Get all 5 Bipolar Bears releases available on Bandcamp and save 30%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of 3.5, Sparrow's Winter (Live in Leads), 'Aina Makua, PRZESTĘPSTWA, and Interpolar Link.
1. |
The War Is Over
06:09
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The war is over, we simply found a way out for you. The world is sober and occupied with something new. Where are you now, little broken thing, where are you hiding these days? What's your neurotic life like since we parted ways? I can't feel your breath on my neck and I can't feel your tears in my eyes. And I've been everything else than you know, everything else you could attempt to recognize. The war is over, we are no longer required to interact. A severed connection and sweet, sweet closure... Everything is wrapped up, the bridge has been burned and all the structures have collapsed. The revolution seems to have left us with a bloody mess, but never again will I be forced to fight you again. Tired muscles can finally rest a bit. I guess I will be on my way, I've got a life to sustain. Regardless of anything I have ever said, the cord is cut and will never be mended. The war is over, we are no longer required to interact. A severed connection and sweet, sweet closure... Everything is wrapped up, the bridges have been burned and all the structures have collapsed. The war is over and everything is wrapped up.
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2. |
PS
06:14
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Standing like a statue, lurk a little, live a little. Come on and prove me wrong and disprove these versions of us, completely lost on the edge of a sub-plot. Crawl a little closer, now it's easy. It's getting clearer. It's the idea, that's underneath your knees like a surface of freedom and forgetfulness. Give it all your madness, speak as little as you need to. Tomorrow you'll sever the lie with a clean cut of the line of your memory. Right now you'd better be the thing that triggers me. If something's in the way of the truth, I'm sure it's you. Now start being who you need to see in you.
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3. |
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I have outgrown my desperate need to be yours in the meantime. But what can I do when I'm on the wrong side of everything? It's time to accept. It's time to adapt. Being reasonable doesn't cut it anymore and the need for acceptance cannot be ignored here. My kin are insane and I hate most of my friends but i need to have a home. I envy birds and insects because they occupy a universal territory and they're drawn to each other by the laws of nature and don't have my worries, my worries, don't deal with broken ideas, idiotic teachings, moronic family values and tradition we are forced to follow or defy in the name of our identity and inner peace. I have outgrown my desperate need to be yours in the meantime. But what can I do when I'm on the wrong side of everything. Is it time to accept? Is it time to adapt? I don't think so. I don't want this.
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4. |
Od ucha do brzucha
04:30
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Poza twoim polem widzenia powstają rzeczy, które ty po prostu zjadasz. Komentujesz, oceniasz i dopowiadasz, nie wiedząc jak powstaje twoje jedzenie. Tu kryje się odpowiedź - nie wyobrażasz sobie jak tu jest w środku pięknie bez ciebie, zobacz... Czego nie ma po tej stronie membran głośnika to ty. Jesteśmy sami, nawet z myśli znikasz. Piękna sprawa, że mogę cię obrażać, bluźniąc ci wprost do ucha, bo wiem, że mnie nie słuchasz. Przecież to tylko tekst, puste słowa. Przecież to nie o tobie... Od ucha do brzucha, żresz i ledwie słuchasz. Potem wyrzygasz swoje zdanie o pracy mojej. Sztuka to twoja suka - iluzja podstawowa i święta Wolność Słowa, to wszystko czego szukasz.
EAR TO BELLY - Beyond your field of vision things are created that you just consume. You judge, comment, break in, unaware how your food is made. Here lies the answer - you have no idea how beautiful it is in here, without you. Absent from this side of the speaker's drivers, you disappear even from our thoughts, leaving us all alone. How great it is that I can insult you, uttering irreverence right into your ear, ‘cause I know you aren't listening. After all, these are just lyrics, empty words, it’s not about you, or is it? Ear to belly, you gobble and barely listen. Then you'll vomit your opinion of my work. Art is your bitch - a fundamental illusion, and Holy Freedom of Speech, that's all you need.
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5. |
Fight for the Ordinary
04:26
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I see us turning simple and skies turning purple. Settle for normal and calm the fuck down, people! To save the arts it's the rise of a temple of predictability. To cripple the future, move away from mic, step away from the canvas. Utilitarians unite! Unite! We will not survive unless we are diversified by no more than sixteen shades of grey. There are many templates to choose from just keep it simple and keep it down. Who are you to defy what's already been defined? Why do you keep on insisting on relying exclusively on your intuitive understanding of what art is supposed to be? Generations of trials, studying and keeping score of reactions and you claim to know better? You should know better... I will eat you if you trim out the fat. I will swallow you if you take out the sour and leave the sweet. But right now I can't eat you. I can't digest you.
