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The Killing of Eugene Peeps

by Bastien Keb

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Vladimir Chicken
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Vladimir Chicken don't need to understand what's happening in the invisible movie. sounds great Favorite track: Bookie.
cegluka
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cegluka Just a dream, a life, a moment, a better drug. Favorite track: Alligator.
chris ex
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chris ex One of the Albums of the year.
Bastien Keb creates a unique lo fi library jazz and more masterpiece.
Thierry
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Thierry This album is something special. I don't want to draw too many comparisons, but Bon Iver meets Tom Waits is my elevator pitch I suppose. It's an amazing accomplishment, an album with a gripping story that is melancholic, mysterious yet super groovy at points. It drips with character, a surreal (at points) ode to noir stories. That's what it is for me at least. It's an old cat: lurking in filthy gutters, blood-soaked, yet beautiful and soft to the touch. Favorite track: All The Love in Your Heart.
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    180g 12インチ 33rpmレコード;ライナーノーツ(原雅明)、歌詞対訳 付き; 出荷は日本国内のみ。(12月頭よりUSおよびUKからの限定枚数出荷開始予定)

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    ライナーノーツ(原雅明)、歌詞対訳 付き; 出荷は日本国内のみ。(12月頭よりUSおよびUKからの限定枚数出荷開始予定)

    Replica Mini LP-Style Sleeve CD with Obi strip
    Including Liner notes by Masaaki Hara, and lyric translation
    Shipping from Japan; limited quantities available from the US and UK

