by Drenches

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We have 35 transparent tapes with risograph printed sustainable cardboard cases. If you are interested, just send us a message.

Speak up against fascism, racism, nationalism, sexism, homophobia, speciesism and every other form of oppression.
Thank you for supporting small bands like us and keeping DIY alive.


released August 13, 2015

Recorded, mixed and mastered by André at Fortefortissimo Recordings in 2014.




Drenches Bamberg, Germany

Drenches is Jonas, Marcus, Pelli, Steffen.

Feel free to talk to us about anything.

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Track Name: Part I
I still can't explain why spoken words of comfort fall apart in thoughts of giving in. Every little expectation turns out to be a dream I'm not able to fulfill, haunting me, taking sleep. Every minute awake keeps my confidence weak. I seek salvation in my, I find destruction, no peace. And I'm said to walk with my head in black clouds, live in whispered voices, touched bottom far too many times. But it's a farce to keep hopes up, when you've got to trust in lies to stay alive. Hoping for the best got me expecting the worst, my vicious circle shaped by anxiety. And I'm losing the ones as I knew them, or don't I know what my heart is all about? And despite everything I speak out loud, it's myself that keeps me down. Your fucking words outwear my painful truth every time my burning eyes won't close at night. Lie awake, scrutinise my own, cursed with a mind too black and dawned. »Keep this coincidence alive, smile on what seems right.« I lost control in the bluest hour, I lost myself in my own mind. And I burst off in endless nights.
Track Name: Part II
You should know that I'm afraid to defy any explanation in this absurdity called life. Words fail me. What are we capable of? Loathing myself into the ground, buried deep in thoughts to never be found fine. Dragging you down to see where I'm locked in. So what am I supposed to do, exist on the best terms I can? So far it never taught me anything. I'm deathward torn, trying to reach for life. I try, I try. But what's content, with a certainty in death. Embed me into world's mess. Caught in absurdity. Living coincidence. What else can I say when words are in vain. Or am I just thinking too much about things that noone would dare to waste a thought on? As I always do. As I fucking always do. I am unspoken and I could never ask you to put up with me. A fucking need for relief, pathetic living without an answer to me. Is it true what you say? »It comes with age. There's no right way.« But does it help? So quiet, so persistent – I guess I've already made a choice.