Hunk

by Elephant Rifle

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    LPs will include a download and insert. The record's cover is some artsy-fartsy stuff about the duality of man or some shit. Have fun dissecting that with your roommates. Limited to 500 copies.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Hunk via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 7 days

      $18 USD or more 

     

  • Cassette + Digital Album

    A cassette version of Hunk on baby's tummy pink released by No List Records. Limited to 200 copies.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Hunk via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 7 days
    edition of 200 

      $9 USD or more 

     

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $5 USD  or more

     

  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 10 Elephant Rifle releases available on Bandcamp and save 30%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Teach You to Dance - A Decade Anthology, Pressing the Flesh [Live] - Clint's Picks vol. 1, Hunk, Ivory, I Can't Believe You're Still Alive, Alphabet Cult/Elephant Rifle split 7", Dirty Pillows Mixtape, Party Child, and 2 more. , and , .

    Purchasable with gift card

      $14.70 USD or more (30% OFF)

     

  • TEST PRESS
    Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    For you collector types, we've got two test presses of Hunk available on black vinyl with custom artwork and John Hancocks from the band members. Supplies are limited. Call now. Key lime La Croix added for scale.

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

    Sold Out

1.
Don’t let them pacify. Break the wall! Terrify! Pretty girls, handsome guys Fuck right through borderlines.
2.
Fuck My Name 02:35
You could have been anyone. You just happened to be there. Bullshit, call it. Rich man, so suave. Don’t stop winning— Cocaine habit. This is the last you’ll see Of the richest rich guy. Look at me flash my watch. Gonna get rich, drink Scotch. Gonna buy a new boat. Gonna build castle moats. Look at my trophy wife— Don’t you just hate your life? Better watch, better look. Better job, better run. You could have been anyone. You just happened to be there. Bullshit, call it. Strong man, big hunk. Oil, please, lover. Don’t sweat, too tough. This is the last you’ll see Of the biggest big guy. Look at me flex my wrist. Gonna get big and twist. Gonna get on the stage. Gonna be all the rage. Show me your empty smile. I’ve got bulk and style. Better pose, better flex. Better move, better dance. Better watch, better look. Curly hair, better locks. Bigger man, better tan. Killer bod, better look. Better watch, better look. Better move, better run.
3.
Fascists in the streets Wave those hateful flags— Smash them in the teeth. Spewing bitter fears, Pride in better ghosts, Hearts of sour tears. South won’t rise again. The most sacred lot Sides for now with sin. Only break one law— One law at a time— Like a fascist’s jaw. Hateful, jealous men Hide behind the badge— Fragile, flinching hens Chant it to the cops, Yell it through the streets, Pull out all the stops: “Do not build the wall. Do not raid the homes. Don’t make children crawl In the dirty gutters, Begging for the lives Of their blessed mothers.” “Move it along, son. Nothing to see here. Move it along, son. Nothing to see. I’ve got a new badge Made of your old skulls. This is my big gun— Nothing to see.” With dumb little jokes, Cops will always mock Different kinds of folks. Guns are always wrong— Even you know what. Singers, know your songs. Everyone can speak. We all have that right— Monsters, mobs and meek. Only break one law— One law at a time— Like a fascist’s jaw. Hateful, jealous men Hide behind the badge— Fragile, flinching hens. Chant it to the cops, Yell it through the streets, Pull out all the stops: “Do not build the wall. Do not raid the homes. Don’t make children crawl In the dirty gutters, Begging for the lives Of their blessed mothers.”
4.
Current Wars 01:56
Everything that sparkles, shines or plugs into the wall— It seems like magic, but it’s probably just electrical. Currents come direct, but better through alternation, But Edison bullied science with public relations. Thomas Edison murdered Topsy Elephant. Edison fried Topsy when he starred in the first film He claimed AC was dangerous, and he made a chair that kills. Thomas Edison murdered Topsy Elephant. Boredom is a right murdered by electric light. Westinghouse and Tesla wanted power inexhaustible— That means the sun, but robber barons still tell you, “clean coal.” If it makes them a dollar, they’ll pretend they’re ignorant, Sell power with lies, just like Edison and the elephant. Thomas Edison murdered Topsy Elephant. Boredom is a right murdered by electric light.
5.
Big Milk 03:08
Like you when you’re dry. Like you when you’re wet. I like it when your body’s Sticky with my sweat. Stick it deep inside, Sticky with your spit, Stings like a bee cup All over your lips. I'm all yours. I'm your suckling pig. I want to nurse, Big Milk. I wanna touch your leg, And crawl up your stairs, And show me your room— Good Norwegian wood. We’ll play bride and groom. You sure treat me well, Then, we drink and eat— Coffee in the morning, Make it nice and sweet. Be dainty about it. Nibble on the edge— Sweet nothings, dirty somethings— Careful with your legs. Careful when you let it Trickle from its pack. Mind your sugar now, honey, Can’t take sweetness back. It cuts through bitter Like milk in a dream. I want to see you naked. I want to see you cream. Hey Big Milk, you’re hot. Hey Big Milk, you’re walking hot. Love you when you’re dry. Love you when you’re wet. I love it when my body’s Sticky with your sweat. Walk out in the world. The world has a laugh, “I’d tell you not to blow it, But you already have.” No modern lover would Ever kiss and tell, But there ain’t no way That this will end well. Have my milk with sugar. Have my milk again. Drink my milk, and steam my milk, And where there's love, there’s pain. Hey Big Milk, you’re hot. Hey Big Milk, you’re walking hot. Hey Big Milk, you’re hot. Hey Big Milk, you curdle hot. Lick you where you’re dry. Lick you where you’re wet. I love it when your body’s Sticky with my spit. Lock your lips around Whatever you can find. I’m coming unhinged. I’m losing my mind. A cart with no horse, A horse with no carriage, It should come as no surprise: I’m bad at marriage. I'm the scorpion. She’s the river frog. My nature is to sting— We’ll drown in bog Like you when you’re dry. Love it when you’re wet. In all our fluids: Blood, milk and sweat I like my milk steamed. I like my milk raw. I want to see you naked. I want to see you crawl.
