by Bambara

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All The Same 04:22
I have found a love that’s meant for me and I will break apart the same. We’re all the same We’re all the same We’re all the same We are the mesa We’re all the same we are the seam We’re all the same we’re all the same
Bird Calls 03:05
Hey I was the light under your clothes that constantly glowed But you wore them anyway just changed the shade with each dress that you chose Even now If you were to die and break the ground with your fall I’d dig a tunnel and crawl Down to where I could here you say That death is a place of white dresses and bird calls People waiting for the train are asking for you by your name now I shake my head in a fragile daze. I’ll just catch the next one.
Hawk Bones 03:22
Have you seen my baby The one with teeth in her hair. I'm not coming home now without her. Have you seen my baby Never seen your baby. The one with holes in her eyes. She's not inside. I'm not coming home now She's not coming home now. without her. Have you seen my baby Never seen your baby. She's as hollow as hawk bones. I don't know. I'm not coming home now She's not coming home now. without her.
Young Mother 01:29
Nail Polish 03:54
When you said your hands look like your father’s I knew you meant without the red nail polish. Back there before it all started I’d never seen that look in your eyes. Now I see it all around In the birds scattered on the ground with twitching wings but they’re still singing The sheets stained just like inkblots but you were so calm then Back there in my old apartment where the moths that ate my clothes smelled just like your perfume Back to the place where it started the sky was pink and red like your old man’s head coughing up a lung when I met you In the freezing rain and you noticed our teeth chattering at the same beat. Now I see it all around in the phones scattered on the ground and I’ll dance dreary to the sound up until they stop ringing
Train Daze 02:44
On the train the people screech along. A girl with her father's feet is standing up. I break her skinny arm into a "z" She holds it above her head, waits for the flash and blinks. The man next to me is shaped just like a dog. He's asking me which stop I'm getting off. I growl into his pointed ear. He crawls away on all fours in tears. I focus on the scratch marks on my back to keep my fragile daze in tact.
Bar 02:50
There were people at the bar where I was born but I don’t know them anymore. You were the image in my head when I was born. While they folded into each others mouths dropping stained teeth on the floor. Then, I saw you in the park when I was four. You burned like a cathedral door. I went back to where you stood, when I was five, all the trees leaned into windows now. Dripping stained glass in my eyes. Then, you touched me on the arm when I was nine. My fingernails cracked with colored lines. And I used that hand to write until I died you walked me back into the bar each new hair dancing with lice.
Divine Teeth 02:20
Divine teeth sit loose in her open mouth. All nine gleam. She’s given the others out. All those divine teeth she throws at the wall like dice and then she smiles sweet like someone who’s won a fight. She reminds me: “This is the stained glass life.” Is she blonde when she dreams Or a baby who is teething under the snow
Z 01:12
Breaker 02:15
They dragged her out by her hair. Well I only saw them when they moved through the stained glass light. Their faces broke into colors and shapes Their faces broke into colors and shapes When they dragged her out through the doorway I saw her face break too into the same cracked colors that they wore. Their patterns moved on her like restless tattoos Pulled a blonde hair out of my comb and all I remember of my baby's face is moving colors and those jagged shapes moving colors and those jagged shapes
Blonde 01:04
Disappear 01:21
You looked so clear to me then with the Christmas lights on. "When we disappear" you said "we'll be better off." "When we disappear our hands will stop."


released April 30, 2013





"This oughta fuck up your sunny day. "Hawk Bones," from Athens, GA three-piece Bambara's debut LP Dreamviolence, comes on like a flash flood, swooping in outta nowhere to rain down three minutes of utter anguish [...] Peel back the skin on "Hawk Bones", and there's no end to the malevolence, from early Swans' back-basement seething to the dark triumphalism of stadium-goth [...] "Hawk Bones" isn't some piddly drizzle fit for dancing around in; you'd be wise to stay indoors and seek shelter where you can." - Pitchfork

"It's easy to mimic old influences; it's something else entirely to call on them in creating a sound that's progressive and completely new. [...] incredible blend of influences like Swans, early Nick Cave, and even Jesus Lizard into something that is truly their own." - VICE/NOISEY

"Lynchian, if Lynch were into hardcore." - Coke Machine Glow

"Complete, utter anguish has never sounded this good." - Tiny Mix Tapes

"As an entity, BAMBARA seem painfully aware of the other possibilities that dreams—and, by extension, our subconscious—hold. They set off to graph that internal terrain and have you take note that they are doing such by virtue of the fact that, for all its rough-and-tumble harshness, the music is cyclical, elliptical, and often otherworldly, its hills and valleys of a fabric composed of an interlacing of things heard and remembered from the real world above. Here, BAMBARA’s sound collage shtick finds conceptual purpose. And, here, BAMBARA’s edge and oily blackness lend “dreamy” a whole new wavelength, one that limns the erratic, volatile, and often frightening nature of our own mental and chemical whims. It wouldn’t be totally off to describe Dreamviolence as manic depressive." -Coke Machine Glow

"drone punk outfit BAMBARA honed their sound into the cathartic, implosive Dreamviolence. It's a record that tumbles end over end from quietly brooding valleys to intoxicating peaks such as this pleasant little tune "Nail Polish." […] "Quite simply put, "Nail Polish", as dark and intense as it gets, winds up being astounding by the tune's end." - Ad Hoc

"The title kinda says it all, hazy, angry, the recorded sounds of nightmare screams through a megaphone played on a handheld tape recorder via a loud PA. Equal parts Birthday Party, Lard, Pigface and AC Temple ensure a dark unrelenting ride through the darker parts of humanity but there are flickers of light and beauty through the destruction. The soundtrack for smashing car windows with bricks, the score for scoring, the sound of the car brakes that send your mouth all metallic. Bambara are all these things and more." - Mike Turner, Collapse Board


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Bambara Brooklyn, New York


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