supported by
flute loop
flute loop thumbnail
flute loop this made satans list of hottest new tracks of 2016 Favorite track: BACK FROM THE DETH RELM.
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

      name your price




and AKEEM INNIS on track 2

DETH NARC would like to thank mike dvorscak, andy schyuler, akeem innis, & jason fox

ROSS would like to thank brian gibson, brian chippendale, brian wilson, brian eno, his mother, & his cat. NICK would like to thank laurie, thea, norma, carlos, john frank, all the people who said he couldn't do it & all the people who said he could. BRUCE would like to thank family, friends, & detractors. happy birthday brother!


released March 15, 2016

recorded in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night
all songs written by DETH NARC
all songs engineered, mixed, & mastered by mike dvorscak except track 2 by mike dvorscak & andy schyuler



all rights reserved


DETH NARC Harrison, New York


contact / help


Streaming and
Download help

Black dice, they never get dirty/The longer you gamble, the blacker they get/Someday, I’ll pay you back promptly/But for now I’ll just sit here and continue to sweat

Dylan displayed no respect /He whipped his dick out and pissed next to deth /I’m enjoying the absence of curse/My father caught Zs near bodies much worse/I dream about serpents - I try not to scream/Customers yell at me over the ice cream/Small men move fast to deliver quick thoughts about whether or not the diagnosis is fraught with lies
Track Name: DETH NARC
As we’re laughing and smoking and yakking outside/the cops approach, armed with flashlights and tempers/Their badges say power and our faces say party/their mouths say in so many words: “promptly scamper”/A fellow walks by and he has his pants sagging /It catches the eyes of the pigs on patrol/The oinkmen commence their familiar nagging/our hero says “Fuck this, I’m going home”

A B C D E F G/I won’t let you fuck with me/D E T H N A R C/Stay skeptical of the C O P’s

Keep your eyes peeled for the boys in blue/I don’t trust em and neither should you
Track Name: BUZZ
“Make sure to pick up some brews for tomorrow,” the wife tells me on my out the door/of our four-story house (pink with bright yellow shutters)/I’m already outside - can’t hardly hear her no more/Sunday’ll come, and the crew’ll come here/the Pats only play the Jets at home once a year/It can get a bit lonely this far from the place that everybody I ever knew was born n’ raised at/but I’ll sacrifice safety for cheap real estate/You don’t gotta be frugal when you’re living in space/No more worrying about the Earth heating up/or the President flying it into the sun.

Yeah it’s cold, cold, cold, cold, when it’s dark, dark, dark but it was way, way colder on Earth
Track Name: FOR KELLY
Nobody deserves to have such an anxious son/but you took it like a champ and tried to get me to have fun/The older aunts have said you were as happy as can be/But I guess your luck ran out when you and Dad decided to have me/You learned how to tell yourself that it’s okay if not everything works/You’ve tried your best to deal with a being that won’t stop yelling “everything hurts”/When’s Mother’s Day? I need to save up for the child you deserve
I’ve got mail that you can’t open/not with a boxcutter, a knife, or permission/You can’t read the address, it’s written in German/I know you failed that shit when we were freshmen, no sweating/Your knowledge of my mail is post office treason/mental chainmail storage protects me from reasoning.

Don't throw the baby out with the bong water/I've smoked the green deth that this cold campus offers / I built a utopia with recycled matchboxes/and scoffed at detractors while fucking up milestones/I've never been honest with tom, dick, or harry/my dog's getting old and my brain turned all scary/The cylinders fire they run at capacity/life's not for me, you'll find me deep in the countryside

“Guns, dogs, knives, food seeds, a small television, an AM/FM radio, a bunch of books, a bicycle, bicycle, bicycle, a tape recorder, a coffeemaker, seventeen notebooks, seventy pens, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a lighter, and one butt for the apocalypse.”

On the first trip back, i'd grab another backpack and a gameboy (because i like screens more than i'd care to admit) and a small guitar (to pen little ditties dedicated to the dreamers back home) and on the second trip back, i'd find you yell this at you for the last time:

"You were good to me in so many ways, but I failed you with squandered talent, lack of motivation, a habit of avoiding every little thing that scared the shit out of me, until one day, when I'll be forced to confront all three by confronting you two and to deal with the goings-on of life that keep me up at night - arriving at answers as fast as the comfortable yet rattly stolen buggy i rode in on. Emailing health services like 'how early do you guys open?' Emailing god like 'hey, my brain's doing the thing again' Talking it up because i'm never sure if i'm being honest with you, or me, or you. Love, me"

As I go for the John Wayne look, riding off into the sunset, the irony of a gung-ho cowboy with a deth wish and a revolver looking to help (for help, from help, whatever) rears its funny head and I'm off. I’ll go home to a waterbed if it rains because I technically never got my carpenter’s license. If I did I'd yell “No one has ever gone into heaven except the one who came from heaven—the Son of Man.” And you'd punch me thrice, and I'd take it thrice.
I like you more than a cigarette after work/I like you more than Ramen dinner after work/I like you more than board games after work/I like you more than looking at the stars after work / If it was up to me, I would never go to work/I would hang out with you every day/but it’s not up to me, money’s not found on trees/and being lazy won’t get me paid

When I wake up, sweating and hungover/you are the cool breeze and the cold glass of water/and when I fall asleep, freezing and lonely/you’re the down comforter, you’re the comforting story/when i got the blues, you’re all the pinks/the yellows, reds, oranges/my textbook disagrees but fuck it, this is what my heart says

If you fell deep down in a hole/I would jump down there too so you wouldn’t get bored/If you got sick and the only cure was on the moon/I’d highjack a space shuttle and get your meds back to you/Everybody knows I’m mega miserable right now/Heaven, hell, and everyone in between/but in your company, my nightmare feels more like a dream

I like you more than myself, that’s for sure
Junior high sometime: nerves run the highest/Comfort and compassion hang out at the Hyatt/If you could bottle your charisma, I’d sure as fuck buy it/But not after knowing the truth that supplied it/Get lost

I break mugs in dark rooms: Class A klutz dingbot/I lose important things bimonthly: Class F son and student/You give mugshots in dark spots, you break bonds between paid rent/Parent figures are hands off- don’t wanna repeat kids (the mishaps)

I hated prisons long before you called em your home/but my home is a jail cell, stop calling the house phone/leave me alone