6.
Best saddle up. Best saddle up and ride. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to run and hide. Pretty one, We’ll see how that’ll last. You’ve got no future. You’re living in the past. All hat and no horse. All chorus and no verse.
7.
Sorority Row 03:13
You tell me you’re not happy with what you’ve got back home. He seems like such a nice guy—guess that’s the way it goes. You’ve got some restless needs I’m happy to fulfill. The sight of your naked knees gives me a little thrill. You want to play doctor, I’ll show you where it hurts. You want a taste of blood, I’ll open up my shirt. I want to see your body. I love your armpits’ smell. Every time I’m at your door, you look so scared and pale. What you need’s a slasher who always wears a mask— Someone with a hunger to chase you down at last. Show me where your scars are. Let me lick your wounds. Want you here. I want you now. I want you in my room. You’ve been on the run from fascists and the past. I may be a killer, but, darlin’, we’ll have a blast. What you need’s a slasher who always wears a mask— Someone with a hunger to chase you down at last. Not the man you lie to—the man you lie with. If I can be your devil, you can be my witch. You want to play doctor, I’ll show you where it hurts. You want a taste of blood, I’ll open up my shirt. Who knows consequences? Who even really cares? A horror movie slasher with feelings to share— Not an ideal model, a man proud of sins. Won’t someone please think of the damned children? What you need’s a slasher who always wears a mask— Someone with a hunger to chase you down at last. Show me where your scars are. Let me lick your wounds. Want you here. I want you now. I want you in my room. Boring movie. Bloody lover.
8.
Big city, nowhere to park. Big city, just drive around. Big city, it’s after dark. Big city, let’s rip it up. Get in the car. Drive it away. Drive it all night. Drive it all day. Drive past the cops— Give ’em a wave. No need to stop— It’s doughnuts they crave Don’t take no right turns—always turn left. Behind the wheel, I always feel stressed.
9.
Frat Poison 02:29
Pour another drink in your red cup. Nothing’s gonna start til you drink it all up. Why you babysitting two or three shots? Gonna show you how to turn it up a notch. Rally ’round the keg, pump it til it foams, Add a little something to make your guts groan. We’ve got inside jokes and a secret shake. Things are gonna get weird at the clambake. Pour another drink down. Pour another drink down. I'm the chapter captain. Call me Mr. Jones. Those little tri-Delts about to get dosed. Some folks like water. Some folks like wine. I like the taste of straight strychnine. Crack a lot of jokes, feeling pretty great. Careful not to turn into the thing that you hate. Pour another drink down. Pour another drink down. Omega Epsilon Rho. We’re going out in your town, Drinking whiskey on down. Going out like Jonestown— Lost and then found.
10.
“Love yourself— No better way To start the day. Then hit the showers. Walk the halls— You look so cute, Plaid skirt and boots. Then hit the showers. After school, You’ll come see me. We’ll have some fun. Then hit the showers. Locker talk With good ol’ coach And busy hands. Then hit the showers.” “Nothing of your favors! You’re a bastard, old man coach. You aren’t a pretty one, an ugly one, or something in between. You are the fattest albatross. You are a burden in the way. No gentleman of safety, so I’ll rip you with my powers in a telepathic blast. You are a bastard, old man coach! You are a bloated, chunky walrus and a liar all the time! You’re a sweaty, fat, face-sucker sucking like a little leech! You aren’t a pretty one!”
11.
Broomrider 04:12
Broom, your splinters on my thighs. Broom, a pleasure to ride. Broom, I’ll skin us a rabbit. Broom, every night’s our sabbath. Broom, we’ll fly in the night’s sky. Broom, tonight I’m your bride. Broom, the devil may follow— Broom, we’ll choose where to go. Broom, they’re ready to burn us. Broom, we’re ready to curse. Throw me deep in the water— You’ll see that I just won’t drown. Burn me high at the stake— There’ll be no ash on the ground. Throw me deep in the river— You’ll see that I just won’t drown. Burn me high at the stake. Kids, you’ll come run through the forest. Kids, come to gingerbread house. Kids, you’ll come run through the forest. Kids, you’ll come, gingerbread house.
12.
Travel through space and time— Nothing else beats the doldrums. Give up the price of fame. Don’t leave the novels undone. Pressing the flesh for fun. Nothing to say, but there’s one. Pulling the false alarm— Spit in the face of time. There’s a clock, Always on— Turn it off. Ticking the day away, There is no cure for the age. Blocking the sun for all, Time will then turn them all gray. Curse them for all their lives. They’ve got a book that tells all. Fixing the clocks of steam, Your skin is now covered in hives. Spit in the face of time. Cry in the face of the light. Pulling the false alarm, Wronging what was called right. Bury your crying brain, Looking for easy answers. Pushing the past along— How can you support that? Ticking the day away, There is no cure for the age. Blocking the sun for all, Time will then turn them all gray. Separate wheat from chaff Won’t even help that much. You think you’re so special? Don’t even make me laugh. Forgot what you think you know. Nothing to see but the bone. Pulling your face aside, Nothing to see but the bone.

