Play Dead

by The Hangmen

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    * Live Recording *
    Includes rare archive photographs and artwork, live video footage for My Town and a bonus intro.

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about

If you have a refined ear and appreciation for intricate music, put this album down immediately and proceed to the Karaoke-Nicey-Nicey-Pop-Stars section. Or the Technical-Trickery-and-Studious-Attention-to-Detail-Band department.
If however you like the cacophony of a demented graveyard gang that sweats, pisses and bleeds real primeval rock and a-roll - you are on your way to the promised land.

The Hangmen, as you may have been lucky or equally unlucky to experience, are past masters at this game. Over a decade of careering into halls and bars across the globe and raving themselves into fits on stage has earned them acclaim and bewilderment alike.
They've crafted their own output to their own ends, customised each tune and arrangement to their own hi-octane thrill. Sure they probably got 'something to say' too, but they're too far gone now to remember what it is.
It's a band that exists to play, to blow gaskets, to strangle and batter their instruments until the bitter end, and on that score a live set as contained herein is the cutting edge of The Hangmens guillotine.
They just don't make 'em like this anymore, if indeed they ever did.

Here they are at their blood curdling best, a shuddering hysterical mess of energy and noise - as catchy as any plague and as berserk as it gets.
A volatile set of crazed tunes culled from all five of their studio albums but delivered live and raw as nature intended. The old, new, borrowed and black & blue fired into the world we know with no concern for their safety or survival. Just as it's been all along in nameless sweatpits encountered along endless roads on countless occasions.

Sling this into your noise machine and crank the volume unbearably high. Add some buckets of sweat, spit and beer. Launch yourself in all directions ricocheting blindly off who or whatever your surroundings may be, then you will step into The Hangmens darkness and see the light.


Cover model: Danielle Deville
Dani Photographs by: Mad Bob Sherman
Production and editing: Oblivion Music

credits

released January 1, 2003

PPL: Performer 0103012167
CAE/IPI : 251811588

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about

The Hangmen England, UK

Veteran underground 'cult' band shooting punk rock n' roll ammo using Psychobilly hardware.

Slogging countless loud sweaty gigs and tours across the UK, Europe & North America with a prolific self-penned repertoire of dark , raw devils music that spans eight albums to date, The Hangmen are for the 'Play Loud' crowd with a canny knack for never repeating themselves, or anyone else.
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Track Name: Kanzo
Instrumental.
Track Name: Slither
I'm a disease. I am a germ. A bio-sleaze with poison sperm.
Don't have a purpose. Don't have a name. There's nothing else out there the same.
I am the bottom, I am the pits, we're talking mucous, tissue and spit. No feelings dreams or hopes I just exist.
Don't have to eat, or have to drink, or even breath, or even think.
I have no contribution to bring, don't have to achieve anything.
Don't have to smile, or say 'hello', apologise, or need to know.
I'm a tumour, I'm an ulcer, I'm a cyst.
I slither. Slither. Slither. I slither. Slither. Slither.
So delegate, map out your lands, communicate, shake your hands, socialise, accommodate but pray you don't make second rate.
You all aspire for approval from yourselves and hope you get your share or else - like the rats down here you'll race yourselves to Hell.
Yes there's no know cure, and all I've said is true.
As I cruise this sewer I still slither over you.
I'm a bad news toxic tumour bug, a virus breathing meltdown drug, if you ever get a wind of me you're doomed to despondency.
You'll plead for the death I'll never know, you'll burn, melt and wither slow, slip on me and vomit at the smell.
I slither. Slither. Slither. I slither. Slither. Slither.
Track Name: My Town
Out came the sun, out came the rain, out came the gun, out came the brain.
Why is everybody always killing themselves in my town?
Along came a nun, along came a train, along came a medic saying 'God not again'.
Why is everybody always killing themselves in my town?
Is it an experiment? What do they know? Is it an epidemic does the morgue overflow? Is it something I've done? Something I've said? I can't ask anyone they're all dead.
Why is everybody always killing themselves in my town?
A family moved in right next door. I don't hear the kids scream anymore.
Why is everybody always killing themselves in my town?
No papers now, no radio. TV dead like everybody I know.
Why is everybody always killing themselves in my town?
There's nobody coming now to clean up the mess. No letters left behind to justify the loneliness. They're all past caring what anyone thinks.
Gotta close the window 'cos the whole place stinks.
Why is everybody always killing themselves in my town?
God don't let them see me, I'll hide down on the floor, I saw somebody move but no-one does that anymore.
Why?
Track Name: Twitch of the Death Nerve
Felt the power swell inside, shut my mind and took the ride. Every ounce of it was mine, it had been there all the time.
Suspended in my own delight with no track of day or night, ecstatic or terrified, have I come, have I died?
Oh yeah yeah yeah twitch twitch death nerve.
My obsession give me more. I go to the reapers door, knock on it and run away. I must do this every day.
Oh yeah yeah yeah twitch twitch death nerve.
Can this whole world catch me out? Have some scandal to talk about? Would they laugh? Would they care? Follow me? They wouldn't dare.
Oh yeah yeah yeah twitch twitch death nerve.
Oh yeah yeah yeah twitch twitch death nerve.
Twitch twitch death nerve.
Track Name: Acid Bath
When I get home I'm in need of a scrub
I pull off my clothes and I hold my nose and I dive right in the tub.
Acid bath, sizzle drip...
Acid bath, what you gotta do is smoke, sizzle and spasm 'til your bones all shine like new.

