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Broken Water

by Elephant Rifle

  • Cassette + Digital Album

    Limited to maybe 125 copies with most being available after I am sold out from


    In fact, go buy it from them first. They also have CD and Vinyl and a metric shit tonne of other brilliant releases.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Broken Water via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 14 days
    edition of 125 

      $8 USD or more 

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Kübler-Ross Broken. But it’s alright. It’s OK. Denial. This can’t be happening to me. Bargaining. If I could just have more time. Anger. I refuse to give … If I could just have more time. The New Wimpkiller New Wimpkiller cries crocodile tears. Much to mock surprise, confirmed your worst fears. He is not safe. He is not clean. Says he’s found god. Smoke fills smokescreen. New Bankteller smiles, retells ancient lies. “Back to the witch trials,” New Wimpkiller cries. They are not safe. They are not clean. Says you’ve found trust. Smoke fills smokescreen. They say they need more money, simple fact of survival. They say they need more armies. They have to smash their rivals. They say I’ve got no value, simple act of denial. They’ve never seen me gyrate—let’s give them an eyeful. Bel Biv Devoid The things you buy will never last. Use them just once, and then it’s trash. Throw your telephone away! Two years is ancient for today. Watching all those old movies From like Nineteen-Forty-Five: Smoking all those cigarettes— How are they still alive? Watch today’s flicks in like Twenty-One-Twenty-Six: Staring at their cell phones— No wonder they’re all sick. Dry Nurse Come ride around, My little one. The night is young, My little son. No need to sleep, No need to weep. I know you thirst. My body hurts With dry milk cursed. I’ll find you food, An interlude. We’ll find a ghost Along the road, A sacred host. By gravel streams, To bring you dreams, He says these things: “I’ll wave my hand, Come what can From stardust and sand.” All Locomotive, No Tracks All locomotive, no tracks. Grass has grown amongst my struts. A bird has made its nest in my stack, Gathered twigs and a piece of ribbon. I hear her sing, but I will not give in. All locomotive, no tracks. My brothers have traveled to the West, And some have even come back, Telling tales of well-oiled living. I hear them sing, but I will not give in. The land is wild, no borders welcomed. The man is vile, his murders wanton. The bastards will move faster there, At massive acres, with tracks preferred. The massacres, the massacres. All locomotive, no tracks. All steamed up and nowhere to go— A third act with no climax. Head full of steam and nowhere to blow. Beware illusions of accomplishment. Daily conclusions of rust and regret. Every Billionaire Is a Crime I just got another sixty-five cents, So I take the bus, route number ten, Then walk out beyond the chain-link fence, To a place where no road has ever been. That’s where I have my little home: A tent, a bag, a stove, a coat, a gun. I found the stove; I stole the chrome. I lie down and watch the setting sun. Every billionaire is a crime, Sucking all the blood out of stones. Every billionaire is a crime, Building castles out of worker bones. As the stars come out, I look up. Satellite cameras staring down at me. The blinking of the lights make my heart jump. Nowhere that the panopticon can’t see. I’m often hungry and always cold. I’m afraid. I don’t know when I will die, But I know I’ll never get old, While rich men fly rockets in the skies.
Cig Stain White Been a lot of Rockefellers robbing from the poor. Been a lot of robber barons starting all the wars. Been a lot of little hills not worth dying on, Been a lot of dying beds glorified in song. Dance around the ancient world. Dance it to the grave. Don’t allow the pharaohs to steal another slave. Let’s lynch all the landlords, and let’s kill all the kings. Send those fucking apes back to living in the trees. Living on this planet, a perfect little realm, Let’s not build monuments to gods and fucking clowns. Tear down those stupid walls. They’re only made of fear. Chase away the ghosts. The future is not theirs. Dance around the modern world. Dance it to the grave. Don’t allow the fascists to steal another slave. Let’s lynch all the landlords, and let’s kill all the kings. Send those fucking apes back to living in the trees. Build a better bonfire of all those spangled rags. Light another effigy and take another drag. I want to see some nakedness. I want to dance all night. And would I like to drink some blood? You know, I think I might. Face your failures! Face your fears! Dance around the rocket world. Dance it to the grave. Don’t allow the tyrants to steal another slave. Let’s lynch all the landlords, and let’s kill all the kings. Send those fucking apes back to living in the trees. Medicinal Leeches “I’m a doctor, and I don’t care Just how long you’ve been waiting here. Take a number, wait in line. No respect for anyone else’s time.” “Why do you still gouge us?” “I don’t know. Call insurance.” “What’s with these gross charges?” “We don’t know. Call hospital.” “Don’t ask us. Call your doctor.” “Don’t ask me. Call insurance.” “Don’t ask us. Call hospital.” “Don’t ask us. Call your doctor.” “Insurance agent, and I don’t care Just how much you’ve been spending here. Don’t get sick on our precious dime Or we’re sure to bleed you dry.” “You expect me to listen? Don’t ask me, call a mortician.” “Why call me? What you wishing? For a better pot to piss in?” “We’re Big Pharma, and we don’t care Just how numb inside you are. Take your pills, and you’ll be fine, Trust us, children, and don’t you cry Wolf to your mama. Go see doctor. Tell him we sent you. He’s a specialist. In bleeding, bleeding you dry. Get your blood work done. We profit from other people’s suffering. We profit from other people’s suffering. We profit from other people’s suffering. Insurance, hospital owners profit from other people’s suffering.” WaXXXing GiBBBous Waxing crescent, waxing half-moon Lost my virginity to a girl from Silver City. Waxing gibbous, waning gibbous When my lycanthropy acts up, I ain’t looking pretty. Waning half-moon, waning crescent Spores, Molds & Fungus Private Beach Look at my hair. See how it flows? Look at my skin. See how it glows? Check out my tan. See how I bronze? Here, touch my hands. Here, feel my arms. Been a long life, but it ain’t surviving. Got an idea, and it ain’t so violent. Got a little wet, and it ain’t saliva. Somewhere to go, and it ain’t so private. Look at my mouth. See how it foams? Follow my breath. Hear how I groan? See how I glow? Here, touch my skin. The water is fine, so come on in. The water is fine, so come on in The water.


Their fourth full length (vinyl on Learning Curve and CD from Hummaniterrorist) and the second cassette from No List Records.
We are so happy to present this meandering journey through the wilds of northern Nevada with pit stops in feral punk, caveman hardcore and cerebral loud rock for an intoxicating blend of riffs and lyrics that will delight fans and the uninitiated equally.
These are the quality jams you have come to expect from No List Records and we are honoured to be able to attempt to give back to this quartet a fraction of what they have given to us.

PURCHASE DIGITAL/VINYL/CD directly from those lovely gentlemen at



released April 28, 2023

All songs by Elephant Rifle.

Scaught Bates - bass guitar, bongos, jaw harp, shakers, theremin, vocals
Brad Bynum - vocals, piano, electric piano, organ, Rat Tug
Clinton Wallace - electric and acoustic guitars, dulcimer, organ, vocals
Michael Young - drums, percussion, vibraphone

Jenn Archerd - vocals
Tim Green - ring modulator

Recorded by Tim Green at Louder Studios.
Produced by Tim Green and Elephant Rifle.
Artwork by Michael Sarich.
Photo by Metal Jeff.
Dry Nurse, Cig Stain White, Medicinal Leeches & Waxxxing Gibbbous written with Mike Mayhall.
Kübler-Ross written with Troy Micheau.

This album was made with support from The Nevada Arts Council and The National Endowment for the Arts.


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No List Records Winnipeg, Manitoba

Loud rock.

2024 marks 30 years since our first release. Cell Press and Moon Pussy on the dock. Elephant Rifle and Shallow ND Tribute sets still available.

kill me now.

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