B-Side Guys

Lucas Newhall is a blind/visually impaired Berkeley songwriter who left California law practice to become a stay-at-home dad, and “Rubble In Rebel Out” sounds like someone who spent years reading legal briefs about US foreign policy finally snapping. The song treats war as simple cause and effect—”If your input’s only violence / What the hell do you think comes out”—which his mother apparently called “the best anti-war song of the decade.” The production, handled by Matt Anderson at Mill Sounds Studio in Arkansas, pairs Newhall’s vulnerable delivery with melodic hooks that make lines like “Unless you live in Palestine” hit harder than they should on paper. It’s the lead single from his introductory EP Chop, released because he “just couldn’t fucking take it” anymore.

The Meaning Behind “Rubble In Rebel Out”

Newhall opens with maternal wisdom: “Son, you know they will confuse / Their actions and the expectations / The blowback for the abuse.” The song’s entire framework hinges on what he calls “the violent law of symmetry,” treating empire as mathematical equation rather than moral debate. “They love to call those people terrorists / Won’t show their bodies on the news / Might clutch some pearls for executions / But will never say who built the noose” dismantles the language of US military intervention with prosecutorial precision. The repetition of “rubble in, rebel out” functions like legal precedent—establishing pattern, demonstrating consistency across cases from “the Irish to Iraqis / No one likes when you invade.”

The 9/11 reference—”I remember when / That lightning came / Those towers fell / We played our games”—connects personal memory to generational pattern. Newhall treats the War on Terror not as aberration but continuation, which explains the hamster wheel metaphor: “We’ve been running on the hamster wheel / Long before it had a name.” The song’s darkest moment comes in the bridge: “I’m afraid my love with math like this / None of us here will be saved.” For someone trained in law, that reads less like despair and more like verdict. Another Kingdom documents what happens when the person who studied the system concludes it’s functioning exactly as designed.