You're old woman hot under the collar with you?..
Burn baby burn there's a lesson to learn 'fore I turn you into stew.

My old hound dog come on home with fleas..
I aint being funny but I aint got the money for vetenary fees.

Hubble and bubble and no more troubles my friend..
Soak up the suds, boil a little blood in a hydrochloric blend.
Track Name: Here I Go
Here I go on another trip hope to find what I’m looking for. It may take an hour, it may take a day or it might take a lifetime or more.
People scorn, people laugh, I know what they think about me. But they don’t see and they don’t hear the things that I foresee.
I know what I feel and I know what I want, to get one step ahead of you. Don’t follow my trail or try to put me off there ain’t nothing you can do.
See blood flow through halucigen eyes, stop your mind and forget their lies. Conformity is what they say, do as you’re told from day to day.
Look out your window it’s cold outside, stay here it’s warm and safer inside.
Don’t be a fool hearing what they say, walk your own path, make your own way.
Gotta keep trying and I don’t mind dying to get the life I wanna lead.
Gotta stay on the case, gotta find the truth ‘cos the truth is what I need.
Blow up your mind, create your own hell, better seize your goals ‘cos your soul you can’t sell. Make your own world and friends inside, wave goodbye to the past that’s died.
I’m not tired of living but the same can’t be said, of all those people who are already dead abiding by laws made to cripple their dreams, gladly wearing the gags made to stifle their screams.
Here I go on another trip hope to find what I’m looking for. It may take an hour, it may take a day or it might take a lifetime or more.


CAE/IPI : 251811588
Track Name: Body Bag
There's a hole in the top where a rib ripped through, a puddle down the back where a brain seeped goo, and there's no room in here for you..
You're gonna need your own whatever else you do.
Sitting in my biddy body bag...
I feel the plastic on my skin daydreaming about climbing in. Veins congeal - I like, I grin.
The smell inside is lingering.
Sitting in my biddy body bag...
Sometimes it gets moist inside, and smudges stain where stuff has dried. The patterns are pretty and print my hide in aroma of formaldehyde.
Sitting in my biddy body bag...
It's my own universe in there. It's cold and it clings and there aint much air.
I'm not wondering what to wear.
Don't need tables and I don't need chairs.
Sitting in my biddy body bag...
Track Name: Worms
Let me lock the door and take your coat.
Take these pills and shove 'em down your throat.
That mouldy smell can kind of sting your eyes.
I bet you've never seen so many flies.
Sure I've had guests before, they're right behind that door.
Worms...
Do feel free to vomit as you please, no cause for you to worry about disease.
They're cultivated from my guests remains, from their toenails to the centre of their brains.
As soon as they're cold, new life from old.
Worms...
You're in no fit state to resist I see, now it's time to join the family.
The doors, the walls, the neighbours are all thick - scream at will, scream until you're sick.
Enjoy your final breath, and forth from your death -
Worms...
Track Name: (I Was A) Teenage Suicide
I hate having you around, you all go live in the ground, take with you all the tricks you’ve ever tried. And down there in the dirt I hope you’ll always have that hurt, and shame upon your pride surrendered to all you’d defied.
Sometimes I wake up in the street in a cold sweat and bare feet. Down the wall onto the floor I slide. When the shaking stops and the hyperventing drops I lift my hands to hide the last of the teenage suicides.
(Blow your brains out, blow your brains out).
But I did it all for me, ‘cos despite what you decree the grass is only greener by gravesides.
May your demise linger on until all doubt is dead and gone, you couldn’t if you tried have been a teenage suicide.

CAE/IPI: 251811588
Track Name: Play With Fire
You can keep your hypocrisy and your sad catalogue clothes and your latest coloured car as long as everybody knows that when you play with me you play with fire. Don't play with me, or you play with fire.
I can suffer fools and ignorants, move among them taking as I please. So gullible, incapable to think or even get up off their knees.
They believe they are the beautiful but their intolerance shows. Their fears out on display to me as they look on down their nose.
Hate me all you fucking like just remember I can hate you more. In your life pursuit of ownership you're getting fucked like any other fucking whore.

