From Deep Within

From Deep Within

 Perth, Western Australia, AUS

Technical/progressive/punk/rock with clean flourishes/passages. We write about issues that move us, such as politics, scepticism, life, love, human rights and death.


A long time ago, a suburb or two away, a group of teenaged boys – confined to the monotony of maroon-tie-blue-shirt Catholic high school education in middleclass suburbia – found itself voicing its frustrations through music. It starts off as a group of close friends generally dissatisfied with the prevailing order and pretty soon our whole year group has reached the consensus that we’re a group Satanists who sacrifice goats on the weekends. Oh, the irony, given our hard-boiled secularism and the fact that we were all pretty concerned with animal rights.

So, on the weekends – around the time we were supposed to be sacrificing goats (/babies/virgins) – four lads (Patty, Brendan, Aaron and Dave, at least one of whom is me) began jamming in Brendan’s rental house garage, wherein you froze if you stood still for longer than ten seconds at a time. Aaron, at the time our vocalist, spent less time singing than he did head banging with dangerous paraphernalia like hedge clippers, sledge hammers and pruning saws. Eventually, we were forced to part ways with Aaron, but, funnily enough, it had nothing to do with this practice.

These days, the three of us remaining just spend our time making vaguely-aurally-pleasing noises in the vain hope someone might be listening.

If you’re a stranger to our antics, come to one of our shows and have a beer with us. Say hi! We’re friendlier than we look.



Written By: From Deep Within

The skin hangs from the bones of Aleea’s 8-year-old daughter, who has to make a three mile trek each day to fetch water from a natural spring riddled with cholera vibrios, and it’s just a matter of time until she’s bleeding from her nose. Meanwhile, Aleea looks for something to eat by searching through the scraps of a landfill and it’s more worthwhile for her to pick up meat rotting on the ground than discarded $100 bills. I’m not going to pretend I have a magical, quick-fix solution, but I’m pretty sure it begins with remembering that we’re all human. So fuck politics and fuck economics and fuck histrionics for a moment; are we really going to just put this issue on hold? Have we really become so heartless and cold? I get that you may see me as cynical, but to what end do you think this story gets bumped to a page 35 article? To make way for yet another West Coast first-page glory? Aleea is desperately clutching her daughter’s hand when she succumbs to forces neither one of them understands. Shit water stains her dress. Vomit soaks her chest. All we can know for sure is this mother did every goddamned thing she could to help her little girl even though the rest of the world didn’t seem to give a damn about either one of them. She whispers “ndinokuda” as she watches her daughter become hypovolemic. It’s one more for the pandemic; one more for the prevailing order: Aleea’s only daughter.

The Falling Parts of a Dream (fashioned out of warped glass, mirrors and crystal prisms)

Written By: From Deep Within

The Falling Parts of a Dream
(fashioned out of warped glass, mirrors and crystal prisms)
It comes down to this: if apathy and unreason are to be the guiding principles of the collective will then I’m more than happy to just hand my keys in now and pay the remaining balance on my bill instead of waiting forever only to never see any real improvement here. I’m sick of feeling like I’m appealing to my own personal worst fears, but it looks like we never proceed together at the end of this narrative. What an exquisite, perverse and twisted piece of non-fiction it is. Am I just naïve? I can’t believe we could go along and let this happen. If we’re seeing clearer why do our schisms serve as banal rationales – like the falling parts of a dream fashioned out of warped glass, mirrors and crystal prisms – for this cataclysm of mass slaughter? It’s the calculus of further victims to these ridiculous power systems. We have no time to do all the things we want to do if we have one thing in common over time and space and it seems that every time I look around I start to feel all the more detached from the human race. So am I lost for words or are words just lost on you? Either way, it seems I’ve been left speechless in the face of the arrogance you so willingly flaunt. This is murder by indifference, in its usual haunt of “probe no further”. We seem so afraid of the social stigma that comes when you question the frayed ends of this enigma that we’ve lost the will to even try to subjugate the overwhelming torrent of tortured screams that will seep and permeate in every waking moment and haunt my dreams. This is our great achievement. It’s squalor, bloody pavement and a desperate plea for improvement. I guess I’m just sick of false promises.


"Limited Imaginings" (EP): Released 11th June, 2010.
Running time: Approx. 23 mins.

Track List:
1) Aleea
2) Four Wolves and a Lamb
3) Withdrawal Symptoms
4) The Falling Parts of a Dream (fashioned out of warped glass, mirrors and crystal prisms).