So Called Artists – Paint By Numbers Songs

I wish I could direct you to a place where you could buy this album, because it is well worth it, but unfortunately it is out of print. This download was ripped from my double-LP version of this 2001 Mush label release.

Details from the Mush label:

Sole, Alias, and Dj Mayonnaise proudly bring to you So-Called Artists. Their full-length release, Paint By Number Songs features twelve tracks of biting emo-rap, alt-rock production and crisp turntablist work. The overall feel is dark, brooding, and aggressive, as Anticon emcees Sole and Alias tackle subjects ranging from the depression caused by signing their music away, to the perils of war. Weak drum presets are no where to be found as the production is handled by Alias and Dj Mayonnaise in their trademark goth-hop style. Paint By Number Songs has an edge unlike any other Mush release, and is one of the rare hip-hop full-lengths where all tracks are of equal caliber.

Goth-hop? Yeah, I guess that is an apt description. This record is downright creepy and I loved every minute of it from the very first listen. The lyrics in the song, The Perils Of War And Its Effects Upon Those Who Know Nothing About It are practically a prophecy of the coming invasion and occupation of Afghanistan and Iraq.

Rap and hip-hop are one of the few areas in music where I have done little collecting and this album helped develop my interest in the genre a lot more – especially the lyrics and word play. It is very experimental and reveals an incredible amount of potential that is still yet to be realized by most hip-hop artists. I guess this is what underground folks are talking about when they refer to “keeping it real”.

If you come across a copy of this obscure release, I highly recommend picking it up. Check out other free MP3 downloads from the Mush label.

Tracklist:

1) I Don’t Know How To Start This
2) The Skin Song And Dance
3) Manic Autumn Wednesday Face
4) Posterchildren For The Advancement Of Something
5) Music 2 Drown 2
6) Someone Is Watching
7) Interpretations Of Mere Interpretation
Token Joyous Tune About Scorpions And Their Place In Modern Society
9) Real Life True Confessions Of A Megalomaniac
10) The Perils Of War And Its Effects Upon Those Who Know Nothing About It
11) So You Wanna Be Rap Star Or Recycling Bin
12) Point Of Departure Part

The Perils Of War And Its Effects Upon Those Who Know Nothing About It:

sole and alias:
gas mask, like the way it looks,
mesh vest and rubber boots, cold killer.
death, love, and destruction.

sole:
enter in the arena, all possessions,
honorary masterpiece.
a gallery gathers your children. i the gallows,
hollow-hearted hole-in-the-head seeker.

alias:
wrap upon your door, knuckles sore,
from doing this in repetition.
maybe i’ll reveal this space, despise this place,
wanna go awol from this mission.

sole:
missionaries move in for finalization at the speed
of bullets tearing through cigarette packets and postcards.
the time it takes to walk away you die also.
airwaves, tidal waves, radiation.
we grow with no reason, no reasoning, just the upcoming age,
so give us all of your loved ones.

alias:
now it’s our decision for the incision
for the creating of a passage way, for the spirits escape,
blending with the smoke and shrapnel. too late.
the soil uproots beneath your body, your legs ran away.
try and catch them, but you’re going nowhere fast.
open your mouth and all you say is “ahhhhh.”

sole:
i fight for the poor, i fight for the blood that seeps from the pores
that sticks to the floor.
i fight for the people that want people like me
to die for something bigger than what i am.
i fight so my kids can eat on a red, white, and blue tablecloth.
if they choke, they choke.
if we die scared, we’re honored as numbers.
and for every village i burn, i will always be remembered.
and for every instinct i have, i will always be remembered.
and for every one of my brothers i can’t save, i will never be forgotten.

alias:
i kill for the sport, it’s instinct.
thank my employment for the brainwashing,
now i don’t have to think for myself.
replace my high school memories
with the mind of a cold-blooded killing machine.
i can wipe out a whole village in minutes, and i always keep my boots clean.

“i wanna go to war.”
“i don’t know anyone worth fighting for.”
“i wanna be a hero.”
“i don’t know anything worth dying for.”
“i wanna make my country proud.”
“you’re doing so well.”
“i wanna be a killer.”
“you’ll be that and much more.”

sole and alias:
this is a culture, this is a picture.
this is a cult, we’re making a killing.

sole:
everybody i know is a walking coffin, both sides are the same.
sharing different propaganda, slandering names.
titles are nothing, we’ll all die.
i hate chess and preservation and organization and anarchy.
you can’t pay for my college, we need less killers and more builders.
we import technology and export violence.
the american dream empire covering the world with a black cloak on tv.
we bought it and bombed ‘em, and then armed ‘em and rebuilt ‘em.
that makes perfect sense, because i couldn’t afford college.
but i battled school systems and didn’t learn anything
except all i own is james timothy holland.
my battle ground everywhere, my battle cry,
“leave me here, i can’t take it, it’s way too important.”
so i’ll see you in canada or hell, but never the front line.

alias:
kisses and hugs, good-bye everyone,
when i return, you won’t even know me.
edgy and addicted, depicting to the world as scared and lonely.
i’m scarred and loopy from those who chose to shoot me.
they still chase me in my sleep
when i’m always running to escape the battle, yet i’m in too deep.
the dirt forms a cloud, over and over,
all around there’s red liquid in the air,
and death has stained the ground. destruction in a mound,
a heap of love for all to bathe in.
showering in dirty, flesh, and blood.
the cold sweats don’t do anything for me.
keeping my sanity in the bags under my eyes, “left, right, left right.”
we march into the night,
fighting for the rights of others
so i can return and have people spit in my face on arrival.
it’s survival of the most insane.
put me back on that plane and leave me in the killing fields,
it’s better there.
i’d rather have people shoot at me, than look at me this way.

sole and alias:
gas mask, like the way it looks,
mesh vest and rubber boots, cold killer.
death, love, and destruction.