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Magnum Grampus

by Grampfather

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    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of In Your Bones, Live at the Hive, Rot in Bliss, 666G, Gramppappies, Magnum Grampus, The Gramp Stamp, Gramps Of Wrath, and 1 more. , and , .

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Love can seem just like a dog’s life, short and sweet ‘til it just can’t walk right. I guess it goes for most everybody else, I just won’t put it on the shelf and hope it’ll grow and flourish and flower knowing all the while the thing’s gone sour. Some vague hope, some brave joke is prodding you on and luring you in to an illusion of an image with no reference. I feel like I’ve died a thousand times hoping with each death I’d grow more wise. So shed my skins and let’s begin again and again, and when will it end? My heavens, they turn against me. Well, I’ve got brief stints of peace between my purgatories. Well, maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe the lows I’ve had will enrich the highs I’ll have. I got a lot for my time. I know the world won’t stand still for my desires. Each vision is a revision to be revised. I thought I knew, but I never know. Well, I feel like a volcano ready to explode and cover all the old with new framework to unfold. Well, I’m breaking out of the mold. Let lava cool into new land, expanding the perimeter to understand. You only knew the first tier of the facade that fortified my fears. Well, now that it’s all laid bare there’s just no room for the gloom and despair. Just remember, just remember to forget, to forget just what this place meant, and watch all our amazement become subject to displacement and it'll all just fade and we’ll forget what this place meant.
Remnants 04:00
I change my state of mind like I change the station on the radio when there’s no good shit on, on and on and on. Here we go through the rigmarole. Oh no, over and over and over again. Here we go through the rigmarole. Oh no, over and over and over and over and over and over. . . Again, I lost a friend. All extremes burn out in the end. Yes, it’s really asking too much for you to love me forever and ever when we know it’s never enough. Well, I don’t-- no, we don’t wanna settle, ‘cause we won’t ever let it test our mettle. Used to fall for that sweet old lie that someone would love me all of the time. Well, I thought our love would never die but I was in denial so I taxidermized it and put it on a shelf in a big empty room collecting the dust, the remnants of me and you dissipating in thin air and passing through the half-cracked window in our big empty room.
Praised Bork 02:01
F.O.W.L. 02:28
For the ones we love: Another fine line crossed makes three wrongs right. Take two bad days make a solid night. No, a bottle never set nobody free. What’s a liquid lover gonna do for me? Wanna make it so good, but it’ll never be. For the ones we hate: Can’t keep away, I try to move on but you want me to stay. For the ones we’ll fuck but never date: I can’t wait. If I stay too long, I’ll fade away but I just can’t seem to stay away. Can’t wait, can’t stay, won’t go, just fade.
Girtha 06:07
Girtha, will you have this dance with me? We’ll rock and sway into the night, your frail hands relaxed in mine, clasping, just grasping for some life. Well, we don’t need to pout and let them win ‘cause we both know that we don’t belong here to begin-- we didn’t come here on a whim. We lost control when they took us in. Well, I’m here to clear my name, and you’re here ‘cause you forgot your daughter’s name. I got pinned for a bag that wasn’t mine, and you got turned in for your entropic mind. Well, despite the odds I wouldn’t have it any other way, I’ll face those odds if it means making your day, so lead on, lead away and take me to that special place of your heyday. Girtha, will you have this dance with me? We’ll rock and sway and dream. We’ll waltz all about the room and show all these old suckers how we do. Well, we don’t need to pout and let them win ‘cause we both know that we don’t belong here to begin. We didn’t come here on a whim. Well, here we are.
We need to unlearn everything we think we know. Self-proclaimed patriots maintain the status quo. Red-painted pigs, oblivious to the creed of their own country, what obvious hypocrisy. Yesterday’s rebels are today’s perfect pawns. The sun has long since set and there’s no sign of dawn. The world is on fire, end times are on the rise. These greedy motherfuckers need to eat shit and die. Bootlicking yellowbelly sons of bitches oppressing themselves by protecting the rich with false, worn narratives that scapegoat the poor, never once questioning how they profit from what you ignore. We need to unlearn everything we think we know Illusory certainties shatter, ebb, and flow Some humble humility, some much needed doubt to loosen the fixity and throw the fuckers out. Bootlicking yellowbelly sons of bitches widen the divide with their misled isms: “Protect and serve” means abuse and exploit, “Liberty for all” the grand illusion of choice. Fat in wallet yet bereft in spirit. If their god ever sang out, they would not hear it. Your god is mute ‘cause your god is hate, pray all you want for Satan awaits cackling as you pack all your precious shit in a sack on your back for your lavish trip to heaven or whatever you see fit, but really you just fucking die, and that’s it.
There is no happy place you go, no rejoice, only the void, deafeningly devoid of any semblance of joy, indifferent and mute darkness absolute. Don't hold your breath. Nobody needs eternity. I’m good with death. Isn’t it enough? Reality’s fraying seams dissemble and spread. Certainty’s the enemy-- the sentiment’s dead. Swept away with entropy the ideas in your head. O to believe in some grand prophecy, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.
Preorder your casket, plan your life thoroughly. Rewrite your revised and perfected eulogy. Well, here are the ills and here are the cures: For lethargy, there’s energy, for apathy, there’s family, for suffering, we endure. Here take this, this quick fix for your anxiety. Trade your will for this pill. Bow down to the monotony. Well, we are not gods but we can prepare for the rain, for the wars, for the odds. We can afford our own funeral, our own deceit. Let us free, let us lie. Give us our papers, our receipt and let us die. Take your pick and stick with it. Don’t you know you can’t have both? Can’t be free and have security, oh no, ‘cause hardened hearts don’t compromise and horse-blinded eyes don’t recognize the space between the far extremes, oh no. Well, we are not gods but we can prepare for the rain, for the wars, for the odds. We can afford our own funeral, our own deceit. Let us free, let us lie. Give us our papers, our receipt and let us die.
I want to put in a good word but the world gets more and more absurd. It gets stranger and stranger day after day, yeah. Florida man is at it again, he’s gone and married a gator in his meth den. Well, it’s alright, I don’t mind, do what ya gotta do, I guess it takes all kinds. Well, I know that sometimes nothing feels right, but even though it feels like end times I wanna be besides you. Let’s break this daily dread, let’s see what we could do instead of whine and complain about the same old things. If these are truly our last days, let’s you and me get out of this place. It’ll be alright, we’ll keep our sights high, ‘cause everything is good and bad at the same time. But let’s not generalize ‘cause that’s the reason why we got here in the first place. I know it’s hard to see straight when there’s another tragedy every day guaranteed. It’s not hard to feel detached and numb, caught up in the humdrum. No, it’s not hard to feel detached and numb, but what have we become? I know sometimes that nothing don’t ever, no, don’t ever feel alright. But even though it feels like end times, I wanna be besides you. Well, I know that sometimes nothing feels right, but even though it feels like end times I wanna be besides you.
The time has come for everyone to come completely undone, split limb from limb, stripped from what’s written: This hell we’re in. Freed from the lies, from the ties that bind us and blind us and try to divide us to snuff out the rising and rising of the tide of their looming demise. Take a deep breath, forget the presets. What’s the condition of your conditioning? It’s about time we rethink what we enshrine, and what we reject, defected for our defects, ordained by obsolete precepts. Well, we don’t need that, we can see that it’s just a ploy to destroy our feedback. I don’t buy what they say ‘cause judgment day happens every single fucking day. Another city on a hill slips into the landfill where all suffer in the sludge, king, pauper, jester, and judge. Give it up, all you got, let the prophets of profit rot and watch the propped-up puppets drop as the blood of the mud clots. Choking on the ocean, drowning in air, reaping what they’ve sown: This hell they’ve prepared. Finally, the misery shifts to those who need an exorcism of egotism-- just let it die. Take a look, it’s in your book-- you’ll pay for your pride, If you believe just what you read then it’s eye for an eye, but if I’m blind then your blind then who’s to decide which way to go when no one knows their way through the dark? The words they feed us are just fodder to breed us so we each do our part to fan the flames of fear-- but we know the names for whom Sludgement Day is here. I feel a change of tide inside the minds of those for whom the farce was designed. Some stay a slave to the cave, but we embrace the light face to face. The world that raised you is fading, your teachers all gone, common sense uncommon. Unlearn the words blurred by the herd. Rising from the ruins, a murmur is heard Sludgement Day is coming soon. The rising tide in full bloom. Never-ending impending doom. Sludgement Day will come for you.


