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Refeeding Syndrome: Ear Candle Productions Remixes Crass

by The Crass Remix Project

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1.
Asylum 03:24
I am no feeble Christ, not me. He hangs in glib delight upon his cross, above my body. Christ forgive... Forgive? Shit! Fuck! I vomit for you Jesu. Shit, forgive! Down now from your cross. Down now from your papal heights, From that churlish suicide, petulant child. Down from those pious heights, royal flag bearer, goat, billy. I vomit for you. Forgive? Shit he forgives! He hangs in crucified delight nailed to the extent of his vision, His cross, his manhood, violence, guilt, sin. He would nail my body upon his cross, Suicide visionary, death reveller, rake, rapist, lifefucker, Jesu, earthmover, Christus, gravedigger. You dug the pits of Auschwitz, the soil of Treblinka is your guilt, Your sin, master, master of gore, enigma. You carry the standard of our oppression. Enola is your gaiety. The bodies of Hiroshima are your delight ...the nails are your only trinity, Hold them in your corpsey gracelessness, the image I have had to suffer. The cross is the virgin body of womanhood that you defile. You nail yourself to your own sin. Lame arse Jesus calls me sister, there are no words for my contempt, Every woman is a cross in is filthy theology, in his arrogant delight. He turns his back upon me in his fear, he dare not face me. Fearfucker. Share nothing you Christ, sterile, impotent, fucklove prophet of death. You are the ultimate pornography, in your cuntfear, cockfear, manfear, womanfear, Unfair, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare. Jesus died for his own sins, not mine.
2.
Fuck the politically minded, here's something I want to say About the state of the nation, the way they treat us today At school they give you shit, drop you in a pit You try, you try, you try to get out, but you can't because they've fucked you about Then you're a prime example of how they must not be This is just a sample, what they've done to you and me [Chorus]
 Do they owe us a living? 
Of course they do! Of course they do! 
 Do they owe us a living? 
Of course they do! Of course they do! 
 Do they owe us a living? 
Of course they fucking do! They don't want me anymore, I threw it on the floor Used to call me sweet thing, I'm nobody's plaything And now that I am different, you'd love to bust my head You'd love to see me cop out, love to see me dead [Chorus]
 Do they owe us a living? 
Of course they do! Of course they do! 
 Do they owe us a living? 
Of course they do! Of course they do! 
 Do they owe us a living?
 Of course they fucking do! The living that is owed to me, I'm never going to get Buggered this whole world up, up to their necks in debt. Give you a lobotomy for something you ain't done Make you the epitome of everything that's wrong [Chorus]
 Do they owe us a living? 
Of course they do! Of course they do! 
 Do they owe us a living? 
Of course they do! Of course they do! 
 Do they owe us a living?
 Of course they fucking do! Don't take any notice of what the public thinks So much on the TV, they just don't want to think. Used you as a target, they want to sell advice When you don't want to hear it, they say you're full of vice [Chorus]
 Do they owe us a living? 
Of course they do! Of course they do! 
 Do they owe us a living? 
Of course they do! Of course they do! 
 Do they owe us a living?
 Of course they fucking do!
3.
End Result 02:07
I am a product. I am a symbol Of endless, hopeless, fruitless, aimless games. I’m a glossy package on the supermarket shelf. My contents aren’t fit for human consumption. I could tragically injure your perfect health. My ingredients will seize up your body’s function. I am the dirt that everyone walks on. I am the orphan nobody wants. I am the staircarpet everyone walks on. I am the leper nobody wants to touch.........much. I am a sample. I am a scapegoat Of useless, futureless, endless, mindless ideas. I am a number on the paper you file away. I’m a portfolio you stick in the drawer. I’m the fool you try to scare when you say, “We know all about you, of that you can be sure” Well, I don’t want your crazy system, I don’t want to be on your files. Your temptations I try to resist them 'Cause I know what hides beneath your smiles, it’s.......EST. I am a subject. I am a topic For useless, futureless, endless, mindless debates. You think up ways that you can hide me From the naive eyes of your figurehead But don’t you find that it ain’t easy? Wouldn’t you love to see me dead? Your answer is to give me treatment For crying out when you give me pain Leave me with no possible remnant You poke your knives into my brain You send me insane. I’m an example. I’m no hero Of the great, intelligent, magnificent, human race. I’m part of the race that kills for possessions Part of the race that’s wiping itself out. I’m part of the race that’s got crazy obsessions Like locking people up, not letting them out. I hate the living dead and their work in factories. They go like sheep to their production lines. They live on illusions, don’t face the realities All they live for is that big blue sign that says.. It says FORD... well keep your Ford I'm feeling bored keep your Ford I'm feeling bored keep your Ford I'm feeling bored keep your Ford I'm feeling bored
4.
