Home in the City

from Campfire Punk by Fort Mutiny

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Insanity. Absolute insanity. A whole wild concrete jungle full of deranged animals who’ve collectively agreed to exist in a perpetual state of reckless absurdity. Cities are fantastic, and I really mean it when I say I marvel at their lunatic beauty. Adorned with incredible feats of structural engineering and decorated with weird and wonderful creatures, our cities are proof that humans are a beast like no other. Not necessarily bad or evil… just crazy. I could be crazy myself, but as an overwhelmed rural-Canadian boy walking around the big city, I can’t help but think it’s just plain inhumane. An unforgiving cruelty seems bred into the citizens, or is it just an instinctive reaction to being exposed to such unnaturally extreme disparities? How could anyone pass decaying homeless people every day without stopping to help in some way? How could anyone hear about rape and murder every day without shedding a tear? How could anyone accept being driven out of their gentrified neighbourhood without plotting direct action against the landlords? There’s only one way to deal with it all… go insane. Cut loose that pesky heartstring; your heart’s nothing but extra weight in the rat race. Become like the ultra-efficient machines that rush you around: productive, calculated, engineered, functional, measurable, accountable, insurable, predictable, and exploitable. Of course, in reality, this can’t truly happen. Humans are soulful animals, and even if you break ‘em, train ‘em, breed ‘em… they’ll still feel the wild in their bones. So what you end up with is a sad, dirty, lonely hole of madmen, workaholics, bums, mansions, slums, malls, black markets, traffic, junk food, pollution, disease, shallow happiness, and despair. You think I’m cynical? Wait ‘til you hear the next song…

lyrics

Oh give me a home where the streetpeople roam,
Where the pigeons and sewer mice play,
And seldom is seen anything green,
And the lights are all on in the day

Home, home in the city,
Where everything is fuckin’ dirty,
And seldom is heard a polite or pleasant word,
And the skies are smoggy all day

A home I have found with a great view downtown,
Of the river, all slimy and brown,
And the fish are all dead, or mercury fed,
And I eat pesticide salad all day

Home, home in the valley,
Where all the cars and trucks rally,
Laying down rubber and fossil fuel smoke,
And the drunk drivers kill me all day

Home, home in the city,
Where everything is fuckin’ dirty,
And seldom is heard a polite or pleasant word
And the skies are smoggy all day

credits

from Campfire Punk, released July 4, 2015

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Fort Mutiny British Columbia

Fort Mutiny is a vision. Not a flawless utopia, but a lawless tribe of defiant free-spirits, brewing up a more natural life. How could such a dream be kindled? Music is a great place to start: uncensored honesty, fueled by personal journals, put to all-acoustic instrumentation. It doesn't matter who wrote it. What matters is that, if you belong at Fort Mutiny, these tunes may help you get there. ... more

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