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Salvation (EP)

by Fold

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    High quality full colour card wallet with printed CD.
    Cover design by Claudia Wafer.
    Original Artwork by Gerald Lopez.


    Includes unlimited streaming of Salvation (EP) via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 29 Fold releases available on Bandcamp and save 20%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Sustain, Instros & Alternates, Volumes 3 & 4, Take It All Back, Victoria Falls, Aphelion: a tribute to Lorraine Hansberry, Aphelion (Single), Insurgent Mood (Single), The Prize (Single), and 21 more. , and , .

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Save the promise of protection Save the connections Save the procession Save the confessions Save the pressure of public perception Save the treasure that comes from collection Save winter’s discontentment, a cold summer’s resentment Save voter apathy, a crap football team and short spans of attention Save mishandled scandals, undamaged faith in professionals Save the alchemist that balances science and intervention Save industrial strikes Save the extra daylight Save the rainy days, last night a DJ saved my life Pray that unknown Tinas aren’t saved by well known Ikes Save the good intentions that pave the days of our lives Save electricity Save the bumblebee Save the humble ministry from tumbling amongst the weeds Save the police deputies and sheriffs that messed with Bob Marley Save the deterrent inherent in all the world’s armies Save us from the next flood, earthquake or tsunami Save the invite Save the party Save us from belief Save us from the grief Save us from the separation of the chaff from the wheat Save the daily bread, the daily rice, the daily peas Save the missing pieces to make the jigsaw complete So before an offer can be made of salvation Let’s save ourselves and then work on the nation.
My desires have fallen victim to my pauses as my promises will fall a victim to my breath Yet as twilight forms a victim to the morning my life shall never become a victim of my death Who is the oppressor and who are the oppressed? Who controls the mould that traps our souls for he who rolls the dice holds the keys to treasure’s chest Freedom can sail in on a half-shell but does it ride the wave of a crest? The full moon forms a cocoon so we delightfully dance to the tunes played by somebody else You see everybody knows that on the streets you rule You’re hoodied up to self-destruct but yet you look so cool You make others love to copy every move you do but your plight keeps them amused because you act the fool But in the company board rooms - we never see your face there Why die for post codes that you don't own because bruv, nobody cares The only slang this world understands is about the juice you got to spare to buy the bricks between the mortar or the land beneath the air Only effective journeys are worth repeating and only reflective fables are worth rereading For a story can never be told in the same way twice and different generations each remould an old excuse to give it life But can we honestly claim to be a victim all the time? Is our sickness fully owned by the man who holds the dice? So, who is the oppressor and who are the oppressed? Its the thinking of remaining a victim in this life that brings you death
Born of distant chimes from Big Ben sounding out clear are now but faded harmonics in history's memory Recollections of thoughts, opinions, slangs and ideas each government reinvents the wheel rotating new energy Each debate is but a fragmented echo of past voices once heard each law a composition of their melody Each new scandal is a revelation of what's already occurred as the future desires make amnesia hereditary Call out to the same buildings where the lawmakers now roam call out to these pavements of pedigree Question the side-street philosophies of these corners of stone the dead ends that turn our neighbours into enemies If Westminster could speak, what secrets would it leak if the concretes could talk would it tell? If the gutters and drains could wash away our pain could it wash away the stain of our guiltiness as well? For far far away from the tales of this parliament dear lies a land full of wonder 'a plenty A place of Mesopotamian and Persian ideals where dark gold would eventually legalise a dark entry Call out to the desert, the sand and the wind call out to a civilisation of centuries Call out to the flesh meeting bullets of sin a dangerous oasis now proved to be empty If only the oil could repent for the trouble it caused and our appetite could relinquish its frenzy If only the fire for the fuel could apologise for the shock and the awe would our memoirs be linked to such legacy So reply to Big Ben's chimes throughout the ages of time remind this common house that its bound to its penalties Let us pray that the laws which govern all our lives ring true with a new virtue of fidelity
You say I look familiar, no I doubt that you've ever noticed me As I sweep the city streets early in the morning when you're usually asleep And in the evening when you're yawning and maybe forgotten to brush your teeth I'm constantly polishing to keep the toilet seats in your office squeaky clean So obviously my face is unfamiliar to you for we live in worlds apart You won't see me begging on the corner or offering to wash the windows on your car I have no drugs to sell you, I provide no call girls to thrill you And I'm quite sure that I've never threatened to mug, rob or kill you So is it any wonder that our paths have never crossed? You seem lost; questioning whether or not I actually exist I inhabit the lowest positions where my face is only just allowed to fit I know I don't speak the language too good I know that my culture and my customs are sometimes misunderstood And yes, I'm easily overlooked because I've never committed a crime for your tabloid articles - those paranoid charters full of stories detailing how I'm ripping out your heart and have no function in your society for the life of me its remarkable Do you think the toilets actually clean themselves? Or that the warehouses cast a fantasy spell to magically stack their shelves? My labour is exploited daily for next to nothing From fitted eletrical systems to problems with kitchen and bathroom plumbing Yet my only dream is to see my children free from such struggling So I'll take all the hatred this world has to give The experience is humbling I work in the restaurants that feed you, the hospitals that heal you Cut me and I bleed too my feelings aren't see-through Yet you pass me every day with nothing left to say then go home and speculate about how I don't assimilate? I understand your frustration with the changing face of this nation I come from the place where cheap labour came from Different continents its the same song But I work to provide my keep, and my keep provides my heat and the rent and the food for my family to eat But tell me, what do you see? A criminal, a wastrel, an immigrant ungrateful? No I'm none of the above labels except maybe a convenient scapegoat So forget that you ever saw me, just ignore me And we'll both carry on walking undaunted - passing as strangers.


"It is a credit to both Fold and Mr Gee that they have managed to create an EP that sticks firmly to their principles, yet still should appeal to a wide audience, all while sounding incredibly brilliant." - Christopher McBride (The Metaphorical Boat)


released October 28, 2013

P & © 2013 Seth Mowshowitz.

Recorded by Fold and Mr Gee in Leeds and London.
Vocals on 1, 2 & 4 recorded at Fossil Studios, London.
Produced & mixed by Fold.
Mastered at Cottage Road Studios, Leeds.
Original Artwork BY Gerald Lopez.
Art Direction by Claudia Wafer.


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Fold Leeds, UK

Fold is a conscious music band from Leeds rooted in funk, jazz, psyche and hip hop.

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