walkthrough
get it here:
AMAZON iTUNES HOUSECORE
release date:

July 16, 2013

share:

Favorite song from 'Walk Through Exits Only'
What's your favorite song from 'Walk Through Exits Only'?
Vote for Exits Only on Revolver Vote for Philip on Loudwire

Philip H. Anselmo & The Illegals ‘Walk Through Exits Only’ 2013

  • 1. Music Media Is My Whore
  • 2. Battalion of Zero
  • 3. Betrayed
  • 4. Usurper's Bastard Rant
  • 5. Walk Through Exits Only
  • 6. Bedroom Destroyer
  • 7. Bedridden
  • 8. Irrelevant Walls and Computer Screens

Produced by Philip Anselmo and Michael Thompson, and recorded over the past couple of years at his New Orleans studio, Nodferatu's Lair, with his band The Illegals - Marzi Montazeri/guitar, and drummer Jose Manuel 'Blue' Gonzales, Walk Through Exits Only is abrasive, aggressive, anthemic and 100% Anselmo. The album's eight songs are as unstrained as it gets, from 'Battalion of Zero' to 'Usurper's Bastard Rant,' to the album's title track that goes against the grain and right through the exits. Brash, brutal guitars cut through punishing percussion as Anselmo screams with uncompromising ferocity and uncontainable fire.

'It wasn't about doing a paint-by-numbers thrash or heavy metal record,' Anselmo explained about the project. ''It's an angry album that only I could do. I don't see anybody else out there screaming about the same sh*t I'm screaming about. On this album, there isn't any wordplay, there isn't any hidden message, it's all right there in front of you.''

VIDEO FOR BEDRIDDEN
TOUR PROMO VIDEO 1
TOUR PROMO VIDEO 2
TOUR PROMO VIDEO 3
TOUR PROMO VIDEO 4
TOUR REHEARSAL: USURPER'S BASTARD RANT
TOUR REHEARSAL: DEATH RATTLE
Tour begins July 31

Band:
Philip H. Anselmo – voice and handmade special FX
Marzi Montazeri – axes and landscapes
Jose Manual Gonzalez – drumbeats
Bennett Bartley - GWB bassdose

Produced by Philip H. Anselmo and Mike Thompson
All songs written by Philip H. Anselmo
Recorded in 2011 at Nodferatu’s Lair, New Orleans
Tracked, engineered and recorded in 2011 by Stephen “The Big Fella” Berrigan
Mixed in 2013 by Mike Thompson at The Riff Factory
Mastered by Scott Hull in 2013 at Visceral Sound
Label:
Housecore Records (Megaforce MRI)

LYRICS:

MUSIC MEDIA IS MY WHORE
The time has surfaced for adroit reform Throw a wrench into the dumbed-down
Automatic, demanded, solicited, ignorant, Protocol….
Sternly embrace…
The rise of authentic anti-music
Unearthly timbers…
(And) ominous sonorities, (and) relentless, iterated non-melody…
A shuddering original unlike…
Anything that has come before;
A bastard sheet of sound…
Composed, composers, Technicians of Distortion…
The altering of waveforms…
Endorsed with out reservation
Don’t probe (the) sinusoidal tapestries in this work… Flush the format back into its sewer Terrorize the proper… The remarks will imply, “This not music!”
But the rebuttal is truth:
Regurgitation is boring!
Emulation is death!
Agitated, anthemic, discordant, chorals,
Take over begins
Now.
BATTALION OF ZERO
(It’s) Blasted/vast and trampling
(It’s) Bleak/obstructive/and raw
(Be) Plowing/cemented/resolved
(Or we’re) going, going gone…
Head’s-up, hands-down
Stark/vanquished/deceived
(And) Deadpan/cold/(as) grief
(It’s) Shafted/duped/and fraud
(We are) going, going, gone…
Head’s-up, hands-down…
Heads-up/hands-down…
The battalions of zero is now…
Heads-up/Hands-Down…
The battalions of zero are in…
Wise-up/rise-up/minimize…
Size-up/bear-up/barbarize…
Countless-million/cult demise…
(Left for) Dead (?)
Heads-up/hands down…
The battalions of zero are now…
Heads-up/Hands-Down…
With tattoos of Strength on their heads…
Rise-up/wise-up/minimized…
Bear-up/sized-up/barbarized…
Dudgeon/rawthroats are not best inclined…
(A)Death (!) x 4
(It’s) Cryptic/creeping/quaking
(Our) Teeth-on-pavement scraping
(One) Caustic/rank/dissolve
(And we’re) going, going, gone…
Wake up/resolve/unite
Shake-up/resist/divide
Protest and suck-up in stride…
Be prepared (and) wait for the sign…
Identify allies on sight/without appendages readied for always impending wars…
Heads-up/hands-down.
BETRAYED
I’ve been…
Betrayed…
Revolt!
How can they sleep with themselves at night?
When the blur that surrounds them distracts and then blinds?
This is a call for mass awareness/this is the time to stand resolute!
You’ve been…
Betrayed…
Insult!
How can you crash so contented at night?
When the engine that drives you is bullshit disguised?
This is a call for mass preparedness/ we must stand resolute/inherently resolute!
I believe in mass obliquity…
I’m convinced of a hidden agenda…
I’m amazed at the mass hypnosis (I see)…
“They’ve” got us right where they want us…
I’ve been/you’ve been/we’ve been/all are betrayed!
There’ll come a boiling point
A swallow-chew-and-spit implosion
Collapse is long-forewarned augury…
The loudest tongue will lie about it…
The whorish tongue will lie about it…
We’ve been…
Betrayed…
Repulse!
How can I sleep with myself at night?
When all I have done is consented and thrived?
But this is my voice and I’ll rally the call-
We must stand resolute/extremist resolute
I’ve been…
Betrayed…
Revolt!
USURPER’S BASTARD RANT
Rant!
Split the middle over-drama-sized…
Kept ‘em all at a vicious arms-length…
In a clench with clout reign…
Fakes-frauds-push-slide-and-shtick…
Start fires through the storming…
Burn every bridge in an instant.
Cold, rife decision/glib observation/(so I) snuff imitation/destroy tradition…
And…
Rant with me!
Rant!
In the center of a spotlight…
Another fist rips hard through the heart…
On the brink of a flatline…
(The) Vogue dies…
The craze falls…
In peak condition/the scrap defines them/distinct decision/(I will) destroy tradition…
And…
Rant with me…
Rant!
(And I’ll slip/and shake/I’ll slip/and stick)
Let them fall on their asses…
Rant!
It’s this reputation/an institution/reiteration/I will destroy tradition… and…
Rant with me…
Rant!
(And I’ll slip/and shake/then slip/and stick)
Let them fall on their asses…
Rant!
WALK THROUGH EXITS ONLY
It’s ruined.
Everybody ruins music…
Not just me…
You saw it/You liked it/Embraced it/Then faked it…
Not just me…
(I’m) jaded and over it/sick of the whole of it…
Everything piles up…
Until I burn it in the trash/rip it up and turn it into ashes…
exit…
It’s ruined.
Everybody ruins music…
Not just me…
You heard it/You learned it/You dressed it/(and) Accessed it…
Not just me…
(I’m) jaded and over it/sick of the whole of it…
