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    12" full length vinyl LP. Randomly mixed color vinyl. Probably silk-screened or wheatpasted jacket. Picture/lyric sheet.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Numbers via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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released January 2, 2012



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No One and the Somebodies Bronx, New York

No One and the Somebodies is composed of the four Yankou brothers: Brian, Steve, Kevin and Bobby. NOATS formed in Hawthorne, NY in 2001 and has toured nationally. The third full-length album, Numbers, was released on NOATS' 10th anniversary. The band's sound is decidedly diverse and can turn from dee dee dwee deedle fwee t'taaah to BWUUUAAAAAGGGHHHH BAKKA BAKKA KABBUDDA SKIPOOOOW pretty quickly. ... more

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Track Name: Numbers
We’re paying for the slaying of women and children and men who dare defend their families from tragedy. We are the problem. What would you do if some army came to your neighborhood and killed your family, raped your city?
Track Name: Invest in Plastic Handcuffs
Body armor, pepper spray, tear gas canisters, security cameras, plastic shields, gas mask helmets and chain link cages.

Tasers, night sticks, concussion grenades, attack dogs, water cannons, rubber bullets, metal bullets and plastic handcuffs.

It's for the best. Protect my interests. Very interesting.

Most people seem convinced it's fine that the world has lost it’s mind, anything for our security. But what they’re hoping to protect with the walls that they erect, not justice or peace but property. And I see it every time I encounter unopened minds, waves of impending futility. But if we just keep to our sect change’s chances will be wrecked and we’ll all live under lock and key.

Power of the masses, Finally we're out in the street, Know the ruling class is, What kept our divisions so deep, Let's revict this broken world, Give the greedy something to fear, Leaderless resistance, and we'll keep it going for years.We could play both sides of this, Think of all those kids in the street, Time Warner sells Guy Fawkes masks, Through a thick veil of irony, So if this is class warfare, then we'll be the war profiteers, Movement ripe for co-option.

Bottled water, signal flares, inflatable life rafts, refugee cots, sandbags, bullet belts, hand grenades, and prefab bunkers.

Break the chains that bind you, We'll just build some more. You’re gonna have to find your mind.
Track Name: (Humans) Being Human (Beings)
Steal my bike and fuck me up. Slash my face and stab my gut. And gouge out my eyes. I’ll still find my way home. Cuz the trains here run all night, and the strangers hope you’re alright. They’re not so mean. They know what it means to be human.

Put a baby inside me. Dry me out ‘till I can’t see. But don’t walk away. Don’t let me be alone. Let me see your other side. Show me that we have not died. Give me the cure. You know that it’s in your nature.
Track Name: Asmaa Mahfouz
Split the silo, and show the center to the renters and the spenders of your own world. Ignore the efforts of your servants to surrender, flexing your sex, and dwarfing legal tender.

Split the citizens. Chop off their hands and let them choose between purple and fuchsia. Present the choices and bury the minutia. Select the voices, the ones that’ll best suit you. Control the past and the present, and you’ll control the future.

It’s like a fucking diamond, cut up by a banshee. For $40 a voter, you can buy a city. You should turn yourself in, but there’s no one to, turn, yourself in to, so you turn yourself into a god because you’re able to, but we start getting critical, you use your private army, this isn’t theoretical, you sent them here to harm me. And the banshee’s screaming, “no returns.”

Lennon wanted to be one of the enlightened, but it wasn’t long before he found out what all of their solutions were about. And he was out/ in if ever he was asked to fight, content to say, “You know it’s gonna be alright.” Well that’s fine for you and me, but what are you gonna tell the refugees?

If your solution’s 1 sentence long, and it starts with “If everyone would just…” You probably shouldn’t even finish your sentence. You should probably go back to the drawing board.

If you’re frustrated because you know you’re right but no one wants to hear you, maybe it’s not what you’re saying, but how, when where and why you’re saying it. Trying to make people look and feel stupid is not the best way to give advice. Trying to make people look and feel stupid is not the best rhetorical device.

We didn’t need a leader, just a call to action, so thank Asmaa Mahfouz for 1-18-11. What better way to make a public address, than through the voices of the public who are under duress? But then there’s barricades on Broadway, all the way to Vessey. Thousands more are on the way, it’s going to get messy. So then the news the next day confirms, dozens to hundreds where arrested zero buildings were burned. And now it’s over to Durbin, South Africa where Anjeli Appaduri gets the last word. She uses it to check the microphone, to remind us what Mandella said. “It always seems impossible until it’s

done.” Silence doesn’t speak as loudly as violence. But the most effective violence we have seen is that which comes directly from police. Arrest one of us and two more will appear. As hard as you try you can’t arrest an idea whose time has come. We’ve just begun. The doorbell’s ringing and it’s just the beginning now.
Track Name: Steve Jobs' Khaki Pants
touching me

your heart is on your sleeve
it leaves a trail for me
a land thats true
where fabric hangs

like flags free from proof

tonic for the heart
is hard to find
when you've lost
a mastermind
when you've lost a love and friend
something comes with a dagger and then
you know the way to my heart
you know the way to my mind
the way to our art is a path
made outside of time

quite a touch
I think you had man
quite a mind
that I was touched with
quite a drive
I think you had and
developing anything
out of space

consciousness later
grass in favor
intelligent flavor
your eyes a savior
taking pleasure
in thoughts for

*"The men's status did not warrant ethical debate. They were subjects, not patients; clinical material, not sick people."