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    Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Includes unlimited streaming of The Killing of Eugene Peeps via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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1.
Main Title 01:47
I always wanted more, I always hoped there was more. The closest I ever got was the lights of a city, of a gas station, the smell and dim lights of the cinema, some purpose. The city at night is a beautiful thing. Take me away, I want out.
2.
3.
Rabbit Hole 03:23
He never asked her to clean his bones Thick with tar and caked in mould She wont wait forever or wade through his oats and bones He never asked to clean his bones But they could have slept like rabbits Wrapped up in warm tartan blankets But she lives in a garden And he’s trapped with wolves and giants He couldn’t vanish all her fears He’d been hiding in the woods She wont wait forever Just let his bones decay Eaten up by his giants He’ll sleep under flowers and trees Wrapped up in soil Now they can all just sleep.
4.
5.
6.
Can't Sleep 01:16
He’s standing on the corner, holding his life in an old pair of socks. All the while she’s sitting on his chest. He never really knew kindness, his fat hands and swollen throat ignored by most.  People never did worry about his hands, they needn’t have, they were more suited to his pockets. Empty dark spaces like their owner. But now he wont sleep, you can't sleep with a full neck.
7.
8.
Young Ponies 02:49
O’joy o joy, the rain bring the rats and the rats bring all the good old critters of the nights. I don’t sleep, how do I find my peace, I don’t want to find my peace, all new trousers and smiles. Life never told him about despair or the gutters. But there’s life in the sewers. Loneliness is a thinking man’s vocation. Happiness is for doers and triers. I suppose love is the both the fortunate and the unfortunate Depending on your perspective. But all that her jaw was for Was only the raising of two sparkly eye young ponies And a provider, gifted with humour And thoughts of a scratched woodland torso Did not sail on her ocean Thank the lord Thank the lord.
9.
Street Clams 03:12
10.
Diesel Days, months and hours pass by Steady progressing Ethos See whilst them days, months and hours pass by I’m steady progressing, knowing that these plans could reap off Ethos Diesel Smoked paprika on the Jordan cap Diesel off the rails again I’m moving like a force of nature On and off the tops I burn up like a tinder box Your blindsided by the blaze provided When I torch the page up Focused solely on my core progression I’m cutting ties in order to survive when other’s failing Investing shrewd until them shares plus the funds quadruple Stocking up on precious metals ‘til the cupboards cave in It was written way before the snapbacks and the fitted Vocabulary spills I’m illest, turning dust to ashes I cut the fabric most bespoke, tailor made to order Been looping lines from early 99’s and tape recorders Your product flat without the baking powder This shit is self-raising, prophesised and H2O proof Me and this mic’s like Barksdale and Stringer Bell Your second tier to this Champions League, NFL Remaining in that 50th percentile The vocals is never docile Forget the low brows, I’m too dope Grinding while these emperors in their new cloaks Is unconscious to the facts Hid under their noses, that’s another dosage Sick notes: them hard hitting flows Carl Froch’s and Klitschko’s, Mayweather’s and Joshua’s Ford Coppola’s lost in this translation I’m Hans Christian Anderson Grimms’ Tales when the ink spills Cus when all else fails I’m back in this attic Linking up accurate grammars To trap chapters in track form Constructing a poem like it’s a trap door 20 deep, this music is my passport Ya already know Whilst them days, months and hours pass by I’m steady progressing, waiting for these plans to reap off Time you spend that no one else sees Behind them closed doors It’s what you build up in your own time That’s now the ethos Ten thousand hours more we’re climbing Ten thousand hours plus we keep locked From the ground up, for the long haul is now the ethos From the ground up, to the long haul Vast majority’s, you’re hooked up on them formulaic’s Tried and tested methods, I’m looking to crack those moulds Keep the templates, but work within a vaster frame Redundant emulators of respect I’m looking past those goals Whatever’s put down on the page or on the boards is raw Territory’s unexplored and I record the molten lava Golden ingots, scorching chariots of fire I run the gauntlets for the chosen, carrying this torch I’m tryna see beyond this deepest yonder Reaching for that leap of faith To speak without the sweeping statements Cut away the rotten roots, alleviate the latents Retain the purest and concise and separate the waves Split this shit up into parts and pieces for marginal gains Until the page is gushing ink like an artery vein Still remain my own worst enemy, staring my reflection Chasing ghosts that’s hid within them overtaking lanes Protect my intellect property using coded rhetoric Grandiose hyperbole, fly burgundy Nike stripes on the curve peak Pied Piper of words, breathe life back in this corpse culture Grand Wizard Mucha Cus when all else fails I’m back in this attic Linking up accurate grammars To trap chapters in track form Constructing a poem like it’s a trap door 20 deep, this music is my passport Ya already know And whilst them days, months and hours pass by I’m steady progressing, waiting for these plans to reap off Time you spend that no one else sees Behind them closed doors It’s what you build up in your own time That’s now the ethos Ten thousand hours more we’re climbing Ten thousand hours plus we keep locked From the ground up, for the long haul is now the ethos From the ground up, to the long haul And whilst them days, months and hours pass by I’m steady progressing, waiting for these plans to reap off Time you spend that no one else sees Behind them closed doors It’s what you build up in your own time That’s now the ethos Ten thousand hours more we’re climbing Ten thousand hours plus we keep locked From the ground up, for the long haul is now the ethos From the ground up, to the long haul Diesel.
11.
12.
Bookie 01:41
13.
The Clerk 00:28
14.
Murmurs 00:17
15.
The trains don’t keep me up now, Nor the drunks or the creeps. The volumes been turned down and now All that keeps me up is the loneliness As the world got quieter my thoughts got louder I want to be left alone. Burrow down under the snow like rabbits. Too much chatter too much noise in my head My fingers old lumps of meat, crooked and pink But I wont die, the resilience of a old man Thinking I could’ve been something Left hanging on by gristle and spit.
16.
And by the way did you learn that at book club I thought you played a very elegant game Here lies Helen Ruth Francis  After 20 mins of oldest grave Gave me a winner 1856 to 1962 Now who’s buying the chicken ducky Lucky, Yeah lucky 1856 to 1962 Look who’s lying down here lucky, And look how long they have been lying here.
17.
Alligator 05:31
(Chorus) There’s alligators in the water And the boat has all but sunk Now your clothes are not your own Clothes are not your own There’s alligators in the water And the boat has all but sunk Now your clothes are not your own Clothes are not your own (Verse 1) Young man you must do want your mother says Don’t tear another good woman apart Hang your coat on the hook on the back of the door Don’t hid in the corner, Poets are dead (Chorus) (Verse 2) You heard that song she’s loves about the young girl and the gun But it don’t sound the same anymore You were on your own Now it reads just like a book Nowhere feels like home (Chorus) (Outro) Hang your coat on the hook on the back of the door Don’t hide in the corner, Poets are dead Hang your coat on the hook on the back of the door Don’t hide in the corner, Poets are dead Hang your coat on the hook on the back of the door Don’t hide in the corner, Poets are dead Fade away
18.
The world creaks at night, there’s a longing, an aching. Millions of people all within reach of another, but lonely, forgotten, unwanted. A discarded shoe stuck in a storm drain, the last Christmas tree on the lot, a Coralla wanting for the compactor. Maybe I’m wrong maybe it’s just me. God knows, God doesn’t wanna hear my woes. There’ll be better times ahead, I hear hell’s nice this time of year.

about

日本語は英語の後に続きます。

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"One that recalls, variously, the proto-trip-hop of Serge Gainsbourg and Jean-Claude Vannier, the rumbling scores of Bernard Herrmann and the cinematic swagger of Barry Adamson." - John Lewis, The Guardian

A soundtrack to an imagined film...

Bastien Keb presents his third album, 'The Killing of Eugene Peeps', an ode to Giallo, 70s crime flicks, and French new wave cinema. Befit with downbeat anti-ballads, psychedelic folk, and warped soliloquies, the music is an imagined score to a film that exists only in Keb's mind.

