Hidden Strings

by Chill Bump

supported by
Pierre Michel Castet Claisse
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Pierre Michel Castet Claisse Un morceau qui incite à la révolution dans un album qui ne perd rien pour attendre. Mes bumps chillent sans tergiverser. Favorite track: Life has Value.
Olivier Bisaillon-Lemay
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Olivier Bisaillon-Lemay An other good album by Chill Bump. I greatly recommend it to everybody. Favorite track: Melancholy.
GIRLSWITHTΛILS The overall theme this album carries is really powerful. The lyrics just have so much obvious heart in them, and they're delivered so passionately. Amazing album. Favorite track: Melancholy.
Hannah Coates
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Hannah Coates Clever French Hip-Hop II (my favourite album of these three) Favorite track: Life has Value.
Unoriginal Name
Unoriginal Name thumbnail
Unoriginal Name Like Back To The Grain this is an example of the best of hip-hop/rap. There's nothing else to say. It shames mainstream hip-hop/rap by actually using the English language. Favorite track: Five Minute Breather.
Constantly Searching For...
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Constantly Searching For... Can't say enough for the amount of talent these two possess. This is the best part of Bandcamp....finding REAL artists with UNREAL skills. Favorite track: Melancholy.
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Bankal (Beats) + Miscellaneous (Voice)
EP #3 : Hidden Strings
Enjoy ! Lots more to come...


released June 19, 2012

All songs produced, written and recorded
by Chill Bump at "The Eighth Lab" in Tours
Illustration by Rebecca Fezard



all rights reserved


Chill Bump Tours, France


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Track Name: Life has Value
« I don’t have to tell you things are bad.
Everybody knows things are bad.
The dollar buys a nickel’s worth.
Banks are going bust,
shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter.
We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat,
and we sit, watching our TVs
while some local newscaster tells us
that today we had fifteen homicides
and sixty-three violent crimes,
as if that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
We know things are bad…
Worse than bad… They’re crazy !
It’s like everything everywhere is going crazy,
so we don’t go out any more.
We sit in our house and
slowly the world we’re living in is getting smaller
and all we say is :
Please at least leave us alone in our living room.
Let me have my toaster and my TV and my steel-belted radials
and I won’t say anything.
Just leave us alone…
Well I’m not going to leave you alone…
I want you to get MAD ! »

Hypnotised by a spreading viral sydrome,
sitting silent in a cyber prison, eyes got spinning spirals in’em.
We're spending our lives pretending, idealising idols singing.
Worthless simple minded jerks, jerking off at the sight of women…
Someone’s behind it, making the most of it,
raping your soul sonny, they’ve made you a slow puppet.
Enslaved the globe with paper, causing commun, sick behaviour.
They divide ya, make ya fight, constantly quarrel with your Neighbor.
You make me wanna wake ya, shout, shake ya out your bed,
slap ya back to reality, pound ya, break your drousy head.
Whether black, brown, white, yellow or blue, whether you Jew,
Christian, Muslim, Man or Woman, Macho, Feminist too.
Forget your hatred and beefs, gay or straight relate evenly,
we can blatantly see we’re ALL getting raped equally.
People should be eager to put their forces together !
The more the better ! Forget your pain, y’all important and clever !
(Get mad) Listen bredren, you’re not a little bread crumb.
Lift your head son, cause you’re a fucking living legend !
(Get mad) You’re not a zombie hun, don’t nod when they numb ya,
you’re not a statistic, nah, not an anonymous number…
(Get mad) You are knowledge, wonder, mind, body and soul.
Flip Big Brother the bird, ‘cause he’s not in control, nope !
(Get mad) Strike the power, time to be sour,
pile up the cowards’ cadavres after dragging ’em out they ivory tower.
Blaow !

«  I don’t want you to protest,
I don’t want you to riot,
I don’t want you to write to your congressman because I wouldn’t know what to tell you to write.
I don’t know what to do about the depression and
the inflation and the crime in the Streets.
All I know is that first, you’ve got to get mad.
You’ve got to say :
I’m a Human being God damn it !

…Get Mad…
Track Name: Melancholy
Sonny was brought up to believe money is God.
His parents pressured him into studying hard.
When he finished law school, he got a lovely lil’ job
with hopes of climbing the ladder to be the one that’s in charge.
Try to double his salary, be a stunning rich star,
have a wonderful family, cop a couple big cars.
He found a honey, then happily made her his spouse.
They got a common account, started to pay for this house.
Endebted for life… Baking cakes for Neighbors,
waving at the newspaper kid, making fake faces.
He began to hate it… and felt an emptiness swarm in,
nauseated by the routine-hell he was caught in.
Fed up with all his endless chores and infinite bordum,
he started vomiting black bile every morning.
He used to be merry, he used to fly High,
but all it took was one glimpse of the truth and bye bye.

