Shake the Curse

by This Sect

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SECT005 | Sect Appeal Records © 2014

Dedicated to the memory of Dagfinn Karlsvik and Ivar Horgmo Fiskevold.

Thanks to Gunnar Kjellsby, Ragnar Skarseth and Carsten Aniksdal for invaluable contributions.

Thanks to all sect family and friends for your support and patience.

credits

released May 23, 2014

Music by This Sect | Words by Gøran Karlsvik | Produced by Gunnar Kjellsby and This Sect | Mastered by Audun Strype

Vocals: Gøran Karlsvik | Guitars: Thomas Alkärr & Ole Andreas Hagen | Synth: Are Bøhm | Bass: Øystein H. Horgmo | Drums: Klaus Kristensen

Guitar solo on ‘We got love’: Ragnar Skarseth
Additional guitar and vocals on ‘Heritage crown’: Gunnar Kjellsby

Kalaallit Nunaat photos by Carsten Aniksdal | Band photo & cover design by Øystein H. Horgmo

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This Sect Oslo, Norway

Post-punk weirdos. New album "Shake the Curse" out now.

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Track Name: It's Not You, It's Them
IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S THEM
All done in your best interest:
They clutter through what’s pure in you
Pin you down, screw it in, wear you thin
They go in easy … Go in easy …
Cold hands … Shake hands …
Cold hands ...
Shake

You see, my dear
It’s never you
You’re sometimes here

Real comfort
Lies in cruelty
Demented love
Somewhat motherly

Cold hands … Shake hands …
Cold hands ...
Shake

You see, my dear
It’s never you
You’re sometimes here

But in the end
It’s them
It’s always them

The faces that you wore
They weren’t yours
And all those pieces missing
Where did they end up now?
When you’ve shed enough skin
They’ll build a brand new you

You see, my dear
It’s never you
You’re sometimes here

But in the end
It’s them
It’s always them
(The end)
Track Name: Bookburner
BOOKBURNER
Out burning books
Like a crossed out visionary
Dead in beat and dead in weight
Digging for clues in wet soil
Dragging feet in cement shoes
Fired up some crutches
Ran out of wood

When all it takes
To get my ten minutes
Of warmth
Are old books
Inked in bad blood
Frigid hands are thawing
This busy furnace
Will have to do
As a lobotomy
As my lobotomy

And if life is a wheel
This is the detour
Walked a narrow path
Along crooked roads

Climbed the hills
Through their catacombs
Got lost in worlds
Built on last rites

Erasing restricted parts
Of wayward documents
I’ll wipe the slate clean
I’ll cut the noose
And shift the blame
To clear my name

A bookburner
A personal
History
Revisionist
A bookburner
Track Name: Lines on a Trail
LINES ON A TRAIL
By default
As we get built
We get lost
In fake blood
And surprise endings
Because our night, it itches
Though we can never call it our own
Because when the lights go off
That’s when the body, it -
It stops

We’re stuck, we’re stuck here
Stuck in a movement
We’re stuck, we’re stuck here
Stuck in this moment
Like lines on a trail

Beating hearts in ragged forms
Wobbly skeletons in crowded closets
As motions become fractured blurs
And we cling to your hands
Too afraid to let go

We’re stuck, we’re stuck here
Stuck in a movement
We’re stuck, we’re stuck here
Stuck in this moment
Like lines on a trail

You surely love what you’ve begotten
But how can you love what we’ve become?

We are ill-defined
Though we move, we move just fine
We are the clay, the putty in your hands
Barely making a dent, never flashing a sign

And we cling to your hands
Too afraid to let go
How we cling to your hands
Too afraid to let go

We’re stuck, we’re stuck here
Stuck in a movement
We’re stuck, we’re stuck here
Stuck in this moment
Like lines on a trail
Track Name: Detox the Soul
DETOX THE SOUL
What good is a road
Paved with good intentions
When there are cracks
In the sidewalks?

Hookers with hearts of gold
Are up for show
They rub knees raw
We rub knees raw
Oh, rub knees raw

Detox the soul
Stigmata needles
Like clockwork
Are punching holes

The trophy daydream has a body, has a form
That’s its head firmly mounted on the wall
A damn fine conversation piece
As we stagger, we limp in line
In a life of truth-crime
Perfect tans, retarded sunshine

Detox the soul
Stigmata needles
Like clockwork
Are punching holes

Glorified crutches
Sexy yet skeletal
Oh so easily impressed
By the latest pedestal

Glorified crutches
Sexy yet skeletal
All so easily oppressed
By the latest pedestal

(Those are dirty fingers on your penis, son)
Track Name: Party Like It's 1939
PARTY LIKE IT'S 1939
Evolution sucked us dry
Passed us by
Hardly made it through the winter
Failed to keep up
Failed to meet the standards
Rubbish toys
On an assembly line

