BandRockHip Hop

Tenfold is a singer, rapper, songwriter, & producer of Archivists records. Though Tenfold usually focuses on the lyrical tip (elevated and poetic lyrics), every album and live performance includes live instrumentation and production from other musicians within the ArchivistsCrew, building music up..


Tenfold is a member of the Archivists (www.archivistrecords.com), a crew based out of the SouthWestern United States. Tenfold's style was born out of the conscious Hip Hop styles of the 90's and quickly grew to adapt variations in style and genre. After temporary disbandment of the Typikal Human Animals (Tenfold's high-school Hip Hop group), Tenfold moved to Eugene, OR for a span of four years during which time he and co-lyricist/producer Daks-One formed the group Eyes for Echoes, a live Hip Hop band containing Sax, live drums, drum machines, Keys, bass, live turntablism from Oregon's well know DJ Celsius. Eyes for Echoes was very well received in Eugene and Bend, OR, playing shows with Mikah 9, Carnage and Jimmy2Times, and other touring Hip Hop acts. However, the best shows during this period were played at co-ops and venues near campus which could boast 200-400 occupants a night.
After graduating college, Tenfold decided to move to Austin, TX in hopes to pursue new musical quests and reunite with former high-school band mates under the newly formed Archivists label and crew name. In Austin, Tenfold immediately began working with Zuse-One, DJ Limn, and Thesaurus Rex on various musical recordings. During this time, Tenfold and other members of the Archivists performed at Creekside Live, the Karma Lounge, and other smaller venues in the Austin area.
Recently, in the fall of 2009, Tenfold and the Archivists took their music on the road. The I-5 or Die tour spanned a total of twelve days and took the four musicians from Downtown LA (@ the Airliner with Percee P and Trek Life) to Redondo Beach (@ Kegs) to Santa Cruz (@ Motiv nightclub) to Ashland, OR (@ the Hong Kong) to Salem (@ the Triangle Inn) to Eugene (@ John Henry's) for the tour finale. The tour was a great success in part because of the wonderful response received from all the acts and more importantly because it was entirely funded, organized, and performed by Tenfold and the Archivists crew.
Today, Tenfold is living in Austin, TX, shifting gears to a liver, more involved sound. By the time SXSW comes around, Tenfold will have a host of music accompanied by live instrumentation by Joel Johnson, Thesaurus Rex, and friends...get ready Austin, get ready for the Archivists



Written By: Nils Gould (Tenfold)

In my solitude…
I hold strong, sing my songs, and carry on…

Ain’t it been a big, bad, body-rockin’ Tuesday,
And now a Wednesday...here on earth.
Here I wait, evaluate my worth,
Lift my head, cry notes and curse.
Ain’t a soldier in sight but fools to my right,
That swallow their souls in the liquid night.
Ain’t a hope in hell for the rest of the crew,
So I’m a think about me, you should think about you…

Of coarse, you could do like the rest and latch on,
…I’m a think about me, you should think about you…
Of coarse, you could act the best and play along,
…I’m a think about me, you should think about you…

That’s the style of the TY profile,
Speaking with a smile, aint it wild like the wild
Wild west. The protest: nothing but a mess,
One street leads home, other to apocalypse.
I’m still strutting like I’m doing the tango
Sanity turns until limbs are mangled.
Hell no, I done walked these dark roads by myself
Twenty odd times before I walk with someone else.
I am what I am, far from you…
…In my solitude…uhuhuh

Of coarse the hardcore got som’n to speak on,
Looking around like bygones can’t be gone.
The skeptic lives in all of these kids,
working for self while knee-deep in the biz.
They’re holding on like a lover to the loved,
Digging in the nails even when getting shrugged
raising up the sails while the winds blow amock,
sweating round the circles, only getting stuck.
But damn, that’s not me and never will be,
One moment at a time, that moment’s for me.
Those moments are me, and me alone,
It’s my universe…and this my poem

Of course, that’s really why I sing these song.
…I’m a think about me, you should think about you…
Of course, you silly duke could do wrong,
…I’m a think about me, you should think about you…
Of coarse, you could do like the rest and latch on,
…I’m a think about me, you should think about you…
Of coarse, you could act the best and play along,
…I’m a think about me, you should think about you…

Here I stand like David etched in stone
My medium flourishing in Medusa’s home
Slowly grown in the high-desert rain,
Been taking on Goliath and taking on change.
Wednesday’s another time-span to master
Built the foundation, adding on the plaster
And once these 24 go rolling out the door,
I’ll be asking the cook for 24 more.
Getting fed like gluttons on this life, this ritual,
Been dealing with love, then dealing with the dismal.
The subliminal…it aint really for me,
Reality, in all its forms, has been more friendly.
Empty: that space, that jar your sitting in,
I long since lost in my state of questioning.
Eternal confession, act of cleansing,
Birth of the second, now behold my shedding,
I concentrate as I’ve always concentrated,
Thick and thin carry my flesh ‘till I’ve made it.
By my…lonesome If it needs be, being me
until today when the honesty kills me.