Melancholy… Melancholy…
Affected every bone in his body.

Sonny did some research… was stunned by what he saw,
’bout how a small, corrupted group conducted war.
Fucked us all over, perched above the law.
So what’s the purpose in working in justice for ?
Reality was profit and lies mangled,
Cocky governments conquering just like vandals.
Big brother mocking us, watching from sly angles,
Illuminati plotting on top of they triangle.
(Paranoïa…) began to beat the boy up,
‘til the point he no longer wanted to be a loyer.
(Annoying his spouse…) he’d scorn humanity,
warning family, they thought that he’d lost his sanity.
(Scared to go out…) he lost his salary automatically.
This new reality tossed him off his balance beam.
(Fuck having kids…) Mankind was his nightmare !
His wife packed her shit and left him right there !

(Melancholy… Melancholy…
Affected every bone in my body)

Staring at the wall of a mental asylum.
A menace to society is meant to be silent.
‘Cause nobody wanna hear a rebel with ideas
diss the system and the men that’s behind it.
I've been around town, screaming out loud,
but people are nothing but sheep or foul cows
that refuse the truth, they sleep and bow down.
Crowd’s out my reach… I’ma keep it down now.
‘Cause it’s wothless, society's too crazy.
Fuck your life, I don’t mind if you hate me !
I don’t wanna fight, or find a new lady :
Fuck my wife, her new guy and new baby !
Save yourself, you’re chained and you’re stuck,
your ego’s big, your cranium’s fucked.
I can’t wait for mother nature to snap,
hurricanes to attack, volcanos errupt…
A huge Tsunami to drown us all,
‘cause our species is bound to fall.
Mankind stands proud and tall,
but he’ll soon see he’s fragile and small.
When a human dies ? I’m fucking happy !
Suicide ? I’m fucking happy !
When you will die, I’ll chuckle gladly,
And I hope that you suffer badly !

Track Name: Modern Man Intermission
"Cocked, locked and ready to rock...
(You can't shut me up)
Rough, tough and hard to bluff...
(You can't dumb me down)
I've got no need for coke and speed...
(You can't shut me up)
I've got no urge to binge and purge...
(You can't dumb me down)

I interface with my database
and my database is in cyber space
I wear power ties, I tell power lies,
I take power naps, I run victory laps.
I read junk mail, I eat junk food,
I buy junk bonds, I watch trash sports.
And I'm tireless and I'm wireless,
I'm an alpha male on beta-blockers.
Interactive, I'm hyperactive,
from time to time I'm radioactive.
I take it slow, I go with the flow,
I ride with the tide, I've got glide in my stride.
I don't snooze, so I don't lose,
I keep the pedal to the metal
and the rubber on the road
I've been pre-washed, pre-cooked,
pre-heated, pre-screened,
pre-approved, pre-packaged,
post-dated, freeze-dried.
Been pre-washed, pre-cooked,
pre-heated, pre-screened,
pre-approved, pre-packaged,
post-dated, freeze-dried.


I'm hanging in, there ain't no doubt
I'm hanging tough, over and out..."
Track Name: Devil in a Suit
Woken up early by one of the room cleaners,
with a used, wrinkled rubber dangling from his loose penis.
In a sweaty-shirt, his blurry eyes are red,
his head is hurting, there's a hooker still inside the bed...
Mind's blank. He can't count the alcohol he drank,
he hands a huge stack of dollars to the horrid skank.
She puts on her pants, gets sent on her way,
he snorts a line of powder just to start the day,
takes a shower, shaves off the grey, washes his face,
hops into a new suit : What a disgrace !
Puts on his flashy watch worth more than forty grand,
and his twenty four carrat wedding-ring on his hand.
He calls his honey, playing honest man, telling stories
"Work is killing me. Kiss the kiddies for me."
Taxi takes him to work, drops him off on time,
he walks into parliament, feeling God damn fine !
Yeah !

Hand-shaking, making friends
and betraying, straight pretending,
acting fake and snake resembling,
apple-tasting, satan's in him.
Masterbating in the mirror,
smurking and he's laughing at you...
'Cause he's a devil in a suit.

