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FSR022 Sinciders - Synesthesic Sensibilities (LP)

by Sinciders

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    LP en vinilo negro 12" Sinciders - Synesthesic Sensibilities.

    Includes unlimited streaming of FSR022 Sinciders - Synesthesic Sensibilities (LP) via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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  • Pack Sinciders: LP 12" Synesthesic Sensibilities + Single 7" Codeine b/w Powder Shit
    Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Pack de la banda Sinciders conteniendo el LP "Synesthesic Sensibilities" y el Single "Codeine b/w Powder Shit"

    Includes unlimited streaming of FSR022 Sinciders - Synesthesic Sensibilities (LP) via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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1.
Sy-nes-the-sic sen-si-bi-li-ties! Sy-nes-the-sic sen-si-bi-li-ties! Sy-nes-the-sic sen-si-bi-li-ties! Sy-nes-the-sic sen-si-bi-li-ties! She hears colours, smells them too Petite and white A curly red hair mad girl She perceives garage music As orange Mockingbird Is always taking care of her Sy-nes-the-sic sen-si-bi-li-ties! Her hair sounds like a storm Smells the numbers The rainbow sounds so good to her She’s a sinner, sinner She’s a sinner, sinner She’s a sinner, sinner She’s a sinner, sinner Sen-si-bi-li-ties! Sweetest couple, amazing artists Dancing queens, sharpest looks The kinda thing you’d never find Sy-nes-the-sic sen-si-bi-li-ties! She lost one way ticket To another mystic universe Always late , their clock Never gives the right time She’s a sinner, sinner
2.
Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde He’s got a beautiful double life Board meeting mornings And crazy nights Selling canned products And getting high Like you and me he gets some fun Either in the train or on the run Greasy hair and leather or in a suit Cooking up pills or canned soup Not my kind of CEO What Mike calls Greaseball putana Brought up by a nice catholic school The man never followed any rule His dad gave him some discipline When night comes He’s like a drag queen Not my kind of CEO What Mike calls Greaseball putana She’ll drive him home in a limousine Shave all his hair and make a scene When she get it going It’s like a dream Fuck a boy or a girl And make him scream Not my kind of CEO What Mike calls Greaseball putana
3.
Empty, dance floors And full of bones Soulless music And banshees on their own A new move was born From the catacombs There’s no time for love There’s time to a new stomp No matter who you are Only let it flow Next big thing Is gonna blow your mind We’ll bring you to mono times You can try another time Or try another world I’m the guy who’s gonna teach you What you want to enjoy No matter who you are Only let it flow Next big thing’s gonna kick your ass A deadly shake shows your class I’ve got a brand new dance I’ve got a brand new dance Oh baby, you’re so dense Ain’t no time for no romance I just want you to come to dance You can try another time Or try another world I’m the guy who’s gonna teach you All you wanna know No matter who you are... Dance dance girl I’ve got a brand new Dense dense girl I’ve got a brand new dance A deadly brand new dance Don’t you believe in it It dominates your feet It’s gonna pump your blood It’s gonna break your heart Freddie Dilevi is aware That baby you’re so dense
4.
When your head is blowing You want someone kneeling GIMME HEAD in London Cookie feast Ride your Vespa to that place One only code, no regrets BDSM London Cookie Feast Gang Bang Lucky Cookie Feast Gang Bang Lucky Cookie Feast Gang Bang Lucky Cookie Feast Gang Bang Lucky Cookie Feast Lucky Feast Cookie Feast Gang Bang Lucky Cookie Feast! Now it’s time to go back home Mammy’s cooking Sunday Roast Sunday Roast in London Cookie Feast Gang Bang Lucky Cookie Feast Now...!
5.
Always late 03:28
Got no, got no, got no fuckin’ time I can’t, I can’t spare you a dime Run, come on run, come on run I’m always late C’mon over here pretty babe You know it is our fate Jolly Roger, skull and bones, Hourglass, your time is ticking Bullets flying over our heads and It’s time to go overboard Got no, got no fuckin’ time I can’t spare you a dime Got no, got no, got no fuckin’ time I can’t spare you a dime Run, come on run, come on run I’m always late I can’t waste my time with you You know it’s true, my babe 9 to 5, life of lies, pretend to care You ain’t dead When the chips are down You burn out and lose your nerves Got no, got no fuckin’ time... Always runnin’... Always late...
6.
Homeless 02:20
Don’t have a house to call my own I don’t have nowhere to stay This town has been sold to the rich Nothing’s going up but the rent Turning forty no money in the bank I ain’t got nobody but me But I know one think is for sure Taller fences Don’t save neighborhoods And I don’t know Where I’m gonna sleep tonight Give me a home give us a home Give my people a fucking home There’s a thing I know for shure A town ain’t a bank account And I don’t know Where I’m gonna sleep tonight
7.
The first time I saw your face My heart started to shake You smiled for no reason I surrendered at your feet A fortune teller on the beach Seemed crazy but she was right Predicted the weather and our Future/life Like your shadow I need your warmth Everywhere I go The next day you appeared With a lovely Ramones’ t-shirt You didn’t go to sleep Your (black) eyes seemed to flirt A fortune teller on the beach (Playing) with a crystal ball toy Predicted the weather and our Future/life Like your shadow I need your soul Everywhere I go Voodoo rag doll, voodoo rag doll When I feel I don’t have you On my side, by my side One thousand miles from home I travelled to discover you Happiness is on my side I was about to lose my mind A fortune teller on the beach Read my future on the hand Spat me truths like food scraps Like your shadow...
8.
Late at night in the city they are out Another shot of speed Will wear you out He’s sick sick sick/He’s nice nice nice She’s hot hot hot/But sick sick sick He pays my bills And all my rounds He pays my bills Spinning around below The underground He’ll have a coke/She fucks around She won’t give up/He’ll let her down She’s well fucked up He leaves the town He pays my bills And all my rounds He pays my bills Another round Bug Eyes Broken hearted and Lonely she misses out He’s left to ZaraGhost Town Where’s he now? She wants him now He left the town No money down/To pay her rounds He pays my bills And all my rounds He pays my bills Another round Bug eyes
9.
Holidays in Cuba Best place to dream How the things could be Wanna come with me? Castro’s times seems to die Resistance still alive No money a little freedom Would they feel free on their own Beg your paaardon Holidays in Cuba Best place to dream How the things could be Wanna come with me? Barracudas on the beach Crushed crabs on the streets Comandantes lyingin on the jungle White sands and black tits Beg your paaardon For having a wild life Beg your paaardon Best way to live, be worry-free Best way to be Holidays in Cuba Best place to dream How the things could be Wanna come with me? Old fashions, bikes and cars Caribbeans eating beans Che Guevara on the walls You’ll get lost and stoned in bars Cuban teens wanna dance Ruacanrol & Cha-cha-chá Beg your paaardon...
10.
You’re crazy, so crazy And your master’s sucking crazy! I wonder what’s inside his mind When he takes you for a walk You’re dirty so dirty, And your dog’s so fucking dirty! I wanna kill it with my hands I want you to eat its shit tonite Don’t step on the line Don’t step on the line Don’t step on the line You’re nasty, so nasty And your mom’s so fucking nasty! I’d like to know was on her mind When she decided Brought you to life You’re crazy, so crazy And your child is fucking crazy! I’m gonna beat on him With my baseball bat My rhythm stick is hittin’ him tonite Don’t step on the line... I don’t wanna stay I don’t wanna wait I wanna step that line tonite That line is mine/Your mom is fine Your life is mine/Give me your line I’ll fuck your mom, yeah! Don’t step on the line...
11.
Here comes the spaceship They know what to do They are here to make it The ugly faces flew Springtime abduction The flying saucer’s back Bringing the pretty ladies Till the summer packs Now it’s time to lay on my back Till the long summer is gone Now the ugly faces are sad Till another summer is gone Don’t you realize it There’re only pretty ones Springtime abduction Bringing the summer fun Springtime abduction The flying saucer’s back Bringing the pretty ladies Till the summer packs Now it’s time to lay on my back Till the long summer is gone Now the ugly faces are sad

