The Martyr Index

The Martyr Index

 Calgary, Alberta, CAN
BandRockPunk

What's that? Some oil-town anti-authoritarian butt rock? Yes, please! Calgary's The Martyr Index is back with their most aggressive line-up ever, a new record, and a mean, rowdy live performance to back it up!

Biography

The Martyr Index

"If you want to hear some REAL rock and roll, here it is in some of its finest form. And its in your own backyard." - James Callsen: X92.9 FM

"...will make you want to lob a Molotov cocktail at the next cop car you see. As if you didn’t already.” - Therese Lanz: Nerve Magazine

“This is irresistible, effortlessly catchy punk rock that spends as much time on melodies as manifestos. Seriously, if you’re not singing along by the second listen, you oughta be checking for a pulse.” - Jordan Lane: Quiet Light

“...it’s impossible to resist these infectious tunes.” - Barnaby Bennett: Beatroute

"Powerful songs from a band that is actually real. No hairspray or spandex leather. Just great rock!" - Oddball News and Entertainment

"...One album might not be enough to change the world, but when musicians of TMI’s calibre are willing to disseminate their art for free, one can’t help but think that change must be on its way." - Nick Winnick: Beatroute

Artist Biography

The Martyr Index is your favourite fist-in-the-air, banner-flying, ol' dirty pinko rock and roll band, hailing from Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Surrounded by the opulence of what could be considered the Bahrain of North America, they are exactly the kind of contradiction that you would expect from a quasi-anarchist discourse feeding off the fruits of unrepentant frontier capitalism. With just the right mix of idealism and political incorrectness, the band can manage to alienate just about anyone who's got a stick up their ass.

Yet, despite their obstinate behaviour, the band has managed to weather it out in the punk rock underbelly of North America's music scene for over 11 years. With the energy of their live performance the band has the ability to inspire their audience regardless of the city they're in or what taqueria brought them there.

Returning in 2012, after a two year hiatus, The Martyr Index is back with their strongest line-up yet and a brand new album. Look the fuck out!

Lyrics

Lions

Written By: The Martyr Index

Lions! Got to feed ‘em like lions.
Like lions! Got a hunger like lions!

Can you hear them coming, marching hard against the plain?
Dust clouds welling up like it’s ‘bout to rain.
Banners flying, filling the whole damn sky with dread
Soon the rivers here’ll be running red!

Lions! Got to feed ‘em like lions.
Like lions! Got a hunger like lions!

No Mercy for the meek, no pity for the poor,
Just a hearty appetite, always hungrier than before!
Slaves to their drives with an instinct for insanity.
A cruel inheritance for a hopeless humanity.

Lions! Got to feed ‘em like lions.
Like lions! Got a hunger like lions!

And when their bellies
Can’t hold no more
And the master’s dying
On his killing floor
Will we all turn ‘round
And walk away
Or will another
Rise again that day
‘Cause we’re too blind to find another way?
We just can’t seem to get away…

From lions! Got to feed ‘em like lions!
Like lions! Got a hunger like lions!
Lions! Got to feed ‘em like lions.
Like lions! Got a hunger like lions!

A Word And A Beat

Written By: The Martyr Index

Feedback from the satellites, it’s all just a cycling hummmm
Loops of palatable plastic waste: chewing digital bubble-gum
Don’t stop running when you hear it coming, we’ve gotta keep us on the move
The steel wheel’s turning as the flags are burnin’ and we’ve got nothing to prove
Nothing to prove!

Hey! We’re doing fine
Down here rockin’ all the time
With a word and a beat and 600 watts a strumming,
From the underground you can hear the train a comin’, yeah!

A manifesto issued forth today from the disautomatik brigade
It said “Gone are the days of the streets of romance and the safe, safe, censored airwaves
We kick our radios off the bridge tonight, we steal our music back from the sky
We mash-up, trash-up, love like we love, ‘cause we’re taking our own piece of the pie!
And there ain’t no “why?”

Hey! We’re doing fine
Down here rockin’ all the time
With a word and a beat and 600 watts a strumming,
From the underground you can hear the train a comin’ miles away!

Exclaim!

Hey! We’re doing fine
Down here rockin’ all the time
With a word and a beat and 600 watts strumming,
From the underground you can hear the train a comin’ miles away!
Yeah! We’re doing fine
Roots radicals rockin’ all of the time
With a word and a beat and 20 strings strumming
In the underground you can always hear it coming! Yeah!

We’re doing fine!
We don’t mind!
We’ll be just fine!
When the industry dies!
Let it die!
Let it die!
Let it die!
Let it die!

A Garden For Every Fist

Written By: The Martyr Index

Raise your fist in the air
Stick your trowel in the ground
Get up, get down, shake it all around
Get your get on to the rock n roll sound
Shooting up like grass through the sidewalk
Eco-systems in the city streets
We’re working our way through the gaps in the concrete
Busting open right beneath our feet

Oh! Can you see it? Whoah-oh!
The living city right before your eyes
Oh! Can you hear it? Whoah-oh!
Letting us know she’s only in a new guise

There’s no revolution
Until we touch the ground, reaching down to plant the seeds
We’re tilling the soil
A garden for every fist!

