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We Cater To Cowards

by Oozing Wound

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    We Cater To Cowards available in a limited quantity of metallic silver vinyl. Includes a digital download card.

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    We Cater To Cowards on Compact Disc.

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      $12 USD or more 


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Bank account anxiety Every time I check It’s all work, all work It makes me really upset Now my rents rising And I eat bullshit for food I’m bad luck, bad luck And there’s nothing to do Once I had dreams Where now it’s dollar signs I’m fucked, I’m fucked I’m miserable inside Drain on society Like a ball and chain I’m stuck, I’m stuck And here I go again God it’s so fucked Bank account anxiety Here let me count the ways That I’m fucked, I’m fucked It’s never going away Make it up and lie to me My life until it ends More work, more work Oh here I go again There’s no future for us So go and get all you got There’s nothing left cause Somebody’s taken it all God we’re so fucked It’s bank account anxiety
I’m the king of cultural waste On a franchised throne All across the space That binds the world The time for the rope has come to pass Hanging in the streets I’m a hero at last But you can’t hurt me - I’m the lead in this story And I’m never going away Like fire - I burn Such a bright light burn Like a fire - I burn Such a bright light burn No more light - I’m a black hole No more bright light Burned Dead Light
Whatever you’re feeling, feeling’s of a child Corrupted memories, grown up and died It’s always been the same, from existence to now Picked over and over again, golden calf’s a cow Remember the good times, I don’t miss em at all I’ve already lived through this, once was enough You see, I’ve been here before but it’s gone There’s nobody left cause everybody moved on Bought in, aged out, or died down like a fire I’m living the proof but I feel like a liar Now I’m wide eyed Blind, one eye Wide, one eye Blind, one Eye Beats me beet red like a drum I don’t feel anything I just get to be numb Poor me, oh I keep changing my mind On a möbius trip for the rest of my life, right? Now I’m wide eyed Blind, one eye Wide, one eye Blind, one Eye
Hypnic Jerk 02:03
Well I can’t read the news And I can’t watch TV Can’t stand these voices Talking on and on to me I’m my therapist’s shrink And man, she’s got a lot to say I never get in a word But I still get to pay All this talk about shit That keeps bringing me down All these little nightmares Always waiting to be found There’s a voice in my head That’s lurking’ round like a twin So now I’m never alone Even in my own skin Can’t have any peace No silence when I’m around All these little nightmares Only waiting to be found
Crypto Fash 04:03
It’s bad Bad news from outer space It looks like God has dumped us Our planet’s being erased We’ve all come to the slaughter Like a massive drove of pigs Fattened up right for the taking Waiting for their knives to sting And I don’t care, care at all I don’t care, don’t care at all If it hadn’t come from outside It would have come within Race toward annihilation Destruction inch by inch And I don’t care, care at all I don’t care, don’t care at all The world is decimated And there’s no hope left on Earth The next bullshit existence In the bullshit universe In the end the only prize is To be the first to die So this nightmare continues And there’s no reason why And I don’t care, care at all I don’t care, don’t care at all
Chudly 03:09
I take my life like a punchline to the face I’m a joke out of timing - a fossil of a lost late age So, this is why I’m alive - last one down gets to dig the grave I’m the last to arrive - I get to carry the dead weight And I know why Cause I’m the dud A Chudly Dunderson Hail Chudly Hail Chudly Why a Chudly why - we could’ve had the world This scene is dying - but I’ll still work the room Give the old song and dance - before it gets too late to ask For a little something else - before this party just Goes, Goes, Goes, Gone
If I had wanted fun, I would’ve made it You gotta get work done, before you take it Easy! That son, is number one Don’t want to be a failure, you gotta be someone Don’t wanna be like me son, don’t wanna be like me Right now I could e working, but someone keeps on Crying! Crying! Signs - in the back of my mind Signs - one ask at a time Signs - in the back of my mind Signs, signs In the back, in the back of my Mind… and I’m off, just trying to make a dime Oh, this is business son - no time, for you, no time Why can’t you stand? Don’t understand? What kind of lazy baby just lays there on its back? If you had worked for me, I’d fire you so fast Just cause that you’re my son, don’t mean you get to slack What would the boys at work say? What would the boys all say? They’d take one look at you son, and say that I’m to blame Guess I don’t know my strength - I’m not a violent man Yeah I don’t know my strength, I’m not a violent man But that’s what they’ll all say
Old Sludge 04:12
Thoughts like a fucking thorn in my side Wanna bash my brains in until I can smile But I still can’t get away, get away, from my mind Can’t wait for my body to rot with corpse smell Incinerate me on my way to hell Throw me in the sea and let the fish eat me Or carve me up and cut my life away - it’s ok! Feel my beating heart and wanna rip it out Feel it sputtering while I’m bleeding out And they’ll say I’m gone I’m moving on And I’ll say, finally Oh you can’t sue me No you can’t sue me for cutting lines in purgatory Still it feels like I’m scratching on a phantom limb Can’t tell where I end and where nothing begins And I still can’t get away, get away, where I’ve been Where I’ve gone, Where I’ve been
Think I’ve got about Thrity feet To the door Eleven steps, maybe less It’s hard to count Anymore I can’t see I can feel Eyes on me Up the stairs Hand to lock Fumbling the key Pulse is racing He is coming Get inside And I’m free Ha, hah… He’s here


