you up, Turn you on, Get you high, And moan! You’ ll need no crack, no cocaine No heroine, no LSD, No more of things that bind There’s no drug like an open mind Close your eyes of blue and green Take a deep deep breath and hold it in Till your lungs they burn and you wanna scream Waking inside a dream I’m little worried you might get confused Or even feel you’re being used Every story is just another lie Invented to mess up your mind
5.
Doreen 05:20
Here comes Doreen, Opening way through a crowd A killer on high heels, with an ass so perfect, so round A machine of revenge, That the devil created one night A bait on a hook, Oh, I got no choice, no choice, I’ll bite And I want her, I know I can’t have her But baby I don’t care, baby I don’t care I need her, I feel like falling My heart is boiling, hot, hot, boiling Here comes Doreen, In her fine black lace Full of holes I could fill And caves to hide my disgrace It may only be me, But I think her smile is real And that knife on my chest It turns to make me feel Now I hold her, I know I can’t keep her But I’m moving deeper, so much deeper She’s mine, at least for tonight Tomorrow I won’t mind, no, I won’t mind Her body is full of tattoos Names and faces of lovers she’s used A patchwork of stories gone wrong Still just like ink butterflies There to remind everybody There to warn.
6.
The Clown 05:56
I’ve been working in no circus, but it seems that somehow I used to feed on smiles and sweet laughing sound The clown is no longer around My big shoes I have hung on nails of sober rust My red nose in a drawer I locked and run out fast The clown is no longer around My jokes I kneel and bury in cemeteries at night And for my clothes of colours sad beggars only fight A grey suit now I’m wearing, a white shirt and a tie I never smile at strangers, I make your children cry The clown is no longer around My neighbors they dislike me, they laugh behind my back The say I’m a loser and wait until I crack I’m sleeping in my closet, I get along with pills To get away from nightmares, not even daylight kills The clown is no longer around My clownish past is fading, I feel normal, almost clean Still looking for ways of removing the white paint from my skin My face forever maked up, betrays a shameful past Ridiculously showing and stained by thick blue dust The clown is no longer around
7.
A young man was preaching on a warm summer day, up on a hill by a tree He paused for a moment, looked up in the sky and he knew what his future would be He smiled at his people, they smiled back at him and he almost felt the heat Of the sun on his back and the weight of the cross that he’d carry up on Calvary Seth and his wife lived a hard life, five children and nothing to eat Prayed to God for help from above in a hut at the side of the street They used words like “mercy” and “love” till one day they were sent They woke up to find in absolute fright that three of their young ones were dead An old man whose name I cannot recall was begging down in a square He cried out for money cursing the world, said it’s all so unfair Till a security van full of dollars and dimes lost control and crashed on a wall Right in the spot where he stood all day long and covered his corpse with gold Please leave me alone Just let me be Free I wanna live You, you only deceit the weak and the meek To play a game you only win Oh, please mercy me and just crawl away back in the holy hole you’ve built I can’t believe this the way you show your love, Love! Your fingers cold and firm Like nails on my flesh These are the ways of your love Of your love Of your love…

about

There was a great bush of thorns near the house where we lived when we were kids. A bush so big that after a while, thanks to the neighbors’ apathy and our silent and patient work, ended up occupying the entire piece of the land it had sprout in. No one came near this particular bush, given that apart from few wild berries and plenty of scratches, seemed it had nothing to offer. However, we the neighborhood children had created inside it a maze-like complex of tunnels that lead to a spherical room right in the centre of the thornbush. In there we used to sneak, crawling on our knees, whenever we wanted to be alone, whenever we wanted to hide from the grown ups, or whenever we wanted to feel safe from any kind of real or imaginary danger, in the heart of a thorny world that belonged entirely to us only. In nature, you see, anything fragile or precious that needs to be protected, has thorns• but if someone does not have thorns of his own, then he may borrow some from those who have plenty of them…

“Thornbush”, recorded in the fall of 2019 and produced by GiannisAnagnostatos (Lolek), is Bog art’s third album and the first since guitarist Themis Vasileiou(Sons of Zevedeus) got aboard. It contains seven songs about love, life, death and other human agonies, and emerges as the latest creation of a band that, since it’s formation back in 2003, is constantly evolving its means of expression, merging their influences and every kind of musical element they find stimulating, for the sake of a hard to categorize genre they usually call “container rock”. With “Thornbush” Bog art draw the thorns aside and invite the listeners inside a different world• a world that can offer thrills to those who are willing to leave behind all they know, in order to approach something as new and true as the pain of a thorn that touches you in a dream and –without leaving the slightest scar in any of your fingers–wakes you up and sometimes never lets you go back to sleep.