about

Desde Barcelona, la Ciutat Podrida que decía La Trapera, nos llega el segundo larga duración (primero con Family Spree Recordings) de estos cuatro chalados provenientes de distintos puntos del globo terráqueo (en el culmen del cosmopolitismo son capaces hasta de tener un miembro de Valladolid) que han encontrado en esta banda la manera de desahogar sus frustraciones, liberar su líbido, exorcizar sus demonios y dejar las drogas (blandas).

Si con su anterior single editado por esta santa casa (reserva espiritual y faro musical de Occidente y sello favorito de los jóvenes entre los 40 y 60 años) dejaban intuir sus posibilidades como la banda sonora ideal para un sábado noche en la comisaría, con esta colección de once canciones sueltan un puñetazo para instalarse en la primera división del punk-rock deudor del Crypt noventero (¿hace falta recordarlos?, New Bomb Turks, Nine Pound Hammer, Lazy Cowgirls… ), con ramalazos de high-energy y proto-punk a lo Detroit en llamas.

Un guateque para bailar en el retrete con homeless, abducidos y fulanas con brillantina mientras preparas tus próximas vacaciones en Cuba. Las extrañas sensibilidades sinestésicas de Sinciders son un ejercicio de introspección espiritual, un canto a la belleza y a la melancolía del azul del cielo y el marrón de las vomitonas en las tazas de los wateres.

Family Spree Recordings, corrompiendo la juventud mundial desde 2016, vuelve a intentar carbonizar tu cerebro y destrozar tus neuronas aliándose con estos cuatro apandadores, estos sátrapas del sentimiento y el sexo en verdulerías. No en vano han sido elegidos como la banda favorita de los lectores de la prestigiosa revista científica “Tacones altos y látigos de cuero”.

Por supuesto toda esta mandanga servida en riguroso y musculoso vinilo directamente de la fábrica a tu plato. ¡Hazte con esta mierda antes de que las autoridades sanitarias la prohiban definitivamente! Sinciders, la mezcla perfecta y todavía no patentada entre el popper y la nitroglicerina.

Una recomendación de tus amigos de Family Spree Recordings.

Pepe Kubrick

credits

released November 21, 2018

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Sinciders Barcelona, Spain

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