Somewhere
Along the road
We broke ourselves
To bend new rules

Are you up
For yet another re-enactment of the end?
Let this be our epitaph
Burnt full circle now
No, you won’t recognize what you see

Somewhere
Along the road
We broke ourselves
To bend new rules

I’m gone, I’m gone
Just reaping what we’ve sown

Somewhere
Along the road
We broke ourselves
To bend new rules
Track Name: Copulation Control
COPULATION CONTROL
Pop-pop-pop-pop-
population control

We’ve seen too much
Now shun the touch

Pop-pop-pop-pop-
population control

Oh, our petri dish mess
Why get help?
Let’s just ... Rest
Devour our brothers
Let the scent
Attract the others

Baby, we’re the same
We’re not hiding secrets
We’re just in ... Hiding

Pop-pop-pop-pop-
population control

Let’s go watch it
Watch it grow
Cement, concrete, sinew
And bone

Closure never comes
With a wake-up call
The ditch where it gets born
Is where it buries us all

By raw completion
Kind of made whole

The ties that bind us together
All point to cracked mirrors
Shaky looks into murky rivers
And the weight of the world
And our place in this world

Pop-pop-pop-pop-
population control

Copulation control

Copulation –
Track Name: Calligraphy with a Brick
CALLIGRAPHY WITH A BRICK
Words aren’t fully formed
Aren’t fully formed
Incomplete and shivering
They just fall out my mouth
And cling to my fists
Like black cancer tar

Syntax lost its meaning
Page is like a football street
And our ink is bleeding

And I try to make sense
To communicate
Got a point to prove
It’ll come across
Through grit teeth
And slurred words

My finer sensibilities
Part cooked, part raw

Can’t do calligraphy
With a brick
Can’t shoot Cupid’s bow
With snakes for arrows

And I try to make sense
To communicate
Got a point to prove
It’ll come across
Through grit teeth
And slurred words

The lump in my head
Pulses and throbs
As each thump resonates
With cluttered echoes
Of riddles and regrets

And I try to make sense
To communicate
Got a point to prove
It’ll come across
Through grit teeth
And slurred words

Seems like crystal logic!

When I was assembled
They messed up a spot
Should’ve roomed a calm
Now it seems like a vacant lot

Seems like crystal logic!

Got some beauty sleep
To catch up on
Track Name: We Got Love
WE GOT LOVE
Stuck in the inevitable delay
We get the luxury to wash it all away
Pages of dialogue with fucked up rhymes
New regrets to forget, not memorize

‘Cause we got love, love, love
A love that’s bigger than us
(Slippery and out of touch)

Tired mysteries and forgettable daydreams
Like sinking ships with bottled-up feelings
32 silver coins and a pot of gold
Egg hunts and rainbows
You know they never got old
But we got love, love, love
A love that’s bigger than us
(It piles up on top of us)

Oh, we got love, love, love
A love that’s bigger than us
(Slippery and out of touch)

Love ...
Track Name: Make Shit Shine
MAKE SHIT SHINE
You stayed up late
Compiling lists of lies
Another sexy quitter
With full sets of alibis
Fully aware,
That you were born
To be the next in line

‘Cause you’re going
To hell with style
Got ways
To make shit ...
Shine

Apprentice salesman
With backroom promises
Too much to answer for
There’s always room for more

And each loss … Will be your gain

The everlasting charade
Of the reclusive Alpha Male
Such a busy body
Up against
Impossible odds

‘Cause you’re going
To hell with style

Another silver spoon
Blacks out the moon

There’s a hollow
In your mouth
Where your truth
Went missing

There’s no shudder
Yet it’s cold
‘Cause your soul’s
Been cheating

Yeah, you’re going
To hell with style
Got ways
To make shit ...
Shine
Track Name: Heritage Crown
HERITAGE CROWN
Just like jaded lovers
We take turns
Take turns
The stars
In our eyes
Got great potential
But nothing special
We wear each other thin
We wear each other out

These constant reminders
Will do, for you
They pull you through
It is the work
You were set here to do

We carry the load
Get stuck with the burden
We line up the shots
As each battle is lost

And it drips on down
I see the heritage crown
I wear it upside down
It’s in my blood now

You see,
The casket
I was supposed
To drowse off in
There’s no peace in it
It’s occupied
Finite
Or infinite
It’s occupied
Occupied

And it drips on down
I see the heritage crown
I wear it upside down
It’s in my blood now

But me
My flesh is weak
It cracks and rips
As each day
Unhinges those jaws
As each day
Sinks its teeth in

And it drips on down
I see the heritage crown
I wear it upside down
It’s in my blood now

And we just couldn’t shake the curse
They built catacombs inside of us
And all our trials and errors
They’d sneak up from behind of us
Like hushed info …
On a tapped line
Hushed … Info

And it drips on down
I see the heritage crown
I wear it upside down
It’s in my blood now