“Κοντά στο σπίτι όπου μεγαλώσαμε υπήρχε ένας τεράστιος θάμνος από αγκάθια. Ένας θάμνος τόσο μεγάλος που με τον καιρό, χάρη στην αδιαφορία των ανθρώπων και τις δικές του αθόρυβες και υπομονετικές προσπάθειες, κατέληξε να καταλαμβάνει ένα ολόκληρο οικόπεδο. Κανείς δεν τον πλησίαζε αυτόν τον θάμνο, αφού, πέρα από μερικά άγρια βατόμουρα και πολλές γρατζουνιές, δεν έμοιαζε να έχει να προσφέρει τίποτα. Ωστόσο, τα παιδιά της γειτονιάς είχαμε ανοίξει μέσα του ένα δαιδαλώδες δίκτυο από τούνελ τα οποία συνδέονταν και οδηγούσαν σε ένα σφαιρικό δωμάτιο στο κέντρο του αγκαθωτού θάμνου. Εκεί γλιστρούσαμε προχωρώντας με τα γόνατα όταν θέλαμε να μείνουμε μόνοι μας, όταν θέλαμε να κρυφτούμε από τους μεγάλους ή όταν θέλαμε να νιώσουμε ασφαλείς από πραγματικούς και φανταστικούς κινδύνους, στην καρδιά ενός αγκάθινου κόσμου ο οποίος μας ανήκε ολοκληρωτικά. Στη φύση, βλέπεις, οτιδήποτε είναι ευαίσθητο ή διαθέτει κάτι πολύτιμο που αξίζει να προστατευτεί από τρίτους έχει αγκάθια• αν όμως κάποιος δεν έχει δικά του αγκάθια τότε μπορεί να δανειστεί τέτοια από κάποιον άλλον που έχει περίσσευμα...”

Το Thornbush, ηχογραφημένο το φθινόπωρο του 2019, με τον Γιάννη Αναγνωστάτο (Λόλεκ) στη θέση του παραγωγού, είναι το τρίτο άλμπουμ των Bog art –το πρώτο του σχήματος έπειτα από την επιβίβαση σε αυτό του κιθαρίστα Θέμη Βασιλείου (Sons of Zevedeus). Περιλαμβάνει επτά τραγούδια που μιλούν για την αγάπη, τη ζωή, τον θάνατο και άλλες ανθρώπινες αγωνίες. Προβάλλει ως το τελευταίο μουσικό δημιούργημα ενός συγκροτήματος που, από το 2003, εξελίσσει διαρκώς τα εκφραστικά του μέσα, ενσωματώνοντας κάθε είδους ερεθίσματα και επιρροές για να συνθέσει ένα ηχητικό αποτέλεσμα, το οποίο δύσκολα μπορεί να τυποποιηθεί και –προς μεγάλη ικανοποίηση των δημιουργών του– σπάνια δέχεται ετικέτες που το εντάσσουν σε κάποια συγκεκριμένη κατηγορία. Με το Thornbush oι Bog art τραβούν για λίγο τα αγκάθια στο πλάι και προσκαλούν τους ακροατές στο εσωτερικό ενός διαφορετικού κόσμου, ο οποίος μπορεί να προσφέρει έντονες συγκινήσεις σε εκείνους που είναι διατεθειμένοι να αφήσουν στην είσοδο του όλα όσα γνωρίζουν, προκειμένου να έρθουν σε επαφή με κάτι τόσο καινούργιο και αληθινό όσο ο πόνος από ένα αγκάθι που σε αγγίζει μέσα σε ένα όνειρο και, χωρίς να σου αφήσει σημάδι σε κανένα δάχτυλο, σε ξυπνάει και μερικές φορές δεν σε αφήνει να ξανακοιμηθείς.

credits

released October 5, 2020

Achilles IΙΙ - Vocals, Bass
Panos Trikatsoulas - Electric Guitar
Themis Vasileiou - Electric Guitar
Marios Gampierakis – Drums

Words: Achilles III
Music: Bog art

Engineered, mixed and produced by Giannis Anagnostatos
Co-engineer: Clyde Jabra
Recorded at Artracks Studios, Athens, Greece, on the 23rd & 24th of November 2019.
Artwork by Mavra Gidia

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Bog art Athens, Greece

Bog art is an eclectic and ever evolving quartet, experimenting openly in different directions, writing and recording their songs of love, hate and everything that is hidden between the lines.

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