My piano ate the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle

by Antioquia

My piano ate the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle Cover Art
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    15-track CD comes in a beautiful 100% post-consumer recycled paper "Arigato Pak" with artwork by 2nd time cover art collaborator Tobias Greene, printed by F Street Letterpress in Bozeman, Montana and hand folded with love by Antioquia. Includes an insert with lyrics and thankyous.

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about

Antioquia's 2nd album, recorded in just 4 days at Project West Studios in Berkeley, California. Co-produced by Dion Decibels. Mastered by Mike Wells, San Francisco.
Album length: 66 minutes

Based on a true story, this fine collection of 15 songs is a feast of sound - with polyrhythm, vocal harmony and aural dissonance in all the right places. Hints of Mahavishnu tucked into 'world' rhythm inspired funk-pop-rock? Bon appetit.


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Jambase.com's "Albums of the Week" March 5-11 2010. link: www.jambase.com/Articles/21852/Albums-of-the-Week-March-5-March-11-Jimi-Hendrix-Gorillaz#ctl00_ctl03_rptStoreList_ctl02_Img1"

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One of Dirty Impound's Best Albums of 2010. link: www.dirtyimpound.com/2011/01/best-albums-of-2010/

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Randy Ray of Jambands.com review link: www.jambands.com/reviews/cds/2010/07/12/antioquia-my-piano-ate-the-front-page-of-the-san-francisco-chronicle

credits

released 03 April 2010
Composition & Performance credits: All songs written & performed by Antioquia. Guest appearances by Ben Isaacs on percussion, Charith Premawardhana on viola (13) & Joe Balestreri on trumpet (9).

Production credits: Recorded, mixed and co-produced by Dion Decibels at Project West Studios, Berkeley, CA. Tracks 3, 11, 15 re-enacted at El Rancho, Oakland, CA. Mastered by Mike Wells at Hyde Street Studios in San Francisco.

Album artwork credits: Artwork by Tobias Greene (DrawingInTheDark.com). Layout by Maddy Streicek.

tags

tags: african alternative antioquia latin psychedelic rock san francisco female vocalist percussion progressive rock rock socially-conscious world Oakland

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about

Antioquia [an-tee-OH-kee-ah] plays music. The music they play comes from the universe. It is filtered through progressive ... more rock, funk, hip-hop, traditional rhythms from Latin America and West Africa, and pretty much anything they hear and see and feel. And smell. And taste. The band began in Antioquia, Colombia and was incubated in San Francisco. They continue to grow wings in Oakland, CA. less

