Peace and Purpose
Canât go over it. Canât go under it. Gotta go through it. And somewhere out there in the Pitch black beyond all darkness lies Peace and Purpose. The horizon you never quite crest until the inevitable end. Breathe deep â this fearful moment is the most alive youâre ever gonna feel. For the last decade, Crack Cloudâs vision has grown ever more expansive, more cinematic. Last go around, they dropped from The Heavens and then performed with their bare backs to an endless darkening desert. Now theyâve crammed all that life into some metallic and strange object called Peace and Purpose. All the terror of living.
All the helplessness. All the raw human will. All glued and screwed and locked into this impossible tactile shape of dungeon dub; sour milk vox; Avant-protest music. Music arm wrestling itself to the ground. Far afield of beauty. The discordant symphony of factory farming and grim timber of the meat processing plant. The grinding din of the cogs. And yet, never giving up in spite of all good sense. Even in death, we are a coterie of survivors. Look now: Thereâs Terry Fox on his one-legged Marathon of Hope across The Great White North while cancer spreads through his lungs. A self-annihilating drive to feel alive. Rage against the dying of the light, they say. Well, how âbout it then!??! Peace and Purpose is not in any way some art project meditation on Punk Rock. It is Punk Rock. Terrifying, inspiring, vital, invigorating and most importantly, utterly unexpected. Every goddamn stupid day is a sublime slice of fresh hell. Thatâs the point. Gotta go through it. Wishing you Peace and Purpose â if only in that last big breath.
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Peace and Purpose
Canât go over it. Canât go under it. Gotta go through it. And somewhere out there in the Pitch black beyond all darkness lies Peace and Purpose. The horizon you never quite crest until the inevitable end. Breathe deep â this fearful moment is the most alive youâre ever gonna feel. For the last decade, Crack Cloudâs vision has grown ever more expansive, more cinematic. Last go around, they dropped from The Heavens and then performed with their bare backs to an endless darkening desert. Now theyâve crammed all that life into some metallic and strange object called Peace and Purpose. All the terror of living.
All the helplessness. All the raw human will. All glued and screwed and locked into this impossible tactile shape of dungeon dub; sour milk vox; Avant-protest music. Music arm wrestling itself to the ground. Far afield of beauty. The discordant symphony of factory farming and grim timber of the meat processing plant. The grinding din of the cogs. And yet, never giving up in spite of all good sense. Even in death, we are a coterie of survivors. Look now: Thereâs Terry Fox on his one-legged Marathon of Hope across The Great White North while cancer spreads through his lungs. A self-annihilating drive to feel alive. Rage against the dying of the light, they say. Well, how âbout it then!??! Peace and Purpose is not in any way some art project meditation on Punk Rock. It is Punk Rock. Terrifying, inspiring, vital, invigorating and most importantly, utterly unexpected. Every goddamn stupid day is a sublime slice of fresh hell. Thatâs the point. Gotta go through it. Wishing you Peace and Purpose â if only in that last big breath.
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Canât go over it. Canât go under it. Gotta go through it. And somewhere out there in the Pitch black beyond all darkness lies Peace and Purpose. The horizon you never quite crest until the inevitable end. Breathe deep â this fearful moment is the most alive youâre ever gonna feel. For the last decade, Crack Cloudâs vision has grown ever more expansive, more cinematic. Last go around, they dropped from The Heavens and then performed with their bare backs to an endless darkening desert. Now theyâve crammed all that life into some metallic and strange object called Peace and Purpose. All the terror of living.
All the helplessness. All the raw human will. All glued and screwed and locked into this impossible tactile shape of dungeon dub; sour milk vox; Avant-protest music. Music arm wrestling itself to the ground. Far afield of beauty. The discordant symphony of factory farming and grim timber of the meat processing plant. The grinding din of the cogs. And yet, never giving up in spite of all good sense. Even in death, we are a coterie of survivors. Look now: Thereâs Terry Fox on his one-legged Marathon of Hope across The Great White North while cancer spreads through his lungs. A self-annihilating drive to feel alive. Rage against the dying of the light, they say. Well, how âbout it then!??! Peace and Purpose is not in any way some art project meditation on Punk Rock. It is Punk Rock. Terrifying, inspiring, vital, invigorating and most importantly, utterly unexpected. Every goddamn stupid day is a sublime slice of fresh hell. Thatâs the point. Gotta go through it. Wishing you Peace and Purpose â if only in that last big breath.
