by Massacres

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“A blend of brute force and smart surprises”
- Metal Hammer

“The four piece hardcore outfit have come straight out of the blocks with fourteen minutes of relentless, riff-driven, southern swagger-influenced hardcore that really isn't fucking about.”
- The Punk Archive

“A ludicrously infectious seam runs through this entire EP...It has such an entertaining EP and sounds so full of life – no compromise with Massacres.”
- muteprint

"With nods to Pissed Jeans and Cancer Bats, the TP’s four tracks are bursting with angular stop/start squalls of dirty guitar, tearing basslines and lurching drums. Slotting neatly – or not so much neatly as sprawling in a chaotic heap, spitting and twitching – alongside the likes of The Jesus Lizard and Blacklisters, theirs is a sound that’s ugly and in-yer-face. And that’s just the way I like it."

"Aggression, high-tempo, ruthlessness. They are all commodities that debut EP’s need to include, especially in the case of hard-core rock/punk. For London’s ‘Massacres’ they bring all this in an abundance with Brutus, which in a sentence; is nothing but a 14 minute slaughterhouse."
- noizzeuk

“Aggressive, riff hungry and fond of an off-kilter rhythm, Massacres really go for the jugular on this EP. If the combination of a band who sound fit to burst and some absolutely astounding riffs sounds like it might just appeal, there's a good change you'll find this absolutely invigorating. A great debut.”
- Real Gone


released February 5, 2016

Kris Mayzee - guitars
Martin Walker - bass & vocals
Adam Stanley - drums & vocals
Dave Rogers - vokills

Produced, engineered, mixed, and mastered by Jason Wilson at Stakeout Studios during July 2015.
Copyright Massacres.
Dog photo by Sam Cockman, used under a creative commons license.
Massacres logo by Martin.



all rights reserved


Massacres London, UK

Freshly formed new guns Massacres have arrived with a hearty appetite for cut-throat riffs, savage vocals and unhinged live performances. Debut EP 'BRUTUS' was recorded with producer Jason Wilson (Reuben, The Ghost Of A Thousand, You Me At Six, Fightstar) and released February 5th 2016. ... more

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Fuck! Marry! Kill! Or! Avoid!
Choice is yours!

Well in my 21st year
I learned I’m worth whatever I am owed
Another drink another girl another evening alone
You reap whatever you can sow
In my 30th year I found a jagged hole within my chest
I tried to fill it up with sex, it bubbled over
It pooled around my feet, and soaked into the carpet

I now decree bloodied in the city
Salt in my wound and flame in my veins
On the open road, nowhere left to go
Dirt in my hair and coke in my nose

Another glass another empty
I spot a girl at the end of the bar
She’s with an upturned collar
Cap on his head, chain around his fucking neck
I consider my approach, and I encroach upon their personal space
I tap her on the shoulder, I shouldn’t have bothered
They look like shit but if the shoe fits

I now decree drunken in the city
Salt in my wound and flame in my veins
On the open road, nowhere left to go
Dirt in my hair and coke in my nose

Wash your mouth out
Wait your turn
Your time will come
Wash your mouth out
Hold your nerve
Your time will come
From my ill-fitting crown to the nails in my feet
I am a pilgrim of self-destruction
I will be waiting, for your submission
I will be weighing, your heart of stone

In a life of ill-repute, prioritise distraction
And spend eternal sanction, locked in your cigarette case
Death sleeps within your bed, it rots until you’re hollow
Big cheer for each regret, live until you’re dead

Thank you Jesus Christ, I’m born again
Fuck you Jesus Christ, I’m bored again
There ain’t no party like a midnight mass tongue fest
Take off your god damn dress

No lie, time waits for no-one
And your opinion, bares rotten fruit

In a world of circumcision, hold court to your desire
Don’t spend your autumn years, tied to your TV set
Stay true to who you are, don’t let the good ones go
And drink and smoke and fuck, ‘til your dying day

Take me back to Rome
Take me back to your bedroom
Take me back to Rome
And feed me to the lions

Running from you
My cock it is so big it is as big as a house
My car is a Ferrari and my wife is a whore
By day I play with money and by night I consume
I get over excited when I'm working a room
All for nothing!
I put all that I can into my nose and my veins
Do everything I can to stay ahead of the game
I lie and cheat and steal and trip on acid and shrooms
I fuck a dozen hookers in my hotel room
All for nothing yeah!

Well they call me a god
And they call me a king
Now get on your knees

I’m the best man that I can be
I made associate when I was 23
I shine my shoes I never lose with stocks and with bonds
I smoked my first cigar when I was 21
All for nothing

Well they call me a god
And they call me a king
Now get on your knees
I’m known as Judas
So I hand them the nails
Now call me a god
And I’ll call you a slave

Fucked your woman in your bed
And in her head I left my seed
So, we are one and the same
So, your life won’t change
You’re fucking mine

I am a stock broker
I am a risk taker
I am a dream maker
I am a stone layer
I am a baby shaker (I am what I am)
I am a shark baiter (I am what I am)
I am a back breaker (I am what I am)
I’m a god damn traitor (I’m more than a man)

But it’s all for nothing

I fucked myself in my heart
Now all I have is what I bought
But there's no need to weep
But you shouldn’t lose any sleep
Loneliness is under rated
Drinking and smoking and fucking around with your friends
Tearing at clothing and willing all airplanes to fly
Breeding and bleeding and waiting for dark days to come
Taking the time, divide your powders and pills

"Up on the wreckage
Is where we'll stand
With heads in our hands
And hearts in our mouths"
Your people don't know what they want you to say
Stood in formation, waving their flag,
Heads in their hands
And hearts in our mouths
With worms in the ears
Of kids in the ground

Stamping saluting, filling the air with your filth
Marking the barrels of guns in red ink for each kill
Raising a fist, to the dying and starving and frail
Using your lies, recruit the angry and lost

"Up on the wreckage
Is where we'll stand
Heads in hands
And hearts in mouths”
Your people don't know what you want them to say
Stood in formation and waving their flag
Heads in hands
And hearts in our mouths
With worms in the ears
Of the men in the ground

Stand your ground
Enemy - we want it, and we need it.

Danger of forfeit of ill-gotten gains
Warning of wasting formative years
Torture, the bringer of death and despair
We’re lining their pockets, so why should we care?

Left, left, left right left
Nothing’s left