Everything piles up…
Until I burn it in the trash/shred it up and incinerate to ashes…
Exit!
Everything piles up…
Until I burn it in the trash/incinerate and turn it into ashes…
Exit!
I walk through exits only…
Because I can.
We are no different/I’m not paving the way…
See?
It’s indifferent…
I’m not saving the day…
(Therefore) we are no different…
So it drives us away…
The flame is incentive…
So I burn it away…
Like rabies amongst rats…
Everyone ruins the music as time goes by…
Not just me…
You jacked it/Then hacked it/Devalued/
And stole it…
Not just me…
I’m jaded and over it/sick of the whole of it…
Everything piles up…
Until I burn it in the trash/incinerate and turn it into ash…
A comeback doesn’t come gently…
it’s as ugly, as ugly is…
made of hedonist handcuffs…
crushing weights…
neurotic accuracy…
and kills love outright…
So burn it/one precious chunk/at a time…
There’s no reading between the lines.
Like fire that falls from the sky…
Like fleeing a monster of nature…
Like a bullet born of a madman…
There’s no reading between the lines.
Like disappearing from the face of the planet…
Like being cut in half…
Like having everything and burning it…
There’s no reading between the lines.
BEDROOM DESTROYER
Cold beer scalds my back molars…
Cold beer fattens me up for depression and I use depression…
I will use this depression just like a weapon…
And it’s aimed at me, and anyone who dares to come too close…
I’ve washed some feet…
(I thought) I’d made it up…
I’ve kissed some feet but still they stomp on me… Tantrum!
Bedroom destroyed…
Bedroom destroyer…
Framed faces bring spelled leaden guilt trips…
I could smash those faces with my worthless tales of yesteryear…
Count yourselves as shit-heel fortunate…
You don’t have to live with this; my asinine paranoid-trenches…
I’ve grabbed at hands…
(I thought) they’d lift me up…
I’ve grabbed some hands but still they beat me down… Tantrum!
Bedroom destroyed…
Bedroom destroyer…
I’m pulverized by…
Fat, sloppy fears and…
I’ve wrecked this room/deck, once again…
But it doesn’t matter…
You won’t find me…
I’m hidden in a black room somewhere…
I’m the boarder of thousands…
(Of) undisputed demons…
And I’m laying them on you thick-like…
Because I’m a talker…
And I’m a doer…
And I’ll devour this place, sober and drunk Sober or drunk…
Hail to the king of the pillow and pill…
My screams scare the birds out of every single tree for miles…
With a voice once heard but best forgotten…
Trapped inside a closet inside 30-rooms and half a mile…
I grabbed a knife…
But there is no fight…
I’ve grabbed a knife, but there’s no fight for me….
Tantrum!
Bedroom destroyed…
Bedroom destroyer…
BEDRIDDEN
I am, a meticulous man…
Bedridden, exasperated…
Bedridden, agitated…
… And there is no master plan.
I am, a ridiculous man…
Bedridden, violated…
Bedridden, over-stated
…And I have no master plans…
no/master/plans…
Stay in this fucking robe…
And do not change a thing!
Stay in that fucking dress and I won’t fucking change a thing…
I Choke on (my) existence…
I am, a vociferous man…
Bedridden, and master-baited…
Bedridden, annihilated…
… And there is no master plan…
No/master/plan.
IRRELEVANT WALLS/COMPUTER SCREENS
There’s bound to be…
Terrorism/and schism/thriving on in droves…
It’ll be…
Pilfered/ripping/ramshackle/device rolling on...
Through irrelevant walls…
It’s sad it’s literal…
Extortion of opinion…
It’s more political…
So it goes…
right/over/my/head…
Who’s the enemy?
Do one and one make three?
That’s the question…
It’s right/directly/underneath/our nose…
Land/scape(s)/overrun/by tanks/ crash through the dead meat
Panic/stricken/nay-sayers /got just what they paid for…
And keep paying for…
It’s taken literal…
The conquest for deception…
Fear is subliminal…
And it goes… right/into/our/heads
Who’s the enemy?
Do one and one make three?
That’s the question…
That’s right/directly/underneath/our nose…
Scape/goat/tattooed devils/take to the sky…
the perpetual myths will not die…
It’s not debatable…
When fact yields phantom fiction…
It’s fucking pitiful…
That it’s drilled/right/into/our/heads…
Does one and one make three?
That’s the question…
I wonder…?
Who’s the enemy?