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6. |
How It's Unmade
04:09
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We all like to listen to music and we love certain music albums for a certain period of time. Once we stop loving it, the album needs to be destroyed and wiped out from our memory. But how is it done? It’s a music fan’s nightmare and the music industry’s everyday problem: how to disassemble a recorded album when its existence is no longer necessary. Whether the medium is a vinyl record, compact disc or a collection of digital files in a system folder, the album is sent to the Music Disassembly Plant. However, it must first be collected from those colourful, special bins in your area or special Internet Music Scrap Collection Points. At the incoming inspection point, the staff checks if the album is at least one year old. If so, it can be safely scrapped and forgotten; special scanners connected to a data base do the trick quite quickly. A very simple machine, called ‘the hangman’, strips the music data from vinyl records and other physical media. Bare data is then sent as digital files to the collection pool, where all digital albums are sent from Internet Music Scrap Collection Points. The physical media is then recycled. Dance, dance, dance, sha-la-lah. Dance, baby, dance, sha-la-lah. Dance, sucker, dance, dance, sha-la-lah. Dance, my young Padawan, sha-la-leah. Now that all files are digital files in different popular formats, they need to be decompressed and converted into their original, raw ‘wave’ format. Older and vintage albums created without the use of digital equipment, are now temporarily stored on master tapes, just like when they came out of the studio. Sound engineers receive mastered albums, reverse the mastering process and send the raw mixed material to the disassembly area. This is where music is split into separate tracks of instruments, synthetic elements and vocals. The solo tracks are then sorted by a software algorithm into recyclable ideas that may be re-used by the industry and alternative non-mainstream concepts. These, on the other hand, are ground into musical sawdust and sold as single-note re-fills for synthesizers and virtual instruments. Now that the old albums have been disassembled and destroyed, they can be easily forgotten and replaced by next generations of their kind.
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7. |
Różowe zabawki
04:05
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Żeby móc chodzić, będziesz miała po co żyć. Jestem ojcem w twoim kojcu, twoim końcem od początku. Podpowiedź i Sugestia to imiona moich córek. Nie muszą odkrywać i myśleć bo wolność bywa płachtą, która przysłania słońce w tak piękny dzień, gdy leżymy na trawie przeglądając katalog rzeczywistości dla ciebie i mnie. Różowa maskotka skrada się cicho, zgładzi twoje serce, twój umysł odpycha. Jest jeszcze zbyt wcześnie, by było za późno, byś była istotą żyjącą na próżno. Nauczę cię jak rezygnować, nim staną się myśli i zrodzą pomysły - powstrzymasz je. Różowa maskotka skrada się cicho, zgładzi twoje serce, twój umysł odpycha. Różowe zabawki, błękitne karteczki, słodycz paruje, potencjał wysycha.
PINK TOYS - To be able to walk, you'll have something to live for. I'm the father in your playpen, your end from the beginning. Guidance and Suggestion are the names of my daughters. There's no need for them to discover or think, cause sometimes freedom is a canopy blocking the sunlight on such a beautiful day, as we lie on the grass looking through a catalogue of realities available for you and me. The pink teddy lurks quietly, it will slay your heart and push your mind away. It's still too early to be too late for you to live a purposeless life. I will teach you to give up ideas and independent thoughts before they are even born, you will put them on hold. The pink teddy lurks quietly, it will slay your heart and push your mind away. Pink toys and little blue notes, sweetness evaporates and potential fades away.
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8. |
Saliva
05:07
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I spit therefore I am. Saliva drips from the face of a grown man. We like to think we are here alone with a few of our friends. I used to love this place, now I dream of tidal waves and bacteria bringing it to an end. I spit upon my home and I'd love to be here alone, for a couple of days before it's all gone. I spit upon this hole and I'd love to be here alone, for a couple of days before it's all gone.
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9. |
'Aina Makuawahine
06:37
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If Satan himself (existed and) came bearing fire and sickness to torture the brave, he'd take back to hell a picture of 38,5 million heads in the sand. It's the perfect soil and fine history that keeps us divided and scared. Mother loves her children so much they would never leave her and just fly away. Born thirsty and feisty I swap depression for aggression. Mother keeps me warm and I keep myself normalized for her and she knows I will break bones and smash jaws with sticks and stones for her. Mother keeps me warm and I keep myself normalized for her and she knows I will break her foes. I will kill her foes.
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