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DIY recording. All songs by BTSHF.


released April 22, 2017



all rights reserved


...But the Shadows Have Foes Illinois

Illinois hardcore. DIY.


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Track Name: II
I’ve built an imaginary bomb shelter in my brain. Faded brick, twisted steel, a thousand feet underground. A place to hide in terror, cowering from the looming chaos which will overtake us all, like the sun swallowing up the earth and sky, or like the seas boiling while mountains turn to glass. However, its undeniable immateriality represents the fatal flaw in the bunker’s design. In reality, it’s a study in denial. Because, if I’m being truly honest with myself, it’s just practicing oblivion, imagining the end, while hope is strangled, buried in a shallow grave, and left for dead.
Track Name: III
A decade ago, I held up a sign at a demonstration comparing going to school to going to prison. I bring this up for context: how is someone like me put in the unenviable position of having to defend our most basic institutions against genuinely evil men who would seek to burn everything that does any good? When I envisioned revolution I imagined it would be fueled by the righteous anger of the oppressed, not the nihilistic cynicism of the rich. They have taken everything else from us so then why not steal our rage?
Track Name: IV
I suppose I have become inured to it: life isn’t going to be exactly what I expected, through no fault of my own. Rather, the very foundation upon which anyone could have confidently eked out an existence has been chiseled away, methodically and cruelly, by wicked men to whom our lives are a game.
Track Name: V
There was a point, not that long ago, where I would have thought that someone using the word “Orwellian” was misguided, at best. Such grandiloquence stood in opposition to being nobly even tempered and sober in one's assessment of exactly how awful things are. So it’s a testament to how far we have fallen that the word “Orwellian” somehow doesn’t seem strong enough.
Track Name: VI
I have been systematically trained to scale back my expectations for what constitutes "living” so far that I feel like a king if my car has a full tank of gas. And I'm one of the lucky ones: gainfully employed in a rich country. Everyone is poor and miserable and almost no one with any actual power is doing anything to change anything except convincing people that it’s in their best interest to forever keep digging.
Track Name: VII
If I’ve learned anything about the world it’s that everywhere you look ignorance is the midwife of malevolence. There’s a reason, after all, dictators kill journalists and fascists burn books. But assassinations and bonfires are easy to condemn. What do you do when, instead of handing out bullets and matches, evil men get into the business of turning knowledge into ignorance, selling us their news and writing their own books, subverting and debasing the very idea of truth? Words have always been the weapons of the weak. That’s why they want to destroy them.
Track Name: VIII
Sometimes I worry that I'll never be small enough. That it is impossible to take up less space than I already do, even as everything in this world tells me to disappear. Curb my desires, shrink my goals, do more with less. It’s as if the entirety of civilization exists to tell its inhabitants: "thank you for building me. Now please cease to live."
Track Name: IX
Everyday my soul is sucked out of my body through a cavity in my chest. A cimmerian pit, ever widening, with gripping hands tearing everything away. The requisite comportment this place demands twists me into something less than human. I fear that I’ll slowly become more and more like them. And maybe that’s the goal? To remake us all in their image. Systematically assimilated. Stripped and stymied. Resigned to getting by with just enough.