Blending all the chilling ingredients of epic, dark screamo, Philadelphia based atmospheric post-hardcore band SUPINE are pleased to give you their new track “Inherited Wealth”, showcasing the captivating result of their influences, laced with some of the finest additions of their own. To ensure a better understanding of their creative work, we have teamed up with them to give you their special commentary and explanation of ideas behind their new LP βNo Altar For The Company Manβ, contextualized within their perspectives of the year 2020.
βNo Altar For The Company Manβ is a reconciliation between the divorce of labor from its product and the internalization of personal inadequacy. The imagery of domestic turbulence is presented as the consequence of struggling within a man-made transactional system designed to concentrate wealth and power. Our individual self-care routines and mindfulness practices are prescribed to distract and satisfy ourselves within the futility of these systems, to leave the hierarchical structures of capitalism unchallenged though we innately carry the guilt of the increasingly unnatural state of human existence.
SUPINE is: Sean Brown – Guitars, Tim Keating – Bass, Jason Jenigen – Drums/Vocals, Stephen Patrick Dawson – Vocals
Album recorded, mixed, and mastered by Scot Moriarty at Backroom Studios. Artwork by Stephen Patrick Dawson. Photographs by Alex Bui
πβππ’πβ πππ‘ π πππππππππππ¦ ππππππππ ππ¦ π‘βπ ππ£πππ‘π ππ 2020 πππ π‘βπ πΆππ£ππ-19 ππππππππ, π‘βπ ππππ’π’π π‘βππππ πππ ππππ ππ π‘βπ π πππ πππ£ππππππππ‘.
The way in which so many sought to hastily end stay-at-home orders and lockdowns in order to re-engage the machinations of capitalism is indicative of just how indoctrinated weβve become to sell out the well-being of the worker for the benefit of the capitalist class. Even as corporations and billionaires accumulate record-shattering profits, the discourse around bolstering business and the broader economy largely ignores the health and safety, let alone the compensation, of the average worker. Weβve been conditioned to define ourselves by our consumption, even as the prioritization thereof proves to our potential detriment in the face of a deadly virus.
βππ π΄ππ‘ππ πΉππ πβπ πΆππππππ¦ πππβ π‘βππππ‘ππππππ¦ ππππππππ π‘βππ π πππ πππ π ππππππ, πππ‘π€πππ π‘βπ π π‘ππ’ππππ ππ ππππ£ππ ππ£π πππ‘πππππ πππ₯πππ‘π¦ πππ π‘βπ πππ πππ π‘π πππππ‘ππππππ π ππ¦ ππππ₯ππ π‘ π€ππ‘βππ π π π¦π π‘ππ π‘βππ‘ ππππππ‘π πππ π π’πππ’πππ‘πππ.
As a band, weβre choosing to see the end of shows and touring for the foreseeable future as an opportunity to re-evaluate how we wish to operate creatively. Weβre viewing this as a chance to be more deliberate artistically, to find ways to express ourselves beyond the typical cycle of shows.
Our plans for next year are pretty much to start over with our writing process, to view the album as a transition toward a new sound that better reflects our individual tastes and perspectives with less consideration to sounding the way we have historically.
Weβve included a non-exhaustive list of albums that weβve really enjoyed over the past year:
Soul Glo β Songs to Yeet at the Sun
Manikineter β Copper Fields [see IDIOTEQ Special HERE]
The Oracle – Hypogeum
Nothing β The Great Dismal
Metz β Atlas Vending
Gulch β Impenetrable Cerebral Fortress
Protomartyr β Ultimate Success Today
Undeath – Lesions of a Different Kind
Microphones – Microphones in 2020
Choir Boy β Gathering Swans
Soft Kill β Dead Kids R.I.P. City
Oneohtrix Point Never – Magic Oneohtrix Point Never
Julianna Barwick β Healing is a Miracle
Ana Roxanne – Because of a Flower
Yves Tumor – Heaven to Tortured Mind
Inherited Wealth lyrics:
surely I could coax a globe
to the fulcrum of my brow,
refracted light through my eyes
finds a smile in a scowl.
but what of the Hell-
that tugs at my tendons concerned of only itself?
and what of the house-
supposing thatβs something I should be concerned about?
age of promise
age of willful indiscretion
age of relics
age of tombs stood proud of their toil
Iβm still brandishing disdain,
still shooing at the thought of old haunts.
for every recollection
thereβs always an interaction with your ghost.(I know its a foolβs errand,
redecorating the room.
I know its a foolβs errand,
redecorating the space.)
all I saw was the blood on the stairs.
the shards of glass in the yard didnβt arrive from a leisurely walk