They won’t destroy the world, no, they’re not that crazy. You’re not dealing with the town hall. They’re not crazy. No political solution so why should we bother? Well whose fucking head do you think they’re holding it over? FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE. FIRE. They can’t wait to use it. They can’t wait to use it. They can’t wait to try it out. They can’t wait to use it. They’ve got a bomb. They’ve got a bomb and they can’t wait to use it on me. Twenty odd years now waiting for the flash.... Twenty odd years now waiting for the flash All of the oddballs thinking we’ll be ash. Well the four minute warning has run on into years Are we waiting for them to confirm our fears? FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE. FIRE. They can’t wait to use it. They can’t wait to use it. They can’t wait to try it out. They can’t wait to use it. They’ve got a bomb. They’ve got a bomb and they can’t wait to use it on me. They can build them small, call it tactical. Stop the fallout, make it practical To smash the misfits who foul up their scene With the practical, tactical, killing machine. FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE. FIRE. They can’t wait to use it. They can’t wait to use it. They can’t wait to try it out. They can’t wait to use it. They’ve got a bomb. They’ve got a bomb and they can’t wait to use it on me.
5.
Punk Is Dead 01:53
Yes that’s right, punk is dead It’s just another cheap product for the consumer’s head. Bubblegum rock on plastic transistors Schoolboy sedition backed by big time promoters. CBS promoted the Clash But it ain’t for revolution, it’s just for cash. Punk became a fashion just like hippy used to be And it ain’t got a thing to do with you or me. Movements are systems and systems kill Movements are expressions of the public will Punk became a movement cos we all felt lost But the leaders sold out and now we all pay the cost. Punk narcissism was a social napalm Steve Jones started doing real harm Preaching revolution, anarchy and change As he sucked from the system that had given him his name. Well I’m tired of looking through shit stained glass Tired of staring up a superstar’s arse I’ve got an arse and crap and a name I’m just waiting for my fifteen minutes fame. Steve Jones you’re napalm If you’re so pretty why do you smarm? Patti Smith, you’re napalm You write with your hand but it’s Rimbaud’s arm. And me, yes, I, do I want to burn? Is there something I can learn? Do I need a business man to promote my angle? Can I resist the carrots that fame and fortune dangle? I see the velvet zippies in their bondage gear The social elite with safetypins in their ear I watch and understand that it don’t mean a thing The scorpions might attack, but the system’s stole the sting. PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD.
6.
Not for me the factory floor Sweeping up from nine to four Not for me the silly rat race I don’t see the point in any case. People ask me why I say what I do I say to them, “Well wouldn’t you if you were fucked up just like me a reject of society?” They say I dig a hole and jump right in Well I don’t give a shit about anything! I don’t comply to their silly rules All they are is hypocritical fools. You give us conscience money Now you start to worry The Frankenstein monster you created Has turned against you, now you’re hated! They tell me I’m not what they’d like me to be It’s their fault, you can’t blame me They fucking tricked me half the time Now they’ve got to stand in line They don’t like it when they see me have fun They turn around and then they run. They don’t listen to what I say I’m a reject of society. You give us conscience money Now you start to worry The Frankenstein monster you created Has turned against you, now you’re hated! You give us conscience money Now you start to worry The Frankenstein monster you created Has turned against you, now you’re hated! You give us conscience money Now you start to worry The Frankenstein monster you created Has turned against you, now you’re hated!
7.
I’ve seen it all before Revolution at my back door Who’s to say it won’t happen all again? ‘Cause the generals sip Bacardi While the privates feel all the pain. They talk from the screen and T.V. tube They talk revolution like it’s processed food. They talk anarchy from music hall stages, Look for change in colour supplement pages. They think that by talking from some distant tower That something might change in the structure of power. They dream, they dream, never walk on the street. They dream, they dream, never stand on their feet. I’ve seen it all before Revolution at my back door Who’s to say it won’t happen all again? ‘Cause the generals sip Bacardi While the privates feel all the pain. Alternative values were a fucking con. They never really meant it when they said “Get it on.” They really meant, “Mine, that’s mine,” can’t you see? They stamped on our heads so that they could be free. They formed little groups, like rich man’s ghettoes Tending their goats and organic tomatoes. While the world was being fucked by fascist regimes They talked of windmills and psychedelic dreams. I’ve seen it all before Revolution at my back door Who’s to say it won’t happen all again? ‘Cause the generals sip Bacardi While the privates feel all the pain.
8.