Written By: Nils Gould (Tenfold)

I guess that’s the lesson: Don’t you dare talk back.
But it begs the question: Who could learn from that?
Neurotic as the next man, Staying off of crack,
consider it a blessing when I get to talk smack.
The best kind of discord Is that of the discourse
the west wins this war The east rides this horse
If you want to rip roar That what the spliff’s for
Get blown like Newports In this here new sport.
I’m sitting in the study trying to get my head right.
Searching for a clue, I’ve brought my lead pipe.
Who are you? Call me the colonel, the professor.
Passing Go every role, Aint no half-stepper.
I spread the mustard, ate the plums in the ice-box
I killed custard And smuggled in the small pox
On ancient podiums I once wrote my name.
In the 1 spot, add a 0, aint nothing changed…

And here it is, sold straight to the kids
Buisiness is at large, and so far, we’re getting rich,
It’s hard but it fits, so hard in the mix, its war and I’m it,
It’s hits…

Hear no, see no, speak no, heed no…
Keep your zero, reap the fearful, steer where we go,
know the people, veer the ego, then real slow,
Watch the seed grow, feed the depot, be a hero.
The man in the clown suit
That turns soup like bowel movements.
Can hoop but his game loosens to pantomime
Every inch of land is taken like Palestine
I rally round time knowing I’ll reap what’s mine.
If I was blind, I wouldn’t have blinded Samson,
Fueled Shelley’s anthems, or held Troy at ransom,
Dance some to the rhythm of the Kung, then run.
The crackle of a lung, the whip of my tongue. I’ve sung
With hooligans and boomerangs, madmax food-chain
no-names whose highest hope’s to ride that coke-train.
I’ve beat-boxed on black-markets, handing out harvests
Of poisoned fruit, cause the loot defines the artist…

It’s hits, paddle-type, civil-strike, get it right
The type that Icarus saw when he looked into the light.
Then, here it goes, simple-slow, gain a lead toward the glow,
Take no knee for fear the reaper means what he shows.
I hunt death as if death had me in shackles,
Guerrilla battle, I ain’t rattled, tearing down the tabernacle.
With Adam’s apple, my tongue twists and spins,
Ride a saddle strapped to a horse named win.
Before you bring the pain, you’ve got to bring the posture,
Or else go insane, become the phantom of the opera.
To battle takes brains, exposing imposters,
To bring down the industry, you must become the monster.
Even the wholly self-sponsored get worked,
They establish themselves, then neglect the net-worth,
This, Pinoche, grand array, ghost of a tune,
Is plucked from the fields but remains rotten food.


Written By: Nils Gould (Tenfold)

Form (May 30th, 2008)

Form is form, and I could have form but.
I want to brainstorm. Drop some acorns.
Or Maybe dig deeper, sworn treasure seeker.
Sucking the marrow from the bones of J Ceasar.
I hope to please ya, like some beef-eater
Brought a boss feature cause I’m a cross breeder.
And like Kerouac I drive a train of thought.
So you can enjoy the ride or get the hell off.
I used to gain wisdom from battles and such
But the scene’s been fucked and we all run amock,
But hey, the things that please cant be taken by degrees,
Gotta give the fat lady some love to make her sing.
Same with everything earnest, awesome, or honest:
They all take a life but the life ain’t no promise.
The cipher, indeed, dark matter in the middle.
the circle gets hyphy and the clouds rain skittles.

Text is text, they say text can address but.
I figured if I spoke my word you’d hear it best.
It’s only in line to step out the box and enthrall,
Make those around you look good like Chris Paul.
But if shit hit ya’ll, I mean, smack in the forehead.
Would you get your pistol or keep on playing dead?
Most folks are gonna stay up in their cuisinart
Receiving post cards from the few that do depart.
What is this art? And with whom can I attach it?
Which rep is in charge of our generation’s madness?
To say beauty is truth, and truth is beauty
Is a reckless abuse of one’s artistic duty.
I am no scribe, we are hardly see-through,
We cog up this machine but we are honest people.
Honesty is the place from which the critic interprets
Honesty is truth and truth is purpose.

Truth is truth now what say we let loose
And shed these illusions of language as proof
The human mind’s a shrine topped with this lid
First came the thought, then the word…ya dig?
All art is recycled, recycled like matter.
Every single thought has been put into pattern.
That pattern is random, all is available:
The question becomes what you want at your table.
Do you rest your hand on leather bound editions,
Or swear on discounted magazine subscriptions?
In this courtroom we play all sides but witness.
Defendants now rise to survive the fittest.
May all rise for truth, may all rise for form,
Those two things being separate, not one.
You could ask KRS, he’d know where to start, saying:
Truth is not beauty is honestly art


-"We Don't Do Karaoke" by the Typikal Human Animals. 2003. eng. by Lauri Hakola at MC 313 studio in Santa Fe, NM. Production and 1/4 of lyrical content by Tenfold.
-"The Dump" by Tenfold with guests. 2004, MC 313 studio.
-"Eyes for Echoes" and "Pearl St Sessions"by Eyes for Echoes. Lyrics by tenfold. 2005, 2006. Eugene, OR.
*"Fingerprints" by the Archivists. Majority of lyrics by tenfold with production by Daks-One and other members of the archivists in Eugene, OR.
*recent singles:
"Hey Yo" feat Thesaurus Rex, produced by See $. Austin, TX. 2009
"Blow up your box" featuring Thesaurus Rex, produced by Kelakovski of the UK. Austin, TX. 2009

Set List

A typical Tenfold set includes the accompaniment of a DJ, a live band, or both (with a live band being the more recent favorite). When Tenfold performs with a live band, the songs typically last 3-6 minutes. When performing with a DJ, songs typically last 1 1/2 minutes to 2 1/2 minutes. Typical set with live instrumentation:
1. intro jam with freestyling and constant hook.
2. 'Hey Yo' (catchy chorus, features Thesaurus Rex of the Archivists)
3. 'Bullion' (faster, intricate rhymes)
4. '!st' (this song displays the guitar skills of Joel Johnson, Austin local and member of Night Meat and the Black Squeeze)
5. 'Waverunner' (slower, harmonic song with lots of DJ-lyricist interaction)
6. 'Blow up your Box' (also features thesaurus rex. hard, battle-oriented, and punch-line heavy)
Tenfold has an arsenal of over 30 of his own songs with can be done to original instrumentation or re-mixed if the scene is more night-club oriented. Covers are mostly done between songs for enter