Apache, The

by Apache, The



Apache, The is a band based out of Utah featuring Bastian Salazar, Hector Steele, B. Borealis and Dik Stevenson.

They were together less than 2 months and after recording 8 songs and before they played enough shows you could count on one hand, they broke up.

Probably because they were all assholes. But maybe just because they got tired of sharing such good music with a world too stupid to realize what they were missing.


released October 31, 2010

Recorded and Engineered by Jake Haws at Muse Recording Studio in Provo, UT

Album Art by Matt Mahurin



all rights reserved


Drew Danburry Provo, Utah

Drew Danburry is a musician who played over 750 live shows around the world and released records independently from 2004- 2010. He received attention from blogs and websites such as NPR, Stereogum, Daytrotter, Magnet Magazine, Said the Gramophone, and the 405.

In 2011, he opened the Danburry Barber Shop in Provo, Utah and currently works full time as a barber. He still records and releases music.
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Track Name: Ed Templeton or Rodney Mullen (1993)
Your parlor tricks aren't welcome, your point of view is just abuse.
You're what we say you are, you're not innocent, until its proved.
Flashing lights don't save people, you made your bed so don't complain.
Your movement is a sickness. You'll find me on your wall of shame.
We're in the same room now, but our perception of what's happening will never be the same
your ignorance is rape, you're objectified? Well so am I.
You are exactly what you fight. A faceless color in the street.
Your death will be a Wilhelm, your towering ivory will crumble down around our feet.
Track Name: George Washington Carver or John Maynard Keynes (1902)
I'm gonna find you, and when I do, your weeping mother won't recognize you
your mouth betrays you, your mind is blank.
The language that foams from your philandering mouth, deserves to be cleaned with my fist
too arrogant by half, too talented by lack, bitch.
This songs about you I don't hate to say, that I wish that you were here,
so I can stick a knife into your deafened ear.
Use fairness for selfish, expect no one to know, I'll take karma in my hands
rather than just curse your roads.
A lot of leather to give you, your education starts with physical abuse
So I'll burn olive branches, throw them on your lawn, I'll blame the child that fathered me,
not even tears can clothe the disgrace that I see.
It's a drink too many, but it's not enough. I'm gonna drown it all away or at least make a silver bullet my escape.
Track Name: Yosarian Lives or Peter Weir (1944)
You are no gentleman sir, we may be seeking to trim our sails,
but all change isn't progress just ask all those never haves and never wills.
The ugliness of our past sins, the haunting memory of those we've lost,
I'll burn all bridges behind me and display my cheeks for every ideal I have sought.
I'll cut my nose off to spite my face, I've come from dust and I'll go to a grave,
Inscribing anger to flesh wash my hands in your blood after calling you out your name.
What we take in hand we achieve, by hook or crook we'll bring you to your knees,
And when the crows cannot find you we'll taste of your misery and we will find it sweet.
I could have been your father if a dog didn't beat me there.
Take notice all of my primitive scars are displayed in the front.
And I might ask to be introduced to you,
but I can promise I'll put out my hand so I can then refuse.
And maybe I'm an iconoclast by rote,
but what's one more body against the foundations? A Cliff Evans placed by stone.
I'd rather hear myself shouting over a stupid crowd,
rather than hear what you have to say you'll never understand me anyway.
Disperse a flock with a few stones, and I might pay for it through the nose,
You jeopardize all your freedom when you exercise it Geronimo Pratt would know.
Meanwhile we fix all grammatical error in every ten cent book we read on faith,
And I will play a Cassandra with Christopher Pinchbeck like songs decorating my name.
Track Name: James Coburn or Samantha Morton (1833)
I've been thinking for a while, of a way, to help me smile,
it would be lovely to see your neck within a noose.
Feeling that warm country breeze, see you swinging in a tree,
with your own excrement all filling up your boots.