Banned from the Roxy... okay I never much liked playing there anyway They said they only wanted well behaved boys Do they think guitars and microphones are just fucking toys? Fuck them, I've chosen to make my stand, Against what I feel is wrong with this land. They just sit there on their overfed asses, Feeding off the sweat of less fortunate classes. They keep their fucking power ’Cause their finger’s on the button, They’ve got control and won’t let it be forgotten. The truth of their reality is at the wrong end of a gun The proof of that is Belfast and that’s no fucking fun. Seeing the squaddy lying in the front yard, Seeing the machine guns resting on the fence. Finding the entrance to your own front door is barred And they've got the fucking nerve to call it defence. Seems their defence is just the threat of strength Protection for the privileged at any length. The government protecting their profits from the poor, The rich and the fortunate chaining up the door. Afraid that the people may ask for a little more that the shit they get. The shit they get. The shit they get. The shit they get. The shit they get. The shit they get. The shit they get. The shit they get. Defence, shit it's nothing less than war, And no one but the government know what it's fucking for, Oh yes they say it’s defence, they say it’s decency Mai Lai, Hiroshima, know what I mean? The same fucking lies with depressing frequency, They say “We had to do it to keep our lives clean.” Well whose life? Whose fucking life? Who the fuck are they talking to? Whose life? Whose fucking life? I tell you one thing, it ain't me and you. And their systems, Christ, they’re everywhere School, army, church, the corporation deal A fucked up reality based on fear A fucking conspiracy to stop you feeling real. Well, they’re wrong, ain’t got me, I’d say they’re fucking wrong, I ain’t quite ready with my gun, but I've got my song… Banned from the Roxy, well okay I never much liked playing there anyway. GUNS GUNS GUNS GUNS
9.
G's Song 00:39
This country tells us that we’re down and out Got you thinking that we’re through. Got to suffer to get them moving Say it’s up to me and you. Well, look around and you’ll see Who gets the goods, not you and me. ’Cause they ain’t suffering, no, not for us They’re masquerading like pissers must. They abuse us, keep us right underfoot With the illusion of contentment and good. Well it’s not over, war’s still around And they’ve got no problems when you’re underground!
10.
Fight War, Not Wars! Fight War, Not Wars! Fight War, Not Wars! Fight War, Not Wars! Fight War, Not Wars! Fight War, Not Wars! Fight War, Not Wars! Fight War, Not Wars! Fight War, Not Wars! Fight War, Not Wars! (etc.)
11.
Fuck is women’s money. We pay with our bodies. There is no purity in our love No beauty. Just bribery. It’s all the fucking same. It’s all the fucking same. We make soldiers with our submission Wars with our isolation Fuck is women’s money. We pay with our bodies. There is no purity in motherhood. No beauty. Just bribery. It’s all the fucking same. We are all slaves to sexual histories. Our awareness of whoredom can be a release. War is men’s money. They pay with their bodies. There is no purity in that game Only blood, death and bribery. It’s still the fucking same. It’s all the fucking same. But we have all got the power. Don’t just stand there And take submission on the strength of fear. FIGHT WAR, NOT WARS.
12.
Securicor 02:30
I’m a private in a private army, I’m a private in a private army. I’m a private in a private army, I’m a private in a private army. I am a-working for Securicor Take the money and come back for more I want to do it ’cause I know I should For the customer and the common good. I walk around with a big Alsatian He’ll rearrange you with no provocation And I’m the bugger who has got the lead You’ll have to be bright if you want to get at me. Securicor cares Securicor cares Securicor scares the shit out of you Do you want to come closer? I block the pavement with my club and hat I deal in money that you can’t get at. You want to use me ’cause I’m up for rent Well tough shit, ’cause I’m real busy. You ought to know me cause I’ve been a cop Out of the army where I learned a lot. Some kids still chuckle when they see my van But it’s not all money sonny, you want to come closer? Securicor cares Securicor cares Securicor scares the shit out of you Do you want to come closer? I’m a private in a private army, I’m a private in a private army. I’m a private in a private army, I’m a private in a private army…
13.
SUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKSSSSSS! (etc) Do you really believe in Buddha? Do you really believe in Buddha? Do you really believe in Jesus? Do you really believe in Jesus? Is it all right really? Is it all right really? Is it working? Do you really believe in Marx? Do you really believe in Thatcher? Is it all right really? Is it all right really? Is it working? Do you really believe in the system? Well OK, I BELIEVE IN ANARCHY IN THE U.K.! Is it all right really? Is it all right really? Is it working?
14.
You Pay 02:31
You’re paying for prisons You’re paying for war You’re paying for lobotomies You’re paying for law. You’re paying for their order. You’re paying for their murder. You’re paying for your ticket to watch the farce. Knowing you’ve made your contribution To the system’s fucked solution To their political pollution. No chance of revolution. No chance of change. You’ve got no range. Don’t just take it. Don’t take their shit. Don’t play their game. Don’t take their blame. USE YOUR OWN HEAD. Your turn instead. It’s not apologize. It’s not economize. It’s not make do. It’s not pull through. It’s not take it. It’s not make it. It’s not just you. It’s not madmen. It’s not difficult. It’s not behave. It’s not, oh well, just this once. It’s fucking impossible. It’s fucking unbearable. It’s fucking stupid. IT’S FUCKING STUPID.
15.
Angels 01:54