*“For the most part, doctors and civil servants simply did their jobs. Some merely followed orders, others worked for the glory of science.”
Track Name: Democracy Now!
Democracy is just a word. Freedom’s a delusion. Discourse is a farce when all the ones with the solutions are dancing around the cemetery, slicing up their knees against the stones. Free speech feels irrelevant if you can’t buy a large enough megaphone heard by millions world-wide, eyes and ears and hearts and minds.

If you think RNC ’08 was fucked up by an anarchist, throwing a brick through a window of a subway or a starbucks, just ask Nicole Salizar. They threw her camera down and threw her body to the ground. Eyewitness video heard like cattle. Turned blind, eyes and ears and hearts and minds. Oh it’s designed with you in mind. Goodman, Sharif Abdel Kouddous, Salizar, teach the truth.
Track Name: No Fracking Way
Just beneath the surface, there’s something we can sell. How many dollars an acre to drink cancer from your well? Ground water is poison. Flames flow from the tap. Your answer to our dependence is just a stopgap.

Underneath the surface, there’s something that we need. Our thirst for fuel is fueled by our never-ending greed. Fill your coffers with cash. Fill our bodies with death. Your reasoning is lacking, so stop fucking fracking. Let’s stop fracking now.
Track Name: Bill Gates' Dickless Angels
I left the useless parts of me lying in a basket
went out looking for the meat to fill
a chassis hole

Can I score any fingernails toes nose hairs ears taste-buds
particle testicular cervical vesicles O marrow

still a subject to my constant aches & wants
gripping holes with a leaking torso
bowels in a trade for a viscus that should be fed

evacuation I washed her clean, and now she's just vacant
dilated past the point of
value to me

I'll be hunting with the heartless angels
thriving with the hungry angels
I'll be praying with the holiest angels
I'll be loving like a dickless angel

take it out
cut a thin line
trading secret venters
with a starved sight

I'll take anybody home
(wash fingernails)
I'll take anybody home
(wash cervical)
I'll take anybody home
(wash vesicles)

wash marigold - watch myself go

put them out in the sun (I'll be hunting with the heartless angels)
put them out in a heap (I'll be thriving with the hungry angels)
put them in the yard to heat (I'll be praying with the holiest angels)
put it out in the sun
put it out for us to eat
Track Name: Parasite
I’ve become a parasite for the first time in my life. I’m a hostless neophyte using a pellet gun for a light. There’s a mailman in my mind with packages and envelopes to bend. Deliveries are all delayed. Unread overdue library books, the balance grows each day. Never going to be paid.

I’m as broken on the inside as I’m dirty on the outside. I need a guardian angel to fix my lings and scrub my hide, cuz I was trying to be lazy, not a serious thing, but I’ve never been so crazy over anything. All day I stay distracted, try to keep my mind engaged, but my stomach keeps reminding me that I’ve been turned into a slave. And the nights are so much harder cuz they’re so lonely. I wish an angry crowd of people would come and stone me. It’s the proper time of year for a suicide, and when I look into the mirror, I feel like I’ve already died. And I’ll die a non-believer, certain that it’s really the end. Never move or breathe or think or feel again.
Track Name: Beatrice
My friends and I file our nails all the time. I’m an expert in the subtleties of my body. But even if I’m sure my fingernails are all right and I give myself a haircut every night. I’ll never be satisfied or content, cuz I wanna be permanent so I argue with myself, like it’s someone else, but it’s just the 2 of me, sifting through debris.

My heart’s been broken many times, one day it will shatter me, replace it with a Heimlich valve powered by a battery. Make your body permanent and you’ll become anonymous, perfection and permanence are not always synonymous. You can imitate everything that you know.

You can radiate every one that you are. Tattooing and cutting yourself is a step, but I’m past that now I wanna try to go deeper. I burned a blister in the roof of my mouth. I peeled the skin of and replaced it with cellophane.

Power lines and parking fines and daily sanitation all give way occasionally for mayor renovation. I’ll be young forever, how can you be sure of that? I’m not sure of anything but I’m gunna take a stab at it. Moving past your surgery, experimental dentistry, rubber cement for cartilage for wrist ankles elbows and knees. Cosmetics from the hardware store, my body scattered on the floor, mud flaps and ratchet straps, write it off my income tax.

Every time I think I've got it made, something pops in my ankle or my wrist and fluids pour out. I know I've got astray. And I've been told about getting old. And I've learned that the end is the end.