Proletariat Rock

by Araless

supported by
Gary Campbell
Gary Campbell thumbnail
Gary Campbell This punk-meets-hip hop EP is worried about mind control: "Corporations are mediating our conversations." On "Rotten Fruit" he unearths the whole system, finding it completely corrupted and demands urgent social response. The nine-minute guitar-heavy closing track, urges a simpler life, if such a thing is even still possible, before launching into a second, gorgeously sweet, low-fi hidden song.
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

      $7 USD  or more




Proletariat Rock is the the culmination of 5 years of political education and activism. Each track represents a new perspective on the subjects of race and class in the heart of a colonial empire.


released December 5, 2016

Produced by Araless
Engineered, mixed, and mastered by Jay Battle


all rights reserved



Araless Seattle, Washington

Born small and bearded on planet earth.


contact / help

Contact Araless

Streaming and
Download help

Shipping and returns

Redeem code

Track Name: Robots
Each day I decide where my mind resides
knowin every place I visit becomes more vivid inside
it can manifest itself in how I'm livin my life
so why would I wanna ingest commercialized
candy coated lies; actors speakin lines beggin me to buy
tryna control my drives
holdin my impulses hostages
vultures watchin the streets
takin techniques they see up notches
usin research to purchase psychological process
usin it against me to write checks
effects are obvious they robbin us
we ain't gained nothin more from bein more prosperous
except more stress
and a polluted metropolis
corporations are basically their own nations
and they control the flow of information
mediating our conversations about wastin time
we strive to rewind
we live in subjugation owin 20 cents on every dime
the system was set up with debt as the consequence
slaves scrapin by, buildin their masters' monuments
use common sense:
slave labor made this land since its inception
and underpaid to those with some concessions
and of course there are exceptions;
you gotta break the rules
or the people at the bottom
lose faith in their bourgeoise carrot
at the end of the stick
some men get rich
which allows them to change the world around them
to their benefit
takin what they can wit no plan to replenish it
buyin laws that justify em
crushin all dissent of it
they rise to the top, makin deals with the giants
centralizin power into monopolies in alliance
to exert force against those standin in defiance
who refuse to bow to pirates
or cower spineless
abide mindlessly to arbitrary rules meant to undermine us
do not expect equality or kindness
expect nothin more than debt until death finds us
apathy blinds us
the nihilism of the nineties binds us
to a system which will lead to mass demises
surprise people are finally risin
open your eyes up
unencumbered by wool they pulled the slumber's done
I think the math goes 99 over 1
unencumbered by wool they pulled the slumber's done
I think the math goes 99 over 1

Money doesn't make the man
it makes the man a robot

Money doesn't make the man
it makes the man a robot

Money doesn't make the man
it makes the man a robot

cuz empathy's vestigial when people are sold and bought
they label upheaval evil
cuz they know the power they got
only exists cuz they control our thoughts
Track Name: Rotten Fruit
They're strike breakers; life takers; liars and fakers, ready to fire on a crowd of college agers.
Arresting protesters to be held without trial for ages, standing by while their colleagues act wild and dangerous.
Evicting their neighbors 'cause they lost their wages, but won't help them get compensated properly for their labors.
Quicker to cuff a darker face for inhaling vapors, and since the prisons are private, that basically makes them slavers.
Business men donate so the fuzz repays the favors by protecting property, sending men and women to locked chambers.
Funny fact is they're in the same boat; working class looking asses wearing a different paint coat.
Forking dough for mortgage owed; cell phones; distractions; health plans for fam and food and water rations.
Good sons, fathers, mothers and daughters wear the badges but they're NOT those people on the clock; no compassion.
Job is to enforce whatever orders boss is asking, bashing in skulls, shooting holes if they get told to get to blasting.
Thugs and assassins 'cause the cash is steady enough to pass as job security.
Sing along if you're hearing me.

Ain't no bad apples, the whole tree's rotten;
From the roots to the leaves. Believe when police watching
they could give a shit less about your interest.
They could give a shit less about your interest.
Don't cooperate, your freedom's not their aim,
there's just one question that should be on your brain:
Am I free to go, or am I being detained?
Am I free to go, or am I being detained?

They could blow out your brains and get they wrists slapped,
closed casket *zip* body bag gift wrapped.
Boots laced up, chased down.
Tazed maced up, chained face down.
For a pay stub??? Really now. . .
Officers don't serve or protect, don't deserve our respect for putting on gang colors for a paycheck.
They ain't none of the 99 till they resign, otherwise they'll keep a close eye on those radical minds.
And if we organize to achieve some goals guess who'll be at the front lines to regain control. . .
But who's control? On whose say-so?
Who pays the patrol? Who stands to benefit from so many of us on parole?
At a rally hundreds of cops just standing around, but when you call the hogs not a man to be found.
So who's to blame?
The game or the player? The cops or the mayor?
The protesters or the pepper sprayer?
They're all just layers; lines of defense to keep the lowest class at bay, fighting or on the fence.
Blue uniforms occupied by instruments of oppression not interested who's guilty or innocent.
Track Name: Status Quid Pro Quo
Thinkin bout this bread chase got me red faced
Got me all sorts of fucked up in my head space
If you don't get it yet
You must be privileged
It don't affect you personally
That's the difference
Call me a hypocrite
For how I'm livin, shit
Knowin how the system is
But still I'm a participant
As white Americans
Here is our inheritance
Centuries of power
From generations of terrorists
Can't fix that with a conversation with a therapist
Your petty personal problems can't be compared with this
Military force opened up the doors
For corporate interests to inch in and plot their course
Divvy up the world and drain every resource
Dump our plastic trash in their backyards in heavy portions
Outta mind outta sight
Outta line; we oughtta fight
But everybody got a reason
Why they ain't the problem, right?
I wanna see the collapse of the middle class
Maybe that'll get some of these people off they little asses
Fuck a Republican
Fuck a Democrat
Both push a global capitalistic agenda. Fact.
Which also happens to be antiblack
Misogynistic and stacked against everybody but white psychopaths
No amount of perceived peace love and unity
Ends the oppression you can see
And all its casual cruelty GO