The angels are on T.V. tonight, grey puke, celluloid shit. The army have sent a mission to Ireland, just to see to it. Kojak is on the streets again, grey puke, fucking shit. The army say they seek peace in Ireland and they'll see to it. That they keep in line, horizontal hold. Keep in line, vertical hold. Keep in line, brightness. Keep in line, contrast. Keep in line, VISION ON. Coronation Street is on twice a week, grey puke, fucking shit. The army say they seek peace in Ireland and they'll see to it. The army are on the news report. REAL WARS. BULLETS. DEATH. They're beating fuck out of someone they caught just to see to it. That they keep in line, horizontal hold. Keep in line, vertical hold. Keep in line, contrast. Keep in line, brightness. Keep in line, VISION OFF.
16.
What A Shame 01:19
It doesn't take much to bring you down. There are plenty of people standing round. They wait till you slacken off just a bit. Then they fill you up with passive bullshit. It's too good. It can't last. What a shame. Watch out for the quiet ones at the back. All they want is the smallest crack. Everything's happening down the front. Innocent bystander you're the biggest runt. Fuck the punks. Punks are fucked. It's too loud. Awful row. They can't play. They'll give up. In the end. What a shame. Oh! what a shame! Oh! what a shame! It's still the same, That's what you think. Watch out for the quiet ones at the back. All they want is the smallest crack. Everything's happening down the front. Innocent bystander you're the biggest runt. We all know, it's so bad, but we say so. What a shame.
17.
So What? 02:48
They ask me why I'm hateful, why I'm bad. They tell me I got things they never had. They tell me go to church and see the light. Cos the good lord's always right. Well so what, so what? So what if Jesus died on the cross? So what about the fucker, I don't give a toss? So what if the master walked on the water? I don't see HIM trying to stop the slaughter! They say I wouldn't have to live from bins. If I would go along, confess my sins. They say I shouldn't commit no crime. Cos Jesus Christ is watching all the time. So what, so what? So what if he's always over my shoulder? I realize the truth as I get older. I get to see what a con it is. Because it's my life, mine not his. Well, they say they're going to send me away. Said they're going to make me pay. We're sorry but you got to go. But you were naughty, you said "No". So what, so what? So what if I see through the lies? So what if the people I despise Twist my arm and make me work? I'm no deaf, dumb fucking jerk. I'm no spastic lying in the street. I'm no superstar elite. I'm just a person, a human being. "NO YOU'RE NOT, YOU'RE A PART OF THE MACHINE. You're a part of our machine because we want you to be. We've got you now and you'll never be free. We can even have your body after you're dead. We can take the eyes out of your fucking head. Yes we'll take them out, use them again. We can do it you know cos we've got your brain. We'll crucify you like we crucified him. We'll make you obey our every whim. We got the power, the power and the glory!" I've heard that before in a different story. But the story I heard covered up the truth Didn't touch on the actual factual proof. Didn't say about the bodies in the concentration camps Didn't say about the (surgeons) knives underneath the lamps Doesn't say that the ovens are still warm Doesn't say that this wretched little form Is a human being who wants to live But not in the snot and shit they give! They say that I had better keep quiet Or they're gonna douse my light. Jesus Christ can save my life But I can always use my knife. So what? So what? So what? So what? So what? So what? SO WHAT!
18.
...of course they fucking do! Of course they fucking do! Of course they fucking do! Of course they fucking do! Of course they fucking do! Of course they fucking do... I am a product. I am a symbol, of endless, hopeless, fruitless, aimless games. I’m a glossy package on the supermarket shelf. My contents aren’t fit for consumption. My ingredients will seize up your body’s function. I am the dirt that everyone walks on. I am the orphan nobody wants. I am the staircarpet everyone walks on. I am the leper nobody wants to touch.........much. I am a sample. I am a scapegoat of useless, futureless, endless, mindless ideas. I am a number on the paper you file away. I’m a portfolio you stick in the drawer. I’m the fool you try to scare when you say, “We know all about you, of that you can be sure,” well, I don’t want your crazy system, I don’t want to be on your files. Your temptations I try to resist them cos I know what hides beneath your smiles, it’s.......electric shock treatment. I am a subject. I am a topic for useless, futureless, endless, mindless debates. You think up ways that you can hide me from the naive eyes of your figurehead, but don’t you find that it ain’t easy? Wouldn’t you love to see me dead? Your answer is to give me treatment for crying out when you give me pain, leave me with no possible remnant, you poke your knives into my brain, you send me insane. I’m an example. I’m no hero of the great, intelligent, magnificent, human race. I’m part of the race that kills for possessions, part of the race that’s wiping itself out. I’m part of the race that’s got crazy obsessions like locking people up, not letting them out. I hate the living dead and their work in factories. They go like sheep to their production lines. They live on illusions, don’t face the realities, all they live for is that big blue sign, it says...Ford. I’M BORED, BORED, BORED.