Our 4th album Magnum Grampus is our response to how the world has seemingly gone to shit in recent years, especially in 2020. While some songs, like “Girtha,” “Remnants,” and “End Times (Major),” are reminiscent of our usual indie/alternative/chillrock, the others, like “Eat Shit and Die,” “You Just Die, and That’s It,” and “Sludgement Day,” have a more thrashy and abrasive sound, and the themes of the lyrics are a lot darker and angrier, exploring concepts like death, political fuckery, and the obviously troubled state of our criminal “justice” system.
I used to hold myself back when writing angry lyrics, thinking, “This is not what I want to project into the world. I want people to associate Grampfather with positivity, fun, good times, etc.” Welp, considering the times, it’d feel irresponsible and inappropriate to act like “it’s all good,” because it’s really not. Anyone who’s not outraged at the injustices committed daily by the people who we pay to uphold justice, and at the erosion of democracy in America by the people elected to maintain it, is either ignorant, deluded, complaisant, or complicit--or some fucked combination of these. With that said, apt cynicism is at the core of our new album.
The lyrical content may seem bleak, but I view the music itself as a rejection of the forces deteriorating our conceptions of a “good world,” and “common sense,” and “basic human decency,” and as an energetic celebration of life. In the words of Andy Dufresne, “Get busy living, or get busy dying.” We choose the former, which is why we’ve been working so hard over the last few months writing and producing this album. If there’s one central theme I’d like people to take away from our music in general, it’s “Make the most of a shitty situation.” While, in a perfect world, we’d of course rather be moshing with you all to these songs in some sweaty basement, we’ve utilized our time in lockdown to create these songs for your enjoyment, and will continue to make more music, so that when it’s safe for us all to rage together again, it’ll be fucking glorious.



released September 4, 2020

Recorded and mixed by Grampfather.
Mastered by Westfall Recording Company.


all rights reserved



Grampfather Kingston, New York

Grampfather is an indie-psych rock band based out of Kingston, NY, whose material traverses a variety of rock genres, such as indie, garage, punk, psych, chill, and thrash.

James Kwapisz: vocals, guitar, synth
Tony DiMauro: drums
Andrew Blot: guitar, keys
Jake Offermann: bass

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