The album was conceived, composed, performed, and produced by Bastien Keb in his bedroom. The music flows between spoken word narrative pulled from Keb's own journals, hauntingly layered vocals that conjure up dreamscapes and nostalgia, and rich, orchestral arrangements which were in fact all recorded via one singular microphone. Various contributions from longtime collaborators include Nottingham-based rapper Cappo, narrator Kenneth Viota, and album artwork by artist Will Morrison, who has worked with Bastien Keb for several years. The record was mixed by Keb and Goetz Botzenhardt, who specialises in TV and film music and has mixed music for Madonna, Doctor Who, the award-winning film Under The Skin, Björk, and Pet Shop Boys.

A guitarist first and foremost; Keb also plays trumpet, bass, drums, piano, flute and more - many borrowed, donated or found instruments. Layering his voice to imaginative effect, you may hear influences of Bon Iver or Jai Paul but in truth it’s more indebted to the widescreen soul of The Impressions or The Delfonics. Kenneth Viota, Claudia Kane, Cappo and Camille Limoges contribute a supporting cast of voices across the album.

What people say about Bastien Keb:

"A new kind of spaced out jazz music" - Gilles Peterson

“One of the most exciting musicians emanating out of London at present.” - Dummy Mag

“Plenty of aural goodness” - The Ransom Note

“There’s a gluey analogue warmth to his productions which flow into each other with effortless charm.” - The Vinyl Factory

Bastien Keb's debut album Dinking in the Shadows of Zizou, released through One-Handed Music, subtly nudged itself into public consciousness in 2015. It drew the attention of myriad press and radio and briskly established itself with its endearing mix of downbeat anti-ballads, off-centre instrumentals and warped funk. This was followed by a period of remix projects via tracks by Submotion Orchestra, Paper Tiger, Pedestrian, and Quiet Dawn. Keb’s second album, 22.02.85, was a grittier yet more colourful project released via First Word in 2017.

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ジェイミー・カラム、ジャイルス・ピーターソン、ヒュー・スティーブンスらをはじめとする人気DJ達 から多大なる支持を受けてきたバスティン・ケブは、ジャズ、ソウル、ファンクを融合し、ヒップ ホップのテイストが加わったその独特のサウンドからボン・イヴェールやジェイ・ポールらと比較さ れることが多かった。そんな彼の、 2015年のデビュー・アルバム『ディンキング・イン・ザ・シャドウズ・オブ・ジズー』、2017年のセカンド・アルバム『22.02.85』に次ぐサード・アルバム『ザ・キリング・オブ・ユジーン・ピープス』。

今作はジャッロ映画や70年代の犯罪映画、フランスのニュー・ウェイヴ・シネマなどにインスパイアされて書かれた作品で、ジャケット写真も映画のポスター風に仕上がっている。この想像上の映画音楽では、ダウンビートなアンチ・バラード、シネマティックなインスト、サイケデリック・フォークなど、バスティンらしい多彩なサウンドが繰り広げられている。映画音楽、サントラ、そして付随音楽の3部構成となっており、夢心地な中、定期的にナレーターがリスナーに向けて切望や後悔といった楽曲についてのガイダンスを述べている。

まず第一にギタリストであるバスティンだが、その他にもトランペット、ベース、ピアノ、フルートなど、他数々の楽器を演奏する。加えて歌も上手い。まさにマルチ・インストゥルメンタリストである彼らしい、いくつもの要素が散りばめられた楽曲群で構成された今回のアルバムは、聴く者を想像の映画に連れ出し、魅了すること間違いないだろう。

credits

released October 9, 2020

Story by S. Jones
Narration Kenneth Viota
Produced by S. Jones
Mixed by Goetz Botzenhardt / S. Jones
Mastered by Caspar Sutton-Jones / Darrel Sheinman

All songs written/arranged/performed/recorded by S. Jones
All instruments played by S. Jones

Except:

2. Lyrics written by Will Morrison
7. Vocals written and performed by Claudia Kane
8. Additional vocals performed by Natalia Rowley
10. Vocals written and performed by Paul Adey
16. Vocals performed by Camille Limoges, lyrics by Will Morrison
18. Violins performed by Alex Judd

Front cover art by Will Morrison
Back cover photo by Natalia Rowley

Published by Metropolis Songs

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Bastien Keb Royal Leamington Spa, UK

Psychedelic, soulful, eerie, experimental, ambient and avant garde - experimental hip hop and soul music, all played live using battered/borrowed instruments. With a backdrop of VHS home movies samples, kitchen sink percussion, fuzzy spoken word and wild brass. ... more

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