about

We at Ear Candle Productions have accepted the Crass Challenge. The former members of the seminal anarchist punk band Crass and the label One Little Indian have made the original multitrack recordings of their debut album from 1978, The Feeding Of The 5000, available for remixing.

In accordance with Crass's firm, uncompromising principles (Note: this is a band that has rhymed "Clash" with "cash" more than once), we have consulted with Crass and the One Little Indian label and agreed to offer this reimagining of their rough, raging anarcho-punk vision for free. (Donations accepted.)

The Crass stems can be found here: crass.live/stems

credits

released May 24, 2020

All songs written by Andy Palmer, Eve Libertine, Gee Vaucher, Joy DeVivre, Penny Rimbaud, Pete Wright, Phil Free, and Steve Ignorant.

CRASS were:

Penny Rimbaud: Drums and radio
Pete Wright: Bass and vocals
Phil Free and Andy Palmer: Guitars
Steve Ignorant, Eve Libertine, and Joy DeVivre: Vocals
Gee Vaucher: Visual arts

Added elements:
The Granite Countertops: Backing vocals on SUCKS
The Sentimental Agents: Pop backing track on WOMEN
J Neo Marvin: Loops and MIDI instruments
Davis Jones: Recitation on END RESULT REPRISE

Remixing and remastering by J Neo Marvin for Ear Candle Productions

The cover art is a collage of one of the first photos taken of the Earth from space and a still from Dave King's 21st century art show where he reimagined the Crass symbol he originally created in vibrant psychedelic colors.

THIS ALBUM IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF DAVE KING, JOHN LODER, AND MAATI LYON.

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The Crass Remix Project San Francisco, California

Crass were a punk band that existed from 1977 to 1984, taking the Sex Pistols' flippant ideas about anarchy and transforming it into an ethos that changed the conversation forever. We still have a lot to learn from them. The Crass Remix Project takes the first angry stirrings of Crass and views them through a fresh new lens. Ear Candle Productions now offers it to you for free. ... more

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