Birth Control

by Fight Amp

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  • Limited Edition 12" Gatefold Vinyl
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    The final copies of the first pressing of our latest full length on 12" vinyl. Featuring artwork by Dan Smith and a beautiful gatefold jacket.

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  • Compact Disc (CD)

    Comes in a jewel case with gatefold insert featuring artwork by Fight Amp drummer Dan Smith.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Birth Control via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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Limited to 500 black 12" vinyl - SOLD OUT!

credits

released 25 September 2012

-
Artwork by Dan Smith

Recorded to 2" tape in spring 2012 at Gradwell House Studios in Haddon Heights, NJ by Steve Poponi.
Mastered by Dave Downham at Gradwell House.

Produced by Fight Amp and Steve Poponi

Label:
Translation Loss (CD, Digital and Vinyl - 500 on 180 gram black)

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about

Fight Amp Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

FIGHT AMPUTATION is a heavy, grungy, hardcore punk crossed with sludge rock trio from the seedy underbelly of Philadelphia's thriving noise rock scene.
Drawing influence from Dead Kennedys, Cherubs, all things AmRep, His Hero Is Gone, Eyehategod, skateboarding, and foreclosed suburban ghost towns, FIGHT AMP has crafted a sound similar to early Melvins being molested by Queens of the Stone Age.
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Track Name: Fly Trap
They tell me I'll die ugly.
I've even heard I look the part.
They tell me I'll medicate.
They even tell me where to start.
Last meeting of the dropouts.
Tuning in to convention.
Where the kids go for acid.
Soak my phase in some strychnine
And tell me I'll die ugly.
I've even heard I look the part.
They tell me I'll medicate.
They even tell me where to start.
Overheard traitors say
They'll sell you dirt or disinfectant.
It's purgatory season in my theater of addiction.
They call it a fly trap
But it's mouth keeps opening.
Keep shut like a death head
Hurry up and rupture me.
Track Name: White Pickett
Is this a good time to ask about your day?
The ghost in the window wants the kids to play.
Poor ghost, let it in.
The sun broke from it's thread
Impaled on picket fence.
Poor ghost, let it in.
Leftover last meal again.
Let's not talk
Let's not say a thing we regret.
It's perfect timing.
It's our neighborhood's dirty little secret.
Track Name: Creepy Kicks
The life you loathe has moved on.
Cut from the hang ropes god has drawn.
Don't look away, disease and decay.
Never, man of god
Turning from the hell you create.
The path is finally ending.
Prayers are being answered.
Fire in the fields of free will.
Burn for you, dear pilgrim.
Swollen, cracked earth starts to breathe.
Black smoke blown from every large sinful scar.
Gates should open
Sick stomach should relieve itself.
But there's nothing at all.
Can't see god at all.
Can't see god at all.
Same mark, same witness.
Same old body.
No throne, nobody.
No son of man.
No question earth has died.
Yet you've been left behind.
Can't see god at all.
They forgot someone.
Track Name: Should've Worn Black
Deny where I was raised
And the inbred names it contained.
And if I was able to go back
I would wring it's collective neck.
God is dead, so am I.
There's no pig in my sty.
Now I know god's a lie.
Should have looked with my eyes.
Go collect my filth.
Even empty this town disgusts me.
Track Name: Shallow Grave
Our end of the world
Used to have an off switch.
Now the daylight seems rare.
Nothing in the backyard where the grass would grow.
Nothing in the big sky where the sun would rise and fall.
Paint peeling on someone's past debt.
Time no longer is keeping time.
No color left on old status.
Time is no more, there is no time.
No reunion for your proud flesh.
Your guest is on the table
Swallow the flesh.
Track Name: I'm Out
I'm out of friends at last.
Grab bag of broken glass.
The fires inside the homes
Burn despite the prayers of old.
Now I'll get what isn't mine.
Since I was last.
It's time to remove my old protections
From modern man.
I'm out, the world's empty for me.
I'm out, it's only me.
I view the world without you.
I'm out of friends at last.
I'm out, now life's a blast.
Track Name: I Am The Corpse
Falling down on fragments of broken bones.
I'd bleed the palms to get the things I want.
But it's too late for things I want.
I am the corpse.
The last thing I'll remember
Last thing that I'll see.
Drop from the edge of sleep.
Falling back on a life of bowing down.
Nothing of gods can light the endless dark.
I am the corpse.
The last thing I'll remember
Last thing that I'll see.
Drop from the edge of sleep.
No, never gonna wake again.
No rules left to bend.
Is the dirt I'm tasting now.
Any better than that of the peasants I've put down?