We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Threads from the Youth Fossil

by String Machine

/
  • Streaming + Download

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

      name your price

     

1.
Sandstorm 04:07
“sandstorm” bring home your blankets, i'll hold you through the storm. when the cold city swallows you whole, we'll keep each other warm, and run for the fences before the kids lose their senses, we'll hide from the sandstorm. bring home your stems so we can watch you bloom, i can swim around and be the muse that pollinates you but when we run for the basements, before the skyscrapers cave in, we'll hide from the sandstorm. accompany each other, from within. we grow together we keep each other warm. our stems intertwine the voids between you & i. we grow together, we keep each other warm and nurture these children within us. we'll hide from the sandstorm.
2.
Living Room 05:21
"living room" is shannon curled up on the love seat, crying because all of her youth is gone? she hears the front door unlock, she wipes her eye sockets on the pillow she was crying on. a sip of water washes away her countenance, she muffles her projection, meets me behind door hinges. on the living room wall, i see pictures of sunsets and angels, a framed photo of you crying next to the swing set caught by the branches. her head: what got in it? edith builds hives on the mind, makes youth translucent then sits back and watches how well love shines through it.
3.
“empress” edith, I’ve collected sticks, to break, orchestrate the sound of the child falling from the swingset, caught by the branches on the way down. now she's divine with those graceful strides, those childlike eyes, you heathen you, your darling vessel holds the spirit of the playground heiress but maintains a stature to reach the cereal boxes without a stepping stool.
4.
“panic attack/crestmont” more industry that swallows the bees and coughs out the webs between you and me we’ll pretend we're asleep so we don’t have to go home. that fur coat on the skeleton can leave and go cloth his own. let the kids sit with their four on the floor with the migration of the hive swarming into you and i swarming into you and i and i can hold my breath and see their webs being twined by hands of the left to stimulate the right side of your head. [makes you] swallow your tongue [makes you] wail like you're in hell panicked, seeing lights of red and blue shake from the blinds, they’ve got cameras in streetlights. but if those flashbulbs steal your soul i promise television steals more there's so many places we have never been to before.
5.
"television (fifth or exaggerations i bury in 'skeleton')" why is it every hiss we stomach new years eve frays from the womb rattles from the loom and is plucked by bees? makes me wanna hit a cop makes me wanna pop my head off like sunflowers on the day of their execution after giving birth in the front lawn. makes me wanna hit a [breathe, its okay] makes me wanna pop my head off [breathe, its still okay]
6.
7.
Garden 03:26
“garden” when the fire escape, became the only way we could get away, they burned down our harvest, they can’t keep us hostage. tried to open the window, hinges worn like a newborn widow, they put thorns on the father, made him walk through the garden. can you tell i’ll never say it again? not to you, not to anyone at all. no matter what anyone says you weren't doing your job. you were leaned against the machine and it was making your heart throb while i was in the corner, callused, hoping my heart would stop. that messiah is underground, worms in his head, not making a sound he’s the haitian recluse with his head tied in a noose
8.
Skeleton 02:01
“skeleton” took my exaggerations laid them to rest in the garden of sticks woke up with your windows looking like a zoo exhibit with plastic bags and cigarette ash drifting about like jellyfish we harvested their spines for more time to be free in the ages when our hometown became beach front property yeah, i’m in the cathedral smoke section yeah, i’m in the back with the skeleton
9.
"happy pt. i" your mother hears the bells from the town tranquil hearted and within the exoskeleton she weeps the exoskeleton breaths, gives her TV and the metaphysics we will become. with your vessel in piles and your brain in the bottle you’ll nest within the power lines emancipated from the swallow of the body that materialized around you with you being the tongue, you rattled and became dope sick, somewhere beneath the sun with the dramamine kicking in. you rode the assembly line to being eternal, no physical being to be held, just a fever dream within the bottle if only i could ride a beam of light to an earlier time: yes, i have the money to turn myself into molecular honey yes, i have the confidence that when i’m the sap of the trees, i’ll melt perfectly back into me. the clockwork nurture is messiah; we strove to nurture like so until the snake of industry swallowed us whole and when our carbon is disintegrated within the stomach, the same way our ancestors were buried beneath the willow, our souls will be left to exist in the circuits of the machine: vacant of darwinism. We’ll end our climb and instead unify as a cloud, hovering above the assembly line where the fawns will begin to pray to us.
10.
"happy pt. ii" we’ll gather the strings of our exoskeleton and push to a new airspace where we can exhale, without feeling the guilt of our carbon. maybe johnny is right, perhaps i’m a virus too emancipation for my mind, eternal rest for the basket pouring ourselves into the artificial afterlife. well, there's so many places we have never been to before. there is a selflessness that we can maintain on this earth that is harmonious with our will to survive.
11.
Go To Canada 04:30
i miss those nights i'd be in by nine, & we only smoked on wednesday nights. before the organ tones from the cathedral poked pinholes in the ceiling, we were buzzing from the floorboards and the ceiling fans & we approached the stain glass with our jaws relaxed, singing our blank verses that we held so dear to our dreary hearts. glasses of half drank merlot cauldron of skeleton sketches ripped from notebooks he owns go to canada (& they say) go to canada can we think of ways that we can integrate from within & melt into silver speakers to mash away our sins? & friend I still love you despite the sugar seeping from your head, the psychoactive stimulant that we grew a tolerance to when we were children. [but] i remember chasing you around the playground, my head split and my brain unravelled. we were just little kids with no where to live so we found holes in the ground to inhabit. now the neighbor has lost his dog after falling down the stairs. & he still calls the cops despite us being quiet now just to show he's still there. go to canada can we think of ways that we can integrate from within & melt into silver speakers to mash away our sins?
12.
Finale 05:57
“Finale” oh how we have so many memories the sound and color is beginning to wither away beneath the hive thats wound around my brain, but i can pick at the threads of the fossil and feel you. oh how i feel the swarm plucking at the loom Queen Bee, I hope you see my love shine through the woven threads that cloth my dying youth so i can pick at those threads of the fossil and feel you. but I still feel like that child with my teeth in nature and an eagerness to nurture but i’m still stung on the tongue with your hive hung on the same branch our messiah was. mother, I’m still hiding under the kitchen table from the A-bomb and i’m still that child, barefooted, that you watched in the front lawn when you find different uses for my childhood room, i will pick at the threads of the fossil and feel you.

credits

released December 7, 2016

David Beck - lyrics, vocals, guitar, bass, piano, noise, synth
Nic Temple - drums, producer, vocals
Katie Morrow - cello, string arrangements
Ian Compton - trumpet, producer, vocals
Laurel Renee Wain - vocals
David McCandless - producer, vocals
Angelo Fiaretti - vocals on “go to canada”
Karter Schachner - vocal arrangement and performance on “happy pt. ii”


Recorded in David’s bedroom & Mike Law’s basement
Mixed by Nic Temple, Mike Law, David McCandless
Mastered by David McCandless

Album artwork by David McCandless
www.davidmccandlessphotography.com

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

String Machine Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

String Machine is a maximalist indie rock band from Pittsburgh PA.

contact / help

Contact String Machine

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this album or account

If you like String Machine, you may also like: