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Collapse 02:02
The answer. At first, beautiful. Servant of life, balm for pain. At first. The sacrifice seems worth it, A manageable cost. At first problems cast into some corner to be dealt with a future day True cost Engulfs the whole of life. In time. Takes over. Taken. Possessed by spirit.. Drives you. Driven by unmet needs. Driven by quiet despair. Driven by promises to fix. Numb to the source. Numb to the pain. Numb to the lies. But as always, the power to numb dies Waiting pain no longer waits till tomorrow The road back is as long or longer. Destruction used to be so easy to ignore with the escape, with the noise, with your eyes shut. But now. Insulation over. Allure gone. Romance ruined. Vomit on the floor. The fabric of life unravels. This moment: a new choice. Surrender yourself. You clearly haven’t the power you were seeking Heel yourself. Give yourself up to something greater. Surrender yourself back to you. ———————————— In response to pain and trauma (pick and choose, it’s all around us), we mask it with distractions of all types. We crawl out from under the weight of discomfort through myriad means (choose your poison). On the return from the high, the world we return to is as fucked up or more so than at our time of personal departure. So we depart again. A routine, subconscious cycle that dictates our lives and defines our existence. We can find the strength and supports to land back in the world and face and work on (personally and collectively) the broken shit.
We’ve lived in this home for so long. A lineage. It’s handed down to hands who far from built it. Now just brother and sister; left from generations. This is what’s legacy. Walls and a roof that keep in shadows. And dust gathers again each dusk. Everyday chores and routine. But we aren’t the only ones here. Something stirs in the darkness of the recessed rooms. Muffled steps, voices, noises from the other side. The sound of something crashing to the floor. Shut the door with lock, cut your losses. Sounds in the next room. Keeps rattling the doors. He won't leave. The ghost in the next room Keeps tapping the walls. The work’s unfinished. The day is never done. The ghost in the next room keeps tapping the walls, keeps rattling the doors. Ghost in the next room Has kicked down the door. ———————————— We reside on stolen land. We have delineated fictitious “walls” to “protect” what we’ve appropriated by genocidal violence, taking and justifying. Now there is shock “others” filtered in and continue to. We are unaware of, or ignore, the factors the US contributes (and has historically) to the displacement of people now in dire situations. Nobody wants to leave their home. If there’s a rattling at your door, ask who this house used to belong to.
At Horizon 03:16
Smashed our face against horizon. Shards of shattered teeth slice into our eyes. A funhouse mirror. Keeps us staring the wrong direction. Keeps our sights locked on illusions. The illusion. That now we have to live in. Oh dear god no, this is it. We have landed. This is it. And it’s nothing like was promised. We ended up too far. The edge of a cliff of a collective dream sold over and over again by the architects, the engineers to keep mother machine humming. The boxes have been ticked. They’ve ran off with all we’ve given them. Fists full of bags full of hopes and dreams. The golden city. Premonitions from childhood books. The year 2000. And it's all just sand in hands. Gold dust blowing down the abyss. Gold dust blowing into our eyes. The edge. The end. Can we run back? Can we turn back? ———————————— The future, a vision of beautiful technologies, looked so promising in the glossy color pictures of children’s books—the promise that further technologies would assuage the stresses and crises generated and compounded by previous technologies. We have and continue to assure ourselves that governments and industry will solve the catastrophes upon us. We believe they will choose to value people and nature over short-sighted, short-term, disgusting, personal interests. We are finally here, at the mouth of the end. Nature is about to break the narrative that “everything will be fine. Leave it up to those in charge. The technologies to correct the path are soon to arrive” doesn’t feel as reassuring as it once may have.
The sons of the enemy. Oh, the fucking irony. Rallying for “life,” but such contempt for it and its beauty. Technicians of suffering. Contagious with envy. A harvest of misery. Predatory mentality. A villainous legacy. What you take, you can’t give back. What you took, you won’t give back. Contempt for wisdom. Contempt for truth. Contempt for sacred. Complicity in history. Red hats and eyes and hearts of hate ———————————— That our culture produces children of privilege who lack care, compassion, empathy and respect for those who have historically been, and currently are, on the wrong side of injustice at the hands of ugly cultures and systems is infuriating. Can’t be tolerated and should be shamed. Children feeling entitled to wear emblems of hate and speak statements and insults that echo/mirror a general disdain fostered and perpetuated to benefit a few irresponsible, unworthy, greedy individuals at the expense of many is a sign of sickness. It is nothing to be celebrated. It is something that needs to be eradicated. That smirk on your face fits so gross.
Void : Unity 02:55
It was on those days the rain taught us lessons. Sky came crashing. The rain wouldn’t stop. It was on those days silence rang alarms. And we were all alone. We were all alone. If these words ring true they’re yours and mine. Live in them. Grow them in your heart. Seeds we’ve always shared. Fuck independence. Let’s build a heart together instead. If I reach out to you, will you reach back? We’ve got each other. I’m here for you. We looked to find a home. We looked to find the others. We looked to find a family of us who shared hearts and minds. This sound is glue. This word is bond. This day is us. This night is now. Your eyes are stars. My eyes caught yours. We came to learn to work our hands, fueling them with burning blood and love. You are welcome here. This is your home. You are welcome here. Let’s build our hearts together. We belong here. This is home. We belong here. This is us. Fill it with friends; reach for my hand Fill it with love; reach for their hearts. Fill it with filling other’s hearts. Let’s not live an empty life. Fill it up with one another. Fill it up with all of us. Fill this space with all of us. And you reach out. Reconnect to an I that’s us. And I reach out. Lose the fear. Reach out. Lose the fear. Open your arms. Let them in. Be the cove. Be the shelter of this storm that’s taught us the cruelty of the ocean. ———————————— We never felt completely connected, or we were slowly pushed out; we rejected aspects of culture and systems; we were outcasted by others or by personal choice, a refusal to take part. But at some point, desperate and hoping for a kinder, more caring, more fitting alternative to what we’d been handed, we stumbled upon this refuge called punk, called hardcore. It felt like home and it became our school, our church, our family. This weird, fucked up, organic community/culture that we all help shape and build and sustain despite the forces and influences that can affect it negatively. Let’s keep doing the work. Make sure this place keeps being a haven to those who need it.



One of our favorite bands in the late 90's was Former Members of Alfonsin; Some of the most emotional and inspirational lyricism we ever heard in hardcore at the time. When we found out Alex Frixione was once again was putting pen to paper for a band, we jumped on this opportunity without evening hearing the music. And when we listened to a rough demo, we knew then, that we should always go with our gut instincts. PEOPLE PERSON come out of Portland, OR by way of Santa Barbara and Los Angeles. Interlacement of the heavy with the melodic as it's base and raw, heartfelt lyrics at its center, will definitely bring enlightenment to anyone searching for something more.

*For cassette purchase visit Extinction Burst (link in bio)


released May 21, 2020

Alex Frixione - vocals
Aaron Belchere - guitar/vocals
Alice Mollo - bass
Rudi Jung - drums/vocals
Max Ono - guitar


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Extinction Burst Victorville, California

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