Oozing Wound are both a subversive force in heavy music and key players in Chicago’s vibrant DIY warehouse scene. Their albums gleefully defy categorisation, delighting in contradictions and delivered with self-aware humor that sets them apart from their peers. No one is safe from their scathing gaze, not even themselves. Self-described as “a rock-band wolf in metal sheep’s clothing”, this disparity has brought accusations of the band “not taking this seriously” in the deeply serious business that is entertainment. Beneath the blunt- force of the trio’s music lies a deep-set dedication to sonic experimentalism. Catalysts of Chicago’s underground, the trio of guitarist and vocalist Zack Weil, bassist Kevin Cribbin and drummer Kyle Reynolds are champions of irreverence, experimentation and unrelenting volume. Their impact on Chicago DIY can not be overlooked: Cribbin lived in and ran legendary performance space Situations, while Reynolds’ Rotted Tooth Recordings was home to many of the scene’s essential artists. On new album We Cater To Cowards, Oozing Wound push their music further by turning metal into itself and with their scathing social observations they have produced an album that is devastatingly fierce and undeniably addictive.

Oozing Wound’s self-deprecating humor here reveals something surprisingly honest lurking beneath the veneer of nihilistic detachment. We Cater To Cowards' lyrics often revolve around anxiety, fear, and the terror of modern existence. Persistent intrusive thoughts are given form in “Old Sludge”s noxious eruptions of noise. “Hypnic Jerk” mirrors 2020’s incessant waves of bad news in the track’s relentless onslaught and churning groove. “Chudly” channels the feeling that you’re the last of your kind, fighting a fight that no longer exists. Just when the listener thinks they know what is coming, the band’s dark layered humor rears its head, as on “Face Without Eyes”, (beyond being a play on the Billy Idol song of a similar name) a song based on the Ray Bradbury character the Lonely One. These heavy doses of unabashed honesty are less metal and in a myriad of ways closer to TAD, early Nirvana, and the heavier elements of the late 80’s Seattle Sound.

We Cater To Cowards builds exponentially on its predecessor High Anxiety’s experiments with dynamics and unusual instrumentation. While songs start with Weil’s arrangements, they mutate in the practice space when the monstrous rhythm section of Cribbin and Reynolds forge the pieces into grotesque new shapes. From the complex rhythms of “Crypto Fash”, to the Beethhoven-inspired slabs of sound of “Total Existence Failure”, the arrangements are inventive and unexpected. Horns from longtime friends Thyme Jones and Bruce “Hesh” Lamont add depth and texture to Weil’s rippling distortion throughout, at times subtly blended into the mix only to erupt into a full skronk solo on “Old Sludge”. The complex arrangements and unexpected sounds elevate and enhance the group’s searing sonics without losing its focus.

We Cater To Cowards is the band’s most daring and devastating album; it is a refreshing and exhilarating mutation of genres forging Oozing Wounds’ own distinct path. As Weil aptly puts it: “we don’t care about propriety or the sanctity of TRVE METAL or any of that bullshit.” Thank God they don’t. For those who do care to dig a little deeper, We Cater To Cowards is a deeply rewarding pummeling good time.


released January 27, 2023

Zack Weil: Guitar, Vocals, Piano
Kevin Cribbin: Space Bass
Kyle Reynolds: Drums
Thymme Jones: Trumpet on “Chudly” “Hypnick Jerk” “Face Without Eyes” and “Crypto Fash”
Bruce “Hesh” Lamont: Saxophone on “Old Sludge” “Chudly” “Hypnic Jerk” “Face Without Eyes” and “Crypto Fash”


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Oozing Wound Chicago, Illinois

"'the world’s fastest noise rock band'"
-Pitchfork Media


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