A badass blast from the past...yet still very relevant today.
"Interrupting all programs"
El Clash...
Interrupting all programs
This is radio clash from pirate satellite
Orbiting your living room,
Cashing in the bill of rights
Cuban army surplus or refusing all third lights
This is radio clash on pirate satellite
This sound does not subscribe
To the international plan
In the psycho shadow of the white right hand
Then that see ghettology as an urban Vietnam
Giving deadly exhibitions of murder by napalm
This is radio clash tearing up the seven veils
This is radio clash please save us, not the whales
This is radio clash underneath a mushroom cloud
This is radio clash
You don't need that funeral shroud
Forces have been looting
My humanity
Curfews have been curbing
The end of liberty
Hands of law have sorted through
My identity
But now this sound is brave
And wants to be free - anyway to be free
This is Radio clash on pirate satellite
This is not free Europe
Not an armed force network
This is Radio Clash using audio ammunition
This is Radio Clash can we get that world to listen?
This is Radio Clash using aural ammunition
This is Radio Clash can we get that world to listen?
This is Radio Clash on pirate satellite
Orbiting your living room,
Cashing in the bill of rights
This is radio Clash on pirate satellite
This is radio Clash everybody hold on tight
A-riggy diggy dig dang dang
Go back to urban 'nam
This mix was performed by yours truly on two turntables with a mixer. This is a 2 hour continuous mix of house music. It was recorded live onto my computer using an external sound card. I used Audacity to perform the recording and some mastering was done in post-production. If you don't like to dance, I wouldn't recommend listening to it.
Just a step cried the sad man
Take a look down at the madman
Theater kings on silver wings
Fly beyond reason
From the flight of the seagull
Come the spread claws of the eagle
Only fear breaks the silence
As we all kneel pray for guidance
Tread the road cross the abyss
Take a look down at the madness
On the streets of the city
Only specters still have pity
Patient queues for the gallows
Sing the praises of the hallowed
Our machines feed the furnace
If they take us they will burn us
Will you still know who you are
When you come to who you are