by Broken Few

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Our eagerly anticipated debut album. Recorded in seemingly unending snow in 2010 with Jason Sanderson, this release chronicals 14 raw, melodic, firey polemics and personal laments.

It's taken a while, but we are pleased to announce a September 5th release on Worn Thin Records. This disc comes with 12 page booklet full of linear notes on glorious matt art paper.


released September 5, 2011

Broken Few is Jonathan Honnor, Lee McConnell, Jordan Lovett and Greg Robson.



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Broken Few Sunderland

Broken Few is a melodic rock band from Sunderland UK, formed in late 2008 by former members of The Mercury League, Uni Wrong, and Former Cell Mates. They enjoy DIY music, meat-free dinners and expensive whisky.

So far the band has managed to play countless gigs – most recently a 10 date support tour with Canadian legends the Sainte Cathrines - and release their debut album 'Concision'.
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Track Name: A Turning Point
Here’s a trophy for your achievements, for empty gestures. We’re in awe of your stardom and raptured by ignorance. How much more can be done to sustain this iron lung, to prescribe these practices, to maintain these cenotaphs? Is this another turning point?
Track Name: Settled Debts
The winners were scared in the wake of the debris – the upshot of contested legacies. But the rituals and monuments quickly diminished any consequence. As we balanced their books, our pages were torn and the carnage fused as millions mourned. These symbols we’ve come to wear are tainted by despair and by the forces who can only feign virtue. Not just to fake or glorify. No necessary sacrifice. Vultures return to where they once nursed. Ripping flesh from bone, they feed. This is our economy unleashed.
Track Name: Failed Solutions
They’ll kick you to the ground or chase you out of here. Its fear that gets us every time, our thoughts consistently sincere. I’ve staked my claim and for what its worth, spilled their blood in sacred earth. Continued, covert crimes and strife. Stand up straight, and do as best you can, make some moves to reach your land. But it makes no sense, nothings clear. Where’s your truth and what do you hold dear. Constant thoughts are bred by constant doubt. A lie once lived becomes the truth, another mandate to dilute. Now witness our ideals, all solutions have now failed, all ambition laid to rest. I’ve staked my claim, and for what its worth, spilled their blood in sacred earth.
Track Name: Shifts
This is the moment where we turn to face ourselves. Within these sprawling corridors, these crowded halls, amongst impenetrable texts. Passivity and despair. All assertions worn well thin, all accusations tired and stale, we’ll roll out every farfetched myth around just to resist constraint. Those days are gone. Our days are numbered. Our senses numbed. This arrogance tramples down all opposing interests. Now, with the battle lines redrawn, and yet more to kick against, life as we know it hangs upon our expansion or restraint. What do we have left? Should we just hold our breath and wait for promised lands or empty threats to fulfil, make or break us? Those voices just impede the motivations that we need to stop the comforting paralysis that breeds. I can’t let the testament of a few pathetic men sign off on destruction and this insane mess we’re in. Those days are gone and our senses numbed. But arrogance convinces us.
Track Name: Unending Tasks
Her tone tramples them all down in the end. Her discourse resounds and it’s brutal. In desperation you try not to drown. A pitiless breathless message of dissent. The turning point is here, at the summit pointing west. Cast in their roles, underscored rights, wrapped in violence, torn right apart. Her life stained by severed ties and history provides a brand anticipated and debated for her crimes. All dimension lost in the fanfare. But it’s something to question aggressive means in such incendiary times with leaders with their ears to the door. Their thoughts dissolved her to denigration, a force that rocked foundations. All dimension lost in the fanfare.
Track Name: Exit Strategies
Between races to divide them thick and fast, as encouraged occupations advance their splintered past, they leave little more than the groundwork for extremist forces to breed where the cracks were born. And those who have blind faith in proxy wars abate all conceivable resolutions. I’m not alone, I know, as I’m pained to see generations lacking any memory of anything outside of war and strife. Beyond our comprehension of their plight. Signals crossed, collision paths, static screams, and splintered seams. Lives are inexpensive, but when is payment ever due? Wars abroad will end at home. The motives and manoeuvres will always vary and diverge to conduct western liturgies. Wars abroad will always end at home. Our delusions diminish our ability to distinguish windows from TV screens.
Track Name: Bearing and Distance
So we sit tight at the feet of nail biters and thieves as the plans are set in stone by the indispensible. We’re under siege. Our lives on hold for spectacle and old routines, consumed by cold war fallacies. You may not know the acts done in your name but on the receiving end they know your prostrations all too well. They can’t be written off as unintended costs or the price to end your outrage. To face facts against doubt, or to make bets as this house burns out. Just the by-products of intentions obscured by conflict. Acts to malign fictitious foes with comforting rubrics. Such comforting rubrics. I guess we’re all just waiting for reality to hit. The unspoken is no less real. The recognition of the enduring struggles that short memories omit. It may take longer for the afflictions to take hold, but in the end you reap what you sow. The unspoken is no less real.
Track Name: Backbrace
You’ll excuse me if I don’t wipe my feet. This won’t take long. I’m here to take away your family. You should have never picked a fight. You should really get your head checked properly. That won’t take long. You shouldn’t ask for my respect. There’s a sickness that your hold dear, a sickness that can’t be named. No, there’ll be no respect for you why should there? I’m here to rip you from your back brace. You never saw it coming.
Track Name: Concrete
Unconscious in a hospital bed his legacy alive as we ring in yet another “man of peace”. It seems all paths lead to this paradox. Linguistic roadmaps – diverted traffic is the only aim of his cheap talk. So many short fuses on city buses but retaliation only fuels a “right to defend and protect” against what they instigated too. Simulated peace offers are what they display and convenient myths are recounted to those who question what they say. Again we come full circle in this effort to prolong another iteration of what’s happened for too long. And those overt targeted killings are dressed up but the corpses tell the true story. Fingers crossed for an implosion. Lone shots to the forehead don’t indicate the impact of a bomb blast. Fingers crossed for an implosion. A simple demand for reciprocity surely requires you to first concede.
Track Name: Increments
It took strength to do what you did – to cross countless miles and countless seas, to escape this mess, to leave behind the work of cowards with arms. The burden of the dead and the left behind remain to still play on your mind as you run. Stripped of everything but your dignity inside. Sometimes reality cuts through like knives. But hope remains. Isolation awaits. Not some awkward point between fixed states of departure and arrival dates. And you will be left with anger, threats of vengence, justice, raids. Here destruction’s less cosmetic but perception still pervades. With strength, relocate. They don’t sleep because they know their futures. Move forward and carve out your path with strength. Don’t let your story die out. What happened must be told.
Track Name: Concision
No tears shed for balance. No sleep lost for expansion or reflection. Scope for thought was bad business. A valid single source? Restriction of knowledge on a grand scale but that’s good business. A greater understanding you can take it as gospel what a shining example of a free press. Concede to FNC verdicts. Their framework sets out perspectives. Provide the right point of view. Loss of diversity assimilated carbon copy news. Platforms for conservative capitalist rhetoric. Carefully fed and hand picked stories. Remodel events in its wake concision abate. We don’t need to listen. What a worrying premise. Bite sized opinion provided gratis. News producing bodies which hinge on financial backing and influence of a wealthy elite. It’s hard to get a full picture when (ultimately) one concern prevails: profit. Sports!? This is not the news. Arranged in concise small boxes and spun in familiar directions. Competing alternate sources. Same difference, same flaws, same purpose.