Rapid Fire Process
Born in the winter of 2002, Rapid Fire Process quickly became a euphemism for 4 musicians with no patience for melody, music theory or docile orchestration. However, Rapid Fire Process is a technical and more often then not, random hard-core band from the suburbs of Vancouver WA. Mixing technical riffs, plenty of blast beats, pure noise and an ounce of sludge, Rapid Fire Process seeks to do nothing more then create intense and sporadic chaos. Inspired by such ingenious bands as Converge, Dillenger Escape Plan, Spitfire and Botch, the band draws from their influences while still interjecting their own sense of style. The band has no political or social agenda except to maintain a sensory overload of extreme emotions, personal struggles and the never ending quest to release. Rapid Fire Process in a sense promotes the idea that we are all a little screwed up in the head and we need to let it out preferably in a semi-controlled setting. Don't lie to yourself, you know you are. Rapid Fire Process is constructed of these musically border line schizophrenic gentlemen: Matt Hagan: Vocals Jake Newport: Guitar Matt Thorton: Bass Jake Simonson: Drums Lyrics: My Name is Jack Something Dear blindman, this ones for me. Take heed to this wisdom, oh wise one you've made deamons Pregnacy of a madman, two months of labor A homicide by the victim. Cut throat, abort, stay away form me Locked in the basment, count your teeth or whisper a lullby. Don't call out to sanity, this is all to necessary Dear blindman, you'll get there soon enough. Sunshine I feel sick Roses Waste my precious time you want to know what makes me tick Flap my tongue, it's so worthless Bleed my wrist, it's so wortless Word between us are no longer butterflys. They are rusty needles piercing my everything. Still my heart skips a beat. I'm a master of disguise, these actions run my life. I know your secrets. How Easy it is to Get Lost on the Way Home time heals nothing, it only seals your pain. Or so it seems at this moment i'm convienced of such a falicy. Black and white have no boundries, longing for the light of day. I'm prone to only watch the sun set and bury my wretched face, wanting to fill this mouth with dirt. Humanity at it's finest, seeks fufillment in itself. Falling face first hurts the most when no one catches you. Who can soften these deadly blows? eyes will wander, simplicity within reach. Take me home. Phone Calls in the Middle of a Therapy Session Wake up in a sate of euphoria Let's play the waiting game every night. I'll be numb in the morning, from it's visit in my sleep. Pry my eyes open, one at a time. Another One? Another Deamon? Another Metaphor? These hands have but ten fingers. Nevermind that, i stopped counting long ago. Unique tormenter, taking advantage behind eyelids. Perfect messenger, screaming my name. What is your purpose? Who is your master? In who's name do you move? Answer me. Enlightenment or die. The Pillars, They Sings The floor in the this cramped space, it molding to my skin. The dirty mirror reflects the author to the only book. He is an arrogant man, he see all and he knows all, he digs the footholes in advance. Lie down and make as much noise as possible. Get comfortable, pay no attention to your bloody stumps, they will send us on our way. Prophet, nothing is real, it either is or it isn't. Prophet. I've Heard about the Decay of Civilization so I've decided to become an Active Participant The village it burnt down today, seperated from it with such uncomfortable distance. Thier face dead until 4 am. A watchman and his foolish guilt. He's never broken a bone in his body. How did we get hear? Who am I? Who are you? Quickly, break all the mirrors and turn your portraits face down. It would be bliss, to play the fool. Oh sweet ignorance drown out this life sentence. Unfortunately we all work the same street corner. The concrete looks heavy, it is. Sometimes I Wish My Computer Would Burn The switch is up. The perfect mixture of hot flashes and kerosene. This cavern is lit up in a fraction of a second. Numbness, is highlighted, no longer fragmented. Hold still while the liar injects his herion. So bold as to use old needles, modernizing the past. To know ture aesthetics, is to feel your skin finally grow warm. It's like scalling the edges and dualing suicide. The switch is up. Now my name is written in red, forever tainting the grey. Red, tainting grey. That's About as Deep as a Mud Puddle in August I've been asleep for the past year. Was i really adrift at sea for that long? Apparently the river changes it's current. Blasphemous to theory or at least the apparition of mockery. Where does this strangers take his place? Start, purpose, end point. Purpose, it has smell, it has texture, it satisfies. Smoke, has a tendency to linger and clench on to so many things. Tastless motion mixed with akward conversation. Tongue is swollen bear is throbbing from the constant images. Little one, bite down hard and you'll taste blood. I plan on waking up.