Recorded at Eight16 Studios in Toms River and Bayville, NJ
Produced and Engineered by Pat Noon
Co-Produced by John Muccino and Michael Costaney
Mastered by Alan Douches at West West Side Music in New Windsor, NY
must have played this chord at least a thousand times now. waiting, patient, thinking it would bring me somewhere. still im sitting, wishing there was something more to say. here goes. a nervous, scribbling spider here has kept me company. our early sketches quietly evolve in chaos, back and forth, until a breeze commands our course to change. then back. we race our slack. im looking at a life of pulling teeth from nowhere, hurling all my baggage at defenseless notebooks, and left with only vices, friends, and puzzles to keep me sane for now i wait the crowd to face to face to twenty years and all ive learned is how to listen. and i still dont do it half the time i think i ought to. we all just talk too much. everyone thinks theyve got it figured out. well you dont. you cant. youre blind and im tired. so stop. slow down.
Track Name: His Colder Side
"there's gravity in your sentences, calamity in my home" he says with a sigh, swimming at night. "my hand is under my pillow, clutching a memory of your breath" she says with a sigh, the colder side. he cant sleep without writing her name on his eyelids. she cant wake up without tasting his name in her coffee. its hardly healthy. "im me, its a pleasure to meet you, who are your friends? why don't they speak?" he said with his eyes, sharing his light. "-----" she said with her eyes into his colder side. he cant sleep without wondering why he started smoking. she cant wake up without wondering where all those friends went. and what gave europe the chance to try kissing north africa? nothing makes sense. nothing but something they miss. "its with no pleasure im off to leave again, so keep me where you can see" he says with no time, and more on his mind. "ill keep you where i grow poetry, the garden where all of my angles struggle to sleep" its a secret she keeps. and he will sleep on floors in ohio and tennessee. she will wake up with her mind on the walk down to market street. he will meet enough people to swallow a century. but she will be the south and the west and the north-east of his colder side.
Track Name: The Age of Missing Information
get the fuck off the phone and look me in the eye. you cant once you die. i could give a shit less about the people you text, i mean the phones that your phone is familiar with. but your rudeness aside, can you even describe what its like to live lacking these lifeless devices that undermine all that it means to be ably alive? not even i can. make a real fucking friend, one you never requested and you don't stuff in a drawer on the internet. your whole virtual life you are homeless and blind while the real world flies hurriedly by. but you're rushing for all the wrong reasons. we refuse to slow down for the night or the seasons. yeah, cause we got light bulbs, central heat, and 3d tvs! and i need some room to breathe. who says progress is flawless with the problems its brought us? it cheapens the conscience. we poured all of our hope into economic growth, our hands round the throat of this place we call home. look at a forest, thriving and gorgeous, a beautiful, balanced assortment of life without words such as "progress" no concept of "more." we'll keep chasing tomorrow, with no thought to the sorrow we sow in the bottomless depths of our pockets. we'll blindly devour, huddled close like cowards, while some cultivate peace from a box full of flowers. well i never feel true unless im looking to leave or im looking at you. and you're feeling it too, because the few things you love and that make you feel human, none of them have batteries.