from the EP Signals, Calls & Marches, Ace of Hearts Records, 1981
Making post-hardcore music before the hardcore scene had yet reached its apex, and matching that with an exceptional verbosity, almost prosaic in nature (which was rare at that time), the Boston crew Mission of Burma justly deserve all the critical praise and name-dropping they have received over the years---quite simply, they fucking rock! This particular tale of disillusionment & the loss of innocence, both written and sung by bass player Clint Conley, speaks to an intellectual rite of passage for many free-thinking individuals, that moment in life when the bottom dropped out and you realized all that flowery bullshit you’d been fed by your school & family & television was about as useful and accurate as Dick Cheney on a hunting trip (DUCK)! You can’t fuck with Conley’s reflective steez, “…once I had my heroes, once I had my dreams, but all of that is changed now, they've turned things inside out, the truth is not so comfortable, no...and mother taught us patience, the virtues of restraint, and father taught us boundaries, beyond which we must go, to find the secrets promised us, yeah…tonight the sky is empty, but that is nothing new, its dead eyes look upon us, and they tell me, we're nothing, but slaves…but sla-aves…” I have no idea if this was autobiographical in nature or about someone else, but it sure as hell comes across as one of the most valid and sincere songs of the era, hitting the nail on the head when he admits, “…the spirit fights to find its way…”
from the EP Signals, Calls & Marches, Ace of Hearts Records, 1981
