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1610 00:25
"You are approaching the Lowell Connector exit to Lowell National Historical Park, home of the first successfully planned American industrial city. It was here in the early 1800's that this country decided to become not only a nation of agriculture, but a nation with an industrial base. Using the waterfalls along the Merrimack River for power, the labor of Yankee mill girls, and later immigrants from around the world, this country would be changed forever."
What is left to breathe? What is left to eat? What is left to drink? When the progress we create means nothing. What will you do when you realize you’re not going to make it? What will you do when you realize you’re not going to make it out of this? Tell me! Please, tell me! What is left to breathe? What is left to eat? What is left to drink? When the future we create means nothing.
And you still refuse to see the facts. You think you know me better than I know myself. The world you see is far different than mine. So why you go as if you can relate to me? You were never like me. You are not like me. You will never be like me. You will never understand me. Why you're pretending that you care about me? When was the last time that you came around here? When was the last time you did something for me? Why when you last saw me you crossed the street? Now you're afraid of me, 'cause I can see right through you. We stand on different ground, so now I'm a threat in your book. Now that you know this about me, you will try to strike me down. Use your friends in the TV screen, and call me a homegrown terrorist. You're the real terrorist. You’re the real terrorist. You’re the real terrorist.
Condicionados a ignorar, a tomar antes de dar. La falsedad de una libertad cuya realidad es que somos fichas en un juego de azar. Y seguimos mirando todo a ciegas. Consentimiento sin consentimiento. Vivimos con la única opción de terminar en el matadero.
Y pasan los años y seguimos en lo mismo. Los amos del poder siguen con puños de hierro. Se siguen adueñando de nuestro mundo mientras nuestras vidas seguimos botando. Vivimos para trabajar mientras creemos que vivimos en libertad. Y mientras sigamos en competencia miraremos de largo a nuestros vecinos que viven en carencia y esa es la base que usamos para juzgar su moral. Somos todos hipócritas y la ironía es que también somos las víctimas. Y el rebaño sigue ciegamente el pastor que sigue enriqueciéndose y éste sigue sembrando el odio porque se cree un mensajero de Dios. Y el Papa sentado en un trono de oro financiado por genocidio y sangre.
Spend your time reciting words from books long meaningless. Your naïve self pretending that mere words will solve the problems of the “condemned" while ironically their Hell is kept in place, is kept in place, is kept in place by those deemed redeemers. They don't listen, they don't care, when the quickest path to heaven comes from needles in their veins. No one listens, no one cares. Maybe if you listened to their plight you will come to realize that dead gods are not forthcoming. But you'd be the one doomed to “Hell" for your disdain. Repent! Repent! 'Cause you're the one that's going to burn. You don't listen. You don't care. Well the only thing you care is your image in front of a herd that does not listen, 'cause it does not care. Words alone won't, words alone won’t, words alone won’t, words alone won’t lift the weight of every cross. GOD IS DEAD.
Sol en la espalda quemándome el alma. ¡Que ésta travesía concluya ya! Lo único que busco es vivir con dignidad, para tener así solo una oportunidad. Nubes negras. Una lluvia de bombas. Mi mundo es ahora polvo y sangre. Me voy por tener y no por querer. Yo solo quiero vivir. El camino es largo, y el futuro incierto. El camino es largo, y el futuro incierto. Yo solo quiero vivir.
You cannot destroy me. I am the impervious one. And I can only look back. I feel no sympathy for someone like you Who attempted to dismantle me, and trust me, I hold no regret to see that your failed attempts to add me to your list of conquered souls has drained you of your last remaining light.
Contemporary visions of the past, I guess Orwell was right. This new feudal age where the lord is the banker, the new Caudillos wear suits and ties, owning everything you believe you do, sanctioned by the Holy Order. Almost a utopia dreamt by Ayn Rand. Spending your life owing those that own you. Protected by the laws bought with the fruit of your labor. Sending you to the killing fields, watching from afar with a cocktail in hand. "Thank you for your servitude" the master says, as your life becomes wretched.
As we imprudently become subjects to our advancement, the natural order disregarded, consumption becomes the divine. Trudging along on a path of destruction. When we are gone all will go in ruination. Who will inherit this world devastated? Decimating the current foundations to become humane again, and kindly accept our consummation to atone for our transgressions. Our current roads lead to annihilation. Remember this world is not only ours. We’re just but a moment in time of the never-ending evolutionary line.
The bullies claiming to be the victims of their own doing, and the victims framed as perpetrators. A world where truth is seen as a fabrication. A world where antonyms are synonyms when the word “right” means “wrong,” and being wrong, and being wrong, can get you into higher places. When bringing destruction is the order of the day, as long as profits are made along the way. A world where foolishness reigns supreme and the foundations of fairness crumble on our feet. And we see it. And we do nothing. In the new reality. Justice is lawlessness.
Vamos marchando por sendas oscuras, siniestros ojos nos acosan. ¿Cómo llegamos hasta aquí? ¿Habremos sido tan necios? Arrivamos ciegamente hasta nuestro fin. Hemos cometido un suicidio masivo. Fuimos advertidos y ya no hay vuelta atrás. ¡Ya no hay vuelta atrás!
Another day, another massacre, “wrong location” now I’m supposed to cry. I try the best I can, but even when sadness fills my heart, I find it hard, hard to relate, to fucking shed a tear. Why am I not surprised when sadness and rage fill my heart? And now the hypocrites fill the TV screens. We have caused all this suffering. I’m not more important because of where I live. When I realized we are the system we want to break, I have tried to write this a million times, but it’s hard when you’re walking with open eyes in the City of the Blind. And now the hypocrites fill the TV screens. We have caused all this suffering. Walking with open eyes in the City of the Blind.
Nos da miedo confrontar la realidad. Esa fuerte sensación cuando el corazón se detiene porque sabe lo que viene. No nos podemos enfrentar a esa verdad y decidimos arrodillarnos y convertirnos en esclavos de nuestros propios miedos. Negamos nuestra objetividad mientras pretendemos que los controladores son omnipotentes y que todo es una cortina de humo. Y que somos completamente impotentes para cambiar nuestra existencia intrascendente. Es fácil buscar refugio en el circo y el pan, cuando es lo primero que los césares nos alimentan. Lo sé, es comprensible que tratemos de vivir vidas de esas películas de cine. Condicionados a odiar lo cotidiano, enamorados de nuestros amos con Síndrome de Estocolmo.