Smiling like a sleasy jerk, he's tired but seems alert.
Why sleep at night if you've got time to sleep at work?
He pretends to listen close of course,
hopes that all the cameras don't catch him dozing off.
He votes for most the laws eyes closed, they don't concern him,
but knows where to vote, for certain, if it fucks with the dough he's earnin' !
His buddies, discretely discuss their secret businesses and exchange disgusting pictures of their recent mistresses.
His wickedness consists of robbing rich skanks,
stacking enormous amounts in all the accounts of his swiss banks.
His wife gives him a kiss, "Thanks hon' you're great !"
He bought her a boat with the paper stolen from the state.
His kids adore him, he's got eight adolescents,
they all horse-ride and all take piano lessons.
His mansion is lovely and it is comfy !
He bought it with the guns sold in african countries. Fuck yeah !

Hand-shaking, making friends
and betraying, straight pretending,
acting fake and snake resembling,
apple-tasting, satan's in him.
Masterbating in the mirror,
smurking and he's laughing at you...
'Cause he's a devil in a suit.

Lights, camera, action, you're on.
The bastard's on point with his grammar, his posh accent is strong.
Blush painted on his cheeks, white teeth are showing.
Blah blah blah blah, the guy keeps on going.
Knowing his long rethorical speech is some easy bull,
tell you what you wanna hear, make it believable...
People don't understand jack shit nowadays,
and if they do, he don't give a fuck anyways
'cause lying is a business, he mastering the art.
His plans are machiavelic and he's really smart.
His tactics are sharp, damn the man's a witty shark
that got the whole mother fucking globe trapped up in the dark !
He's fooled everyone everywhere he's ever went.
This kind of witty men have got the balls to become president.
One day, he will be, for real B, you'll see.
You'll probably vote for him, but he won't fool me.

"Nobody seems to notice, nobody seems to care.
The table is tilted folks, the game is rigged..."
Track Name: Five Minute Breather
Man I got to…

Shit I need to…

Man I got to, shit I need to…
Find me a Five Minute Breather.

Let me inhale, let me exhale,
start off this day with a fresh smell…

The city is…
synonym of pressure, it’s blocking my breath,
every office is occupied ; no oxygen left.
Every odd second’s a rush, we won’t stop before death.
Better never trust a soul, and keep watching your steps.
You a robot, a fools, and they mold ya since school,
You gotta grow up, be useful, gotta know what to do.
gotta show off be cool, gotta go off, be cruel,
Gotta resemble the right clone, if it takes throwing up food.
Paper’s our pimp, we get paid for our painful work,
pay your bill, passive slut, pile up your paperwork !
Peek over the fence, better pick up on the latest norm,
but the grass always grows greener on your neighbors’ lawn.
Go get a new gadget ’cause life’s improving,
in a few months it’ll die and you’ll buy a new one.
Virtual wall’s moving, son, keep up to date,
can ‘t put your feet up, time don’t freeze up and wait.
Can’t ease up, gotta work hard, gotta feast off your pay,
but you ain’t got time to eat all the meat on your plate.
Information ping pongs, TV on all day,
and the radios dictate what to be, what to say.
Gotta get away…

Man I got to…

Motly modern day man, always gotta make grands.
God, he can’t stand when he gotta wait, he hates moderation.
He can’t tolerate patience, Babylon is king,
emptiness hides behind every merry song you sing,
Forever heading on blind-folded, you never want to think.
never want to pause on this very long marathon you sprint.
Ain’t no fair accomplishment, every kids gotta fight,
Mother gotta teach you to crush others so you can get what you like.
Governments feed minds with sick thoughts and lies,
You’ve gotta get up that ladder or you’ll get squashed like flies.
You all spend your lives thinkin’ about shit y’all can buy;
I wish my species would just piss off and die !
Society’s nevrotic and won’t let me be,
I’ve tried swimming up that current, screaming « set me free ! »
But nobody wanna listen, they lecture me,
so I’ll take a random direction and run hecticly…
God I’m sick, Gotta get away, mother nature’s my shrink,
gotta punch the air, scream my rage, say what I think.
I’m no better than you fools, but I follow no leader,
I’m a fly in need of a 5 minute breather…

Man I got to, shit I need to…
Find me a Five Minute Breather.

Let me inhale, let me exhale,
start off this day with a fresh smell…

(Oh, I’ma just follow this road,
I’ma float where the wind blow
Not bothered on where I’ma go,
Go with that flow) x4