Can't think of a better day, when all you have is mine to take,
and all your loud opinions are silenced, dead and mute.
Remember when you came to me, your whole life needed fixing,
and I lent a hand because you were so destitute.
Then you claimed I'd burn in hell, for mixing moonshine and drinking, well,
well I may sleep around but my opinions aren't prostitutes.
You gather everyone around, just to fill your money pouch,
but I'm not buying your religion, it's not true.
Nothing you could do or say, to change my mind or make it sway,
and this revolver is good enough to cut you through.
Nothing you could do or say, to change my mind or make it sway,
and this revolver is good enough to cut you through.
Track Name: Robert Redford or Kristen Wiig (1973)
Darling, why you walking out that door, you scared of disaster?
And sugar when you see me no more, will your time move faster?
Cause honey you that you'll miss me, you'll miss me in your mornings.
You'll miss all the laughing we'd do, and even the boring.
And she said, ‘oh, love sometimes it grows.’
And she said, ‘oh, love sometimes it folds.’
But baby baby baby baby baby baby baby, don't you treat me like that.
I've become a man of self-respect, you know I, I won't take you back.
So if you got some thinking to do, well you know I will give you time.
But if you planning on taking long, you know I can't promise my side.
And I said, ‘oh, love sometimes it grows.’
And I said, ‘oh, love sometimes it folds.’
So if love is a building, let's get things off the ground.
And if love is a building, let's build this world around.
And if love is a building, let's make it safe and sound.
And since love is a building, let's watch it crumble round.
See it fall down. Enjoy the sound.
And we'll sing, ‘oh, love sometimes it grows.’
And we'll sing, ‘oh, love sometimes it folds.’
Track Name: Robert Cormier or Haruki Murakami (1997)
I was thinking of a way, there must some form of escape.
A way to fix what I've become, without addressing what I've done.
I'll carve the muscles from your calves, and drown your escape with my laugh.
I'll place your mouth next to a curb, so you can smile for the whole world.
Fear of abandonment is known, by my hands around your throat.
I struggle to find just one thing, that doesn't break or run from me.
Track Name: Paul Newman or Sidney Poitier (1958)
My dreams of late have clenched my fists, and scared my waking self.
(Don't let yourself fall back asleep)
We search for castles, but I'm lost amongst the living Whales.
I'm running round by Scooter, seeing the best side of France.
Hopping trains and dodging ticket takers, it's not worth it dealing with this dance.
The cops are coming up the stairs, we're actors and we're playwrights.
We're gypsies dressed as thieves, but on Sundays we are on our knees.
The red lights of Hamburg shout and scream, clawing, clawing as they climb.
And the boats of Luxembourg go back and forth, until they all capsize.
Why I chose this road I don't know, it's too hard on my own.
And dear friend we've never met before, but I think that it's been too long.
(So hold me tight and close, I'm feeling so morose.)
Track Name: Fritz Lang or Buster Keaton (1927)
We saw the European guild, we saw the messages all written round the world.
Written round the world.
We saw the Sphinx placed on high, we saw the beveled ceilings behind iron gates.
Behind Iron Curtains.
We saw the echoes of your acts, we saw the peace placed, between each and every sibling.
Each and every loved one.
We saw your hair falling in curls, we saw the sculptures placed in every single yard.
Every single doorway.
We'll give up everything we can, we'll give our all to call, your soil our home. Your soil our country.
We'll give up everything we own, we'll give our all to call, your soil our land. Your soil our haven.
We heard the music in your halls, we saw the paintings upon every single corner.
Dripping with your dreams.
We walked through fields of every kind, we spoke with every person preaching your beliefs.
Preaching your religion.
We'll give up everything we can, we'll give our all to call, your soil our home. Your soil our country.
We'll give up everything we own, we'll give our all to call, your soil our land. Your soil our haven.
Oh Europe, we're your biggest fans, you may not know us but we're aching to be friendly.
We're aching to be friends.