Raise your fist in the air
Stick your trowel in the ground
Get up, get down, start it right now
Gotta get a move-on on the under ground
We’ve got a thousand rooftops here
Situated for a little salvation
And a million forgotten spaces
Calling out for some imagination

Oh! Can you feel it? Whoah-oh!
The naked city beneath the soles of your feet
Oh! Can you believe it? Whoah-oh!
A metro-paradise awaits at the end of the street

There’s no revolution
Until we touch the ground, reaching down to plant the seeds
We’re tilling the soil
A garden for every fist!

Take it now!

Above the underground
That’s where you see us now
And this is our sound…
I’m singin’ all my people - c’mon, c’mon and get down!

Oh! Can you see it? Whoah-oh!
It rises amidst the flourishing foliage
Oh! Can you believe it? Whoah-oh!
We’re working our way into a new age

There’s no revolution
Until we touch the ground, reaching down to plant the seeds
There’s no revolution
Without soiled hands
We’re tilling the soil
A garden for every fist!

Wasps To Honey

Written By: The Martyr Index

It takes a certain kind of measure
Transforming genius into gold
Like an orgasmic venal pleasure
That only leaves you cold
Sweet, decadent sensation
Exists for nothing but itself
A suicidal situation
Profit over all else
Can you hear the swarm a comin’?

Sleek suits, red ties
Fortune clinging like the truth to lies
Like wasps to honey
That swarm don’t care ‘bout who made their money
Bright whites, glib eyes
What’s it take to forget those lies?
Like wasps to honey
Swarm after swarm, and they just keep on coming, yeah!

It’s just an automatic gesture
When you train it from birth
Reach in to apply pressure
And squeeze for all it’s worth
Can you hear the hive a buzzin’?

Sleek suits, red ties
Fortune clinging like the truth to lies
Like wasps to honey
That swarm don’t care ‘bout who made their money
Bright whites, glib eyes
What’s it take to forget those lies?
Like wasps to honey
Swarm after swarm, and they just keep on coming, yeah!

Sleek suits, red ties
Fortune clinging like the truth to lies
Like wasps to honey
That swarm don’t care ‘bout who made their money
Bright whites, glib eyes
What’s it take to forget those lies?
Like wasps to honey
Drone after drone, man, they just keep on coming, yeah!

It's Called Rock n Roll

Written By: The Martyr Index

1954 Bill Haley and His Comets
Came to rock us around the clock
The kids went crazy and jumped out of their seats
And that Bo Diddley boogie got 'em bobbin to the beat
With the moondog wailin’ over the airwaves
A revolution was sounded
That could never be grounded
“roll over Beethoven” was the anthem of
the kids on the street

the call of young rebels rang out across the globe
from London to Berlin, Sydney to Tokyo
Stockholm, Beirut, Rio de Janeiro
The kids of the world flew the flag of rock and roll
One generation united, passions ignited
They couldn’t get no… hey, hey, hey
“Kick out the Jams”
Was the message from the kids on the street

It’s called Rock n Roll

We want the truth, we want the real
Cause we’ve got soul and we’ve got feel
We’re the kids who won’t be told, who won’t be controlled
Undermined, bought out, packaged and sold
We’re still fucking in the back seats, jumpin’ to the up-beats
Bringin’ the riots down to the city streets
And our insurgency is something
They can’t control
It’s called Rock n Roll

The Baghdad Shuffle

Written By: The Martyr Index

Long-tailed Scorpion baking in the heat.
Desert Sands shifting to the beat of the feet, yeah.
From the Midwest to the Middle East, barrels on their plates, ready for the feast.
Black blood of the Earth boils ‘neath the sands
So they send their young to die and kill in far-off lands.

Let’s burn the Oceans, let’s burn the Seas.
Let’s burn our future in our SUVs.
Kill and maim in convenience’s name until every drop is found.
Do the Baghdad Shuffle ‘til we hit the ground.

G-7 cannibals around the fire.
…iko, iko, with a 3rd world picnic for the funeral pyre, yeah.
There’s a thorn in their side and glint in their eye.
Cut the moustache off and the beast will die.
The UN’s not invited when they twist and hop
The oil down the desert way gotta shake it to the top.

Drown us in deception, drown us in disease.
Keep us fearing phantom killers and WMDs.
Keep us filling our tanks with blood until every gallon’s burned.
Do the Baghdad Shuffle ‘til the world has turned.

Empires crumble and empires fall.
What does an empire do with it’s back to the wall?
Rome or Texas, it’s the same old lies
The figurehead postures while Democracy dies
The Moneymen rape, dollars in their eyes
Until the corpses of the innocent are drawing flies.

Let’s burn the Oceans, let’s burn the Seas.

Survival

Written By: The Martyr Index

Strong like a mountain,
Bending like a reed.
Got a loathsome burden
And a vicious mouth to feed...
They can take what they want
And when they want to they can take a lot
While we hold on for our fucking lives
We kick hard and we cut like knives
Gotta tear it down, turn it all around!

