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This Is Dead Art; This Is Dead Time; But We May Still Live Yet

by Cassus

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Trveheimer thumbnail
Trveheimer The best contemporary screamo band? i'm not sure but I think many would say so.
Ryukisai thumbnail
Ryukisai Best recent screamo release. Fast, creative, not boring, great voices. They reach the light through the fog! Favorite track: Tablecloth Welfare.
Oleg Godunov
Oleg Godunov thumbnail
Oleg Godunov Just one song , captures the essence of what is happening in the world and in all of us .
Cry of despair hopeless way to the finish.
This song has supported me in the fatal hour of my life , and I am immensely grateful to the group. Favorite track: Bubblegum Baby.
Julian Alexander
Julian Alexander thumbnail
Julian Alexander Without a doubt the best and most original screamo/emoviolence album to be released in the last few years besides Ampere's "Like Shadows". Extremely diverse vocals coupled with breathtaking and creative drum and guitar work. Favorite track: Tired Of Being Tired?.
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Seducing teens with perverted ideals and empty promises – They throw themselves into the grinder for love of you. When they cry “Please kill me”, they see the truth all too late – you were never fighting “for us”. Their families turn to charity to numb the pain, and your influence runs so deep that they still don’t see you laughing. They don’t see you. The gears spit out their chewed up husks over the same flag mothers wipe their eyes on. Tears mix with oil and blood.
Publicitaire 01:13
With the Age of Information has come the death of interest. The loss of prerequisite challenges to gain knowledge causes an equal lack of passion, No one wants to specialise in anything now they can do a tiny bit of everything. What we desire no longer relates to what we need (that is if it ever did). We are shaped to strive for the impossible by the deft hands of media priests: To resign ourselves to imagined inferiority; To buy “products” rather than sustain ourselves.
Everything of value is a commodity – even ideas. How to attain fulfillment without becoming saleable? Our culture forbids it. Our people forbid it. Give away your work freely to those who want it and it will attain worth in their eyes; demand will be created, grow, and someone will find a way to translate it to currency. Is there no escape? I want to love something that doesn’t have a price; Something other than sadness. Something other than despair.
As I grow more jaded The calluses extend to my perception. Mind narrows, closes – blinkered by inhibitions And carved to fit the shape of someone else's hands. All my thoughts come vacuum-sealed. I've forgotten how to feel. Living never seemed less real. I've forgotten how to feel. It grows so hard to care Or to know whether anything that Crosses my mind Isn't an affectation Like everything else.
Interlude 01:34
Yearning for a love and beauty that's always just out of reach A prison without walls
The tracks won’t break. The tracks won’t break. Soft fingertips are not the correct tool for the job; Bleed quickly, nails peel back, ineffectual. When the dark comes, will our sparks converge or sputter out - blind in the absence of illuminating amalgam? Beyond the steel lines, the air is ink. One cannot swim, cannot see. One can only drown… Afraid, weak. Hold on to each other. Take my hand. Coalesce.
Sanctioned format restrains the potential for direct expression. Nothing truly original is born within established frameworks – just as a player, however skilled, never reinvents their game. To redefine the context, or the very perception of context, is the key: To release spontaneity and throw us into really new territory – a realm in which we will all be amateurs; where we will learn the joy of unmediated play, and actual progression. All “art” is dead, all “experience” superficial in our comatose state. Art and life must rejoin to wake within us. Only their end – diffusion into the everyday – will restore them to the ālaya of immanent presence.
This is not a punk song, This is not an old song, This is not a new song – This isn't a song at all. This is what must suffice – creating the new from the old. This is my guiding light – a vestige of warmth in the cold. Half-formed, clumsy, earnest. Context will shift with paradigm. This is a call for supersession from within the reign of the past. This is our only platform, for the other does not yet exist.
“Perfection” is our formaldehyde – “staying young” our denial of mortality: preserving image as static currency. Fetishisation of youth/”beauty” is no fluke, but a Fantasy Trap: the reflexive attempt of a foredoomed system to delay its collapse. Ensnared, we wallow in imagined stasis: Obsessed with preserving life, we forget to ever live it, Perfectly functional objects for a purely functional world. Flesh withers inside a candy casing. Ignored time disappears in the blink of an eye. Having invested all in the superficial, there is no energy left for the internal –image becomes our only purpose.


If we run out of downloads you can download it from the React With Protest bandcamp: reactwithprotest.bandcamp.com.

Download includes JPEG images of the booklet (numbered "page 1" to "page 21")


Released 28/11/2015 with the labels:
Don't Care Records (UK)
Framecode Records (Malaysia)
React With Protest (Germany)
Samegrey Records (Ukraine)
Structures//Agony Records (US)

Please order 12"s from the label closest to you to minimise postage costs.

Recorded by Ian Sadler at Emeline Studios
Mixed by Role at Die Tonmeisterei
Mastered by Carl Saff


released November 28, 2015

Kelvin Mace – guitar
Nate Revell – bass, vocals (tracks 1 and 5)
Natty Peterkin – vocals, artwork, lyrics/essays
Sonny Patten – drums

Special thanks to Rik Fisher who worked with us on several of these songs.


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Cassus Norwich, UK

Screamo band from Norwich, UK.


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