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shipping and returns

Track Name: Mapale
(instrumental)
Track Name: Custer
Soldiers dead at night. Warriors dead at night. Custer was a murderer, Custer wanted ‘em dead. Instead he got murderered on June 25th. June 25th, 1876, Custer went on a trip forever. Racist! Bigot! Murderer! Slanderous! Selfish! Colonist! Colonel George Custer! “Hold your horses in boys, there’s plenty of em down there for all of us.” He died. They lied!!
Track Name: Boogeyman
Boogeyman lurks in dark corners. Glowing red eyes & sharp teeth. Whatever faces he makes... whatever form that he takes. Today. LIVE today. // Yeah, people! This is Antioquia here, reminding you to live for today. Alright? Not for tomorrow, or yesterday. Take ya Boogeyman, realize that he got a mama too. Why not take him out to lunch & ask him a question or two? Did you know that ya Boogeyman is just as scared of you? Yeah it’s your Fear (not the Boogeyman) that’s what is haunting you. Don’t let your fear haunt you! There’s a Boogeyman under your bed... there’s a Boogeyman in your head.
Track Name: My piano ate the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle
My piano ate the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle. Hammered up the pages like so much wheat under the sickle. Digest the front page daily? Well, I’d rather eat a pickle! // A film shrouds my vision, news fed to my bloodstream. I can’t close my eyes like I’m in Ludovico’s chair. Vectors pierce my skin from every direction to the CPU within me. I can’t remember when my soul was last aware. My pores are pixels. My veins are wires. I can dare to call it names, or try to speak against it. I can ban it from my home & heart, but the fact remains that I’m constructed from it. My body is not relevant when actions spew from input of the diet I’ve been fed. // My bones are moved by puppet strings attached to wings of things called satellites. Out orbiting there in the sky & broadcasting into my eye. But I have my own knowledge stored in a secret hard drive. My own Alphabet Soup survived the poop that Rupert Murdoch’s fed me all my life. Yeah, the Inspiration in me is somewhere playing dead... I gotta wake it from it’s sleep before the mud gets too deep. The Creativity in me is somewhere playing dead. I gotta jolt it from its slumber before my brain gets any number... TURN OFF YOUR TV! Is anybody listenin to me? It’s killin your humanity! We gotta jolt it from its slumber before our world gets any dumber!
Track Name: Overture
(instrumental)
Track Name: A Late Night Snack
(instrumental)
Track Name: Police Brutality
Oakland Police budget consumes 43% of the City’s General Fund. Watch out for the click-it or ticket signs. You better leave you’re lead foot at home. Cuz the cops will harrass you & mace you too, while they supposed to be protecting the law. And if you spend a little time in the Tenderloin, ya gonna uncover an invaluable truth: Just south of Market where the businesses are flourishing, po harrass the peeps without shoes. I get the blues when I read the front page of the news. May you rest in peace Oscar Grant! Authority with violent tools - the power’s in the hands of the wrong man. They gotta lotta nerve to walk untazed; to protect and serve selectively those with Wealth & Property, the others subject to brutality. Who will patrol the night patrol of this land that interlocks terrorism with Islam? They are the true night stalkers with their walkee talkees and their tazer guns and their bullet guns.Police brutality, oh what a burden! They create a diversion. Don’t try to bicker with a cop. (He’ll be sure to blow your head off). I’ve seen em downright impatient and ru-hude. They drop the clip and fill the air with attitude. NVC (non-violent communication) should become a priority. Steadily the crimes are police brutality.
Track Name: Time (This Song Doesn't Exist)
Don't rush me, time doesn't exist. Let me see if you get the gist. It is a sickness that we suffer from, we run to beat the tick tock tick, run until we can’t walk and we wonder why we’re sick! I flick seconds like boogers, but some folks are more scared of Time than Freddy Krueger. They’re countin the tick-tocks, bitin their nails off, calculatin how much time that they lost, or how how much these last 2 minutes cost. But here’s a surprise: the Sun doesn’t set or rise - it’s just an illusion caused by the world spinnin round. I bend Time like a spoon, and watch it vanish like a plume of smoke so let’s poke around. Let’s try an idea of mine: let’s say “time” so many damn times that “time” becomes just another dead word. Time (x?) Thyme tastes fine on orange rind pie and I don’t cry when my friends die cuz this I know: they’ve been where they go, they are where they were cuz Time just flows like a river down hill each spot a different feel. But it’s the same blue water! // Time is a garden in a silent place. Time is the movement of the open sea. Time is painting lines upon your face. This song doesn’t exist, no.
Track Name: DMV
I’m an emotional timebomb. In any moment I’ll tick. Cuz if you give me the runaround I’m gonna lose my sense/grip. Throwin’ it back, the emotional frustration’s keeping us incarcerated cuz the law & the courthouse & the DMV are the key ingredients to drivin’ me crazy. Do I keep myself calm and collect like a detective? As long as Bureau rules we’ll always stay defective. “Judgement! I cast judgement on thee, just tell me your plee innocent or guilty and we’ll see what kind of loopholes we can buy with money. Nevermind police entrapment, cuz I know you’re a delinquent.” Magna Carta, 5th amendment, monition, lump sum settlement. This law is mumbo jumbo and you’re telling me its relevant? Somehow just for the hell of it I’m the arraigned defendant. The judge reads the verdict and I owe to the government. Give me some hope! I’m a victim of the law and I’m a victim of the judge, I’m a victim of the cop, subjected to his malfeasance. I’m a victim of the lineup, everybody’s gettin’ tied up , have to take the time off work because the courts are backed up. I must avoid the DMV, don’t share the road with DPT and spare myself from apathy, the courts don’t work efficiently. Listen to my voice right now, I’m gettin’ all worked up inside, too much judge and too much laws have now abused my mind! The Law in the courthouse and the DMV are the key ingredients to drivin me crazy. // I can safely say that I was sane til the DMV. I hate to blame, but my brain in that same space so long the Game got the best of me. Easily 3 hours til they called my name. At last I would speak with a person. the man spoke as if he’d been rehearsin his words and gotten meaner in the act. His demeanor was very matter-of-fact. I coulda snapped, my anger already filled the room. The workers done gone got gone immune. Talk about desensitized, when I looked into his eyes I swear it was a robot in disguise. But my pity was pretty short-lived when his final words were I’d have to give money to judge. Luckily I grew up in the church cuz my next word was “fuuuuuuuuuuuuuudge.” “It was a fine, had slipped my mind. Please don’t make me come back here another time,” I pleaded & begged, got down on the knee of my leg. Emotionless, he shook his head. “Pay your fine next time” is all he said. Stay strong, stay calm, try picturing a palm tree or the Caribbean Sea. Nope, it won’t work for me, it’s comin on, I’m goin crazy. I can’t pay that fine til my boss pays me, and he’s gone indefinitely...“Order in the court!!” I need some hope, the System’s gettin me down, I need some hope!
Track Name: Mississippi River
The Mississippi River could take your life today, but in the shade on the riverbank my worries float away.
Track Name: Dopehead
Life is crackin down...