This album is art inspired by revolution. It is dedicated to the memory of the countless souls throughout history who were brutalized by the evils of colonization and the twin myths of capitalism and religion. It is a fantasy of an alternate past, a snapshot of a turbulent present, and a compass for a more humane future.

The visual theme of Nueva Inglaterra brings together the history and spirit of resistance as they have been found in the band members’ homelands of Puerto Rico and New England. The flag of Nueva Inglaterra is Los Bungalitos' own symbol - a combination of design elements borrowed from flags of revolution, independence, solidarity and strength flown in these familiar regions over the past three hundred years.

The music featured on this album was written in Lowell, MA between 2013 and 2016. It was recorded in April 2017 as part of a marathon seven-day recording session in the woods of Shelburne Falls, MA, and was released with help from friends in September of 2018.


released September 7, 2018

Recorded by Brian Westbrook at Sonic Titan Studios.
Mixed by Jay Maas at Gateway Recording Studios.
Mastered by Brad Boatright at Audioseige.

All songs written and performed by Los Bungalitos (additional writing credit for CONSENTIMIENTO SIN CONSENTIMIENTO goes to Jim Silvio).
Produced by Los Bungalitos.
Cover concept by Los Bungalitos.

Cover photography, flag design and visual layout by Joe MacFadzen.

Vinyl available courtesy Constant Disappointment Records.

Video for INCONSEQUENTIAL WORDS by Dan Bennett.

Press and digital distribution by GrindEthos Artist Services.

Additional thanks to Adam Norton, Adric Giles, Anastasia Page, Diana Coluntino, Jared Pearson, Jenn and Jon Gryckiewicz, Jenn Ramsay, Joey Steel, Luciano Paskevicius, Meghann Wright, Mike Dailey, and Pelu Diente.

Los Bungalitos are Tim Brault on drums, Julius Hayden and Nick Lawrence on guitar, Joe MacFadzen on bass, and Enrique Vargas Rivera at the mic.


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LOS BUNGALITOS Lowell, Massachusetts

Bilingual thrash and hardcore mayhem. MVHC est. 2003.


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