It's called survival
It's called survival, baby
Ain't no denying, we're just surviving baby
Gotta get us hope, keep us off our knees
More than surviving...

Got no fuel to burn
Got no air to breathe
Never asked for a decadent life
And it ain't about the means
'bout the only thing we know
Is the only thing they fear
We got a terror inside that you know
Burns up the atmosphere
Gotta tear it down, turn it all around!

It's called survival
It's called survival, baby
Ain't no denying, we're just surviving, baby
Gotta get us hope, keep us off our knees
Wanna be thriving
Not just surviving

We've got the will, they got the means
This world will sunder somewhere between
Masters of plight, ready to fight
Amassing now and taking flight
Vendors of greed, time to take heed
We are the weed you planted as a seed
We still laugh, we still cheer
We are victorious, we're still here
Can't chain us down, we'll turn it all around!

It's called survival
It's called survival, baby
Ain't no denying, we're just surviving, baby
Gotta get us hope, keep us off our knees
Wanna be thriving
Not just surviving

Jailbreak

Written By: The Martyr Index

I heard 'bout this kid in Watts who ain't hurt no one
Got beat down by the cops then they planted him with a gun

Then the judge say "boy, there's a consequence for what you done"
And since his skin ain't white he ain't never gon' see the sun

They burned down his American dream, and left it smokin' on the interstate

Man wants a better life, moves to Detroit from Kabul
Drivin' hack to feed his family and put his kids through school

Until one day he's arrested with no right to trial
Because Homeland Security put a terror threat on his file

They burned down his American dream, and left it smokin' on the interstate

Chain gang

Think you'll find freedom and justice the American way? Just ask Huey or Mumia or the cats at Guantanamo bay

They make money for every person they put away
So if you ain't rich, you're guilty and they'll throw you in anyway, yeah

So tear down their American dream and leave it smokin' on the inter...
Break outta their American dream
and leave it smokin' on the inter...
Burn, burn down their American dream
and leave it smokin' on the interstate

Alright, oh yeah.

Kamikaze

Written By: The Martyr Index

I am the glory
I am God's wrath
I am the soldier walking down the chosen path

My name is vengeance
Courage is my creed
My immolation is the highest of all deeds

I am divine wind:
I am Kamikaze! Kamikaze

You shake in terror
And spit my name
Without your weapons maybe you would be the same

My heart is Christian
Hindu, Muslim, Jew
I am from Jaffna, Berlin, Gaza, or Beirut

I am the shahid:
I am Kamikaze! Kamikaze!

Loyalty and honour until death!
Loyalty and honour on through death!

Kamikaze!

From Sidi Bouzid to the World

Written By: The Martyr Index

“Farewell, Mohammed
“For we will avenge you.
“We will mourn your life today,
“But tomorrow we will run them through”

The autocrat he rises
So high up in his throne
For his ignorance and his decadence
His terror he will be shown

You didn’t know that it would cause a chain reaction
How could you have foreseen that you would light the fuse
The little grocer man from Sidi Bouzid up in a smoky haze
His broken heart, a little spark to shake the world and stoke our flame

Farewell to the systems
Of corruption and tyranny
Donning shackles of our own fear
Through a filter of the enemy

But now you cannot tell me
No, now I won’t be told
Who I should hate to uphold the state
‘cause now I have grown oh so bold

You didn’t know that it would cause a chain reaction
How could you have foreseen that you would light the fuse
The little grocer man from Sidi Bouzid gone in a smoky haze
His broken heart, a little spark that could then ignite our rage

You didn’t know that it would cause a chain reaction
How could you have foreseen that you would light the fuse
The little grocer man from Sidi Bouzid up in a smoky haze
His broken heart, a little spark to help incite our rage

Lively Dead

Written By: Mark Bizek, Stephanie Cox

The morning washes away the lies as promise opens her eyes
With guilty ghosts up in the air she falls back in the nightmare
She’s trying so hard to wake up...
And what her blood requires makes her palms perspire.
Addiction takes away from her ability to conquer
She sold her luck to the living
She sold her luck to the lively dead
And she just can’t stop giving
Into the voices in her head.
And she wants so badly to be dry...
And when it rains, it really pours into her wounds and in her sores.
And all the guilty ghosts above become the people she loved
She sold her luck to the living
She sold her luck to the lively dead.
And she just can’t stop giving into the voices in her head.
She sold her luck to the living
She sold her luck to the lively dead
And she just can’t stop giving
Into the voices in her head
She sold her luck to the living
She sold her luck to the lively dead
She just can’t stop feeding
The monster that needs to be fed

Discography

Songs In The Key Of Strife LP
(2013)

Lions EP
(2012)

Molotov Rocktail
(2008) Meter Records

Molotov Rocktail LP (vinyl)
(2008) Meter Records

It’s Called Rock n Roll
(2006) Meter Records

1936
(2002) Independent

COMPILATIONS

True Until Death 2
(2002) United Edge Records

Hold Your Ground Vol 2
Constructive Revolutions
(2003) Activist Network