CAE/IPI : 251811588
Track Name: Whore for the Devil
When she was born her mama died. All she ever saw was tears.
Her family tried with no success to make her smile or blink for years.
They dumped her in an institute, gave her up as a geek, one day a smile broke her barren face and she menstruated for a week.
Now she's a whore, whore for the Devil,
She's a whore for the Devil whom she loves
While she's a-wriggling over you it's the Devil she's thinking of.
You can't ever win her heart 'cos of the way you're born. You may be handsome as the Devil but you've only ever got one horn.
And while you're paying in sweat and more for what she does for you, you get what you're paying for and the Devil gets his due,
'cos she's a whore, whore for the Devil,
She's a whore for the Devil whom she loves
While she's a-wriggling over you it's the Devil she's thinking of.
Sure looks like an angel so no matter what they say, who minds doing the Devils work even if there's Hell to pay?
When she's good she's very good but when she's bad she's best. Don't matter what side you're own you're gonna figure that you've been blessed
And she's a whore, whore for the Devil,
She's a whore for the Devil whom she loves
While she's a-wriggling over you it's the Devil she's thinking of.
The Devil she's thinking of.

CAE/IPI : 251811588
Track Name: Pity My Soul
Up jumped the Devil and I froze insane, in his outstretched palm was my burning brain. I said "If you're selling I'm buying, cut the crap where do I sign?".
Pity my, pity my pity my soul. Pity pity pity my soul.
The corpse of Christ aint bread it's meat, raped by dogs out in the street, just give us this day thy rock and roll for all sin is dine.
Pity my, pity my pity my soul. Pity pity pity my soul.
I hear songs that the dead men sing, screeching and a wailing any Goddamn thing, listen up hard and listen up good and listen while you learn.
Pity my, pity my pity my soul. Pity pity pity my soul.
Don't go to Heaven buddy when you die, it's way too quiet and the bars are dry. Get yourself a ticket, get all of your friends and get ready to burn.
Pity my, pity my pity my soul. Pity pity pity my soul.
Track Name: Lucy's House
Smashed up rooms, cigarette butts, brother in the corner with his throat cut, her eyes are white, she screams all night and speaks in tongues though her mouth stays shut.
Let's go play round Lucys house, her parents are away.
Lucy's got invisible friends she's called them round to stay.
I went there yesterday night, she was stuck to the ceiling covered in bites.
Blood on the floor, slime on the doors, whoever they are they're uptight.
Let's go play round Lucys house, her parents are away.
Lucy's got invisible friends she's called them round to stay.
I'll buy your soul, I'll buy your soul.
Hordes of insects everywhere, six inches long and in her hair. She spews up toads, her tongue explodes, it's never ever boring round there.
Let's go play round Lucys house, her parents are away.
Lucy's got invisible friends she's called them round to stay.
I'll buy your soul, I'll buy your soul.
Track Name: Zombi Boy
Gonna buy me a graveyard of my own, live in the middle of the aisles of stone. Fill it on up 'til there's no more room, sit a thousand years in the cold and gloom 'til nothing's left but dust and bone.
Let the wind teach me it's song, dig up the graves and pass it on. Sing so hot in a necro choir that all the damn sky catches fire and burns the throats of everyone.
I love the dead. I love the dead. I am Zombi Boy, never cried or bled.
Let everything that I say be. Go fuck yourself with a pick-axe baby.
Feel the cold steel deep inside, gape the rib-cage open wide so all who fear pain may see.
Gonna buy me a graveyard of my own, live in the middle of the aisles of stone, fill it on up 'til there's no more room, sit a thousand years in the cold and gloom 'til nothing's left but dust and bone.
I love the dead. I love the dead. I am Zombi Boy, never cried or bled.
Better left unsaid.
Track Name: Dancing On Your Grave
You down there, I'm up here dancing on your grave...
And when you die in fits of fear, my dancing feet - the last things you hear.
Track Name: Songs That The Dead Men Sing
Before time began an animal called man couldn't speak but it had things to say. Now there's progress and goals but deep down in our souls are things that evolution couldn't wipe away. Technology and science are all very well but there's things that they just cannot bring - behaviour bizarre, the animal you are and the songs that the dead men sing.
Track Name: Little Bitz
I just got back from the house next door. I nailed every-bodies head to the floor.
Smash 'em into little bitz, little bits, little bitz.
Smash 'em into little bitz, little bits, little bitz put 'em on a fire.
Smash 'em into little bitz, little bits, little bitz.
Smash 'em into little bitz, little bits, little bitz put 'em on a fire.
Aint them taxmen a bunch of crooks? Fed my brain to the goddamn ducks.
Smash 'em into little bitz, little bits, little bitz.
Smash 'em into little bitz, little bits, little bitz put 'em on a fire.
Jack jack jack Daniles honey, poll tax man took all my money.
Smash 'em into little bitz, little bits, little bitz.
Smash 'em into little bitz, little bits, little bitz put 'em on a fire.