about

I'm Bad at Driving video:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMwElkxr5k4

Reno’s Elephant Rifle aren’t three songs into their 2018 album, Hunk, before they’re advocating punching nazis, so yeah, I’m down. Rooted in punk, but thick in tone and groove, the four-piece keep both a political edge and a hellraising post-hardcore aspect to the 12-tracker, but there’s room among cuts like “Fuck My Name” and “Mass Strangling” and “Current Wars” and opener “Hunk’s America” with the drunkard’s-poetics lyricism of “Frat Poison,” “Big Milk” and “I’m Bad at Driving,” all of which offer no shortage of instrumental shenanigans to coincide. Intensity varies but tension is largely universal, and left, right or center, everyone seems to wind up taking a hit by the time the album is done. “Frat Poison” and “Sorority Row” would seem to cover both bases, for example, and likewise, the jangly West Coast noise rock of “Broomrider” complements the crashing and percussive drive of “Cowboy Poetry” earlier. They push, they pummel, and indeed, the punch, but the frenetic energy they bring to bear isn’t without consideration behind it — there are adults in the room.

Fair enough. The band — Brad Bynum, Mike Mayhall, Clint Neuerburg and Mike Young — tracked with Tim Green (The Fucking Champs) — and Hunk carries the raw clarity of his work, but personality abounds on the band’s part, to put it mildly, and though by the time they engage Dr. Seuss on “Hit the Showers,” the onslaught of commentary seems to be somewhat less pointed than it was at the outset, there’s little arguing with the fact that the American age of media saturation, information saturation, and a willfully blurred line between truth and fiction accommodates all of the above and still has space in its infinite data servers for a song like “I’m Bad at Driving,” which, in terms of subject matter, is pretty much what the title would have you believe. There’s a video for the track premiering below — that’s why we’re here; keep up — and in addition to highlighting the song itself, it’s a good look at the persona driving the band throughout Hunk. Chicanery abounds. I hope their next album has a song about incels, because fuck that shit too.
-The Obelisk

credits

released May 4, 2018

Hunk was recorded by Tim Green
at Louder Studios,
November 2017.
Production assists from
Tim Blake and Mike Modene.
Photography by Rich Moore.
Art direction by Margot Choltco
and Clint.

All songs by Elephant Rifle:
Brad Bynum
Mike Mayhall
Clint Neuerburg
Mike Young

Big Milk and Frat Poison written with Ty Williams.

Thank You.

Humaniterrorist 032

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Elephant Rifle Reno, Nevada

Hardcore band from Nevada. Avid John Carpenter fans.

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