Cuz this is war that we're facin
We can't support this immoral occupation
We don't want the quid pro quo
As the status enforced by the pig pork po
The fattest cat gets fed but where the poor folk go
Cuz this is war that we're facin
We can't afford to ignore or be patient

I'm a 21st century
Descendant of peasantry
In essence subsistin on a system of white supremacy influencing culture
Based on a mythic nonscientific premise we
Proved to be untrue but it's endlessly
Subtle but sometimes it's blatant
Pointed out in history but then denied evaded
I wanna live to see it completely annihalated like a lion ate it
I feel hopeless like I'm trapped in an iron maiden
That's just how I relate it
Then I get labeled contrarian
For not bein a good American providin for the rich denyin the proletarian
I query and question
One of us will learn a lesson
Viewpoint's invalid without the proper context in
Vexin the most entitled, ignorant. Confession:
I'm still both workin to be a little bit less than
Track Name: PR Campaign
We get taxed
Funnelin money right back
Fundin illegal attacks; people get blasted
kids'll get pieces of shrapnel in backs
Fat little cats get all of that capital back
We see a fraction of that
Pushed in complicity with uncompassionate acts
Too numb to actually act
They keep tellin us to remain nonviolent
What the fuck doesn't make a bomb violent?
They buckwildin I'm sposed to keep calm and silent
or they beat me in broad daylight
and since I'm white I get it light; at least I live
More death and more crime the more police they give
No respect so there's no more peace to give
No respect so there's no more peace to give
So which side will you sit by when the shit goes down and it gets live?
Humanity, sanity, science?
Or lyin vampires you know you been bit by?
Most Americans barely can get by,
so other people we thievin get sucked dry
There won't be sympathy for who they're fucked by
It's in your own self interest to cut ties

With this imperial plot, on its way out
This is the burial plot
Force em to hear it alot
The force when the whole proletariat rock

If you ain't down with reparations
If you ain't about liberation
If you coastin complacent, if you a patriot fan of this nation. . .
If you a white European you receivin all the benefits
of genocidal colonizers
Check the shoe, I bet it fits
If it's true then get a grip, don't get up in your feels
Work past that fragility and get up on your heels
It's a passive villainy to pass the buck
Your passivity's a choice to, so that's what's up
We ain't native; we strangers to this continent
Dangerous, incontinent
Shittin all over it and onto it
Stole land, dishonored it
Kidnapped some people to work it
Created a system of racism, all of it legally worded
Used bad science to justify it
And when the klan would go ridin your grandma kept silent
Did grandpa stop cops when he saw em get violent
He let em bomb islands, shit, volunteered as pilot
Dad followed suit; Bombin and shootin, invadin the desert
And that's just a tiny lil excerpt
Yet yer convinced you shouldn't have to put in the effort

To end this imperial plot on its way out
This is the burial plot
Force em to hear it alot
The force when the whole proletariat rock
Track Name: 7 Years Ago
Seven years ago I asked what revolution mean
A young reactionary, passionate but too naive
since then I'm learnin ropes
tossed aside the color blind approach
Feeling the pressure and I haven't been losing steam
Refining my analysis
Encountering these challenges
Spotting these fallacies
Won't be swayed by foolish memes
But if I am though, reject them
being flexible my ammo
Being wrong's inevitable, false conclusions mean:
you're learning the treasure from the vermin
You got a chance to change as long as this place keeps turning;
rotating around this burning ball of gas,
hauling ass through space
while we concerning ourselves with matters of faith
figuring how to relate to sermons
looking for a heaven while this hell needs overturning
What higher purpose are you serving?
A human made god or humankind itself?
I'm urging don't become a merchant selling these assertions.
Too much complacency
I hastily piss on it
'cause the urgency spurring me
I convert it to sonic
burning chronic, ingesting alcohol
it all combines to bind me to a persona
I ponder what I can even make out of it all
Went from idealist to materialist
to be real it's not effective in all seriousness
to believe in miracles or spiritual myths
while we got people dying in the physical world right here as it sits
The status quid pro quo
will provoke a response from the real poor folk
the pigs won't know what hit them
good riddance
vengeance for innocent victims
lynching this criminal system
we inching to the limits of where this system go
so we gotta adapt
everybody give back
if we don't want an economy where poverty's fact
as long as private property's stacked
backed by the kind of officer that
pack a 9 and pull it and *blap*
bullets are flying and stop in your back
fuck a cop
and his hat, armor, weaponry, badge, flag
the whole military arm of the state
the way they repping peace then act
mad with power
devouring each and every piece they snatch; grab
that sums up five centuries of murderous cash grab
Why can't we all evolve past that
put the land and the labor stolen in the past back
these European colonies are falling like nasdaq
If you on the wrong side of this you can kiss my asscrack

How can we expect peace
on stolen land named after murdered chiefs?
Paying slave patrol police?
Sending troops to bomb the Middle East?
All so that we can have more;
a way of life paid for by war