1. |
Flash Flood
04:19
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when you need it

will you come pounding on my door

three in the morning

walking around in the snow

catching pneumonia 

singing Sinatra to yourself

it don’t surprise me now and hell if anything ever will


nothing prepares you

for a flash flood in december 

nothing prepared me 
for singing truth without the filter 

I was standing
taller than the blue ridge mountains high 

when it caught my feet and swept me underneath


if i'm good enough 
if i'm good enough 
if i'm good enough 

i'll die before I rust


if i'm good enough 
if i'm good enough 
if i'm good enough 

i'll die before I rust

if i'm good enough 
if i'm good enough 
if i'm good enough

the heavens will open up


if i'm good enough 
if i'm good enough 
if i'm good enough

they'll remember my name when I go missing in the flood


…


Laura blow out your candle

i’ve seen your face in empty streets

abandoned homes, shattered glass,

rustling leaves.


Laura blow out your candle 

your dim lit shadow follows me

to every city, down every alley

put out the fire and go to sleep. 

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2. |
Blood-Brain Barrier
01:06
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Out of the rainy streets

slithering up the curb and crouching

subway cars,
 smokey bars

I'lI wait around to meet you


Now that I have it I know it's not what I had wanted

but I cant shake it off it follows me

I’ve become nothing

nothing 
nothing 
nothing 

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3. |
The Title Track
04:13
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Mata wasn’t pretty and she knew it well

she didn't leave home before the city slept

and out of the storm drain she crawled like a slug

keeping her anxieties and Ativan with her

when I came along you were lying in the gutter

struck by a car, convulsing in a puddle of your blood
and every week that summer lasts
And every month that summer softens
And every year that summer comes again,
but I haven’t set foot through that doorway or heard your voice
(Mata mata)
But I am still singing in the breezeway every night
And I am sitting on the edge your bed, singing "mata mata
mata mata"
Sing out a tune and I’ll hum along
Whisper a secret and I will listen

Sing out a tune and I’ll hum along
Ask me to leave and
...
Ugly boy in storefront window

Bicycle shop and one bright orange cone

Lancaster was a lonely waitress 
who kept talking and wouldn’t let us
leave me alone I don't need you scrutinizing me down to the amount of sugar packets in my tea
Hold you under the faucet until your face is gargling blue and green: 
one eye becomes truth, the other eye God.
mating cry of an exotic bird*
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4. |
Monkey Beating A Bucket
02:07
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ima busted get my hed all out o tune my ear ring n ring an ring till im always up till noon up till noon till noo-oo-oo-oon
I ams a brokn drumm a monkee beating a buck-ket I song mata mata ugly like mata mata im always up till noon up till noon till noon hoo hoo hoo ya ta ta ta
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5. |
So Am I
04:02
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6. |
House On Fire
05:49
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we were walking, softly talking
belmont and thirteenthÂ
as the jets punched out a beating drum
shook the earth and killed the silenceÂ
couples ran down driveways in surprise
children cried, animals howled, sirens screamedÂ
black smoke billowing thick and salacious
from the cracks in your teeth
chewing rags and spitting back into
a panicked camera crew and through
the grainy screens of a million streets---
where a canyon forms
and rips apart the young and old of every colorÂ
we never became who we wanted to be when we were youngerÂ
sucked into 
a jet and spewed back out into
circumstances out of our control and realization
eyes are closed, head held low, 
an innocent man walks death row
we are close types
we are style scopes
living inside a burning homeÂ
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7. |
I Wanna Cut You Open
03:26
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8. |
Lengthy Instrumental
03:52
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9. |
Bethel
05:18
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I am a red fleshy newborn
in a room of strangers I can't identify,
held by the arms of a mannequin,
a woman from the window of a bus at 2am.
I am a loud pesky child.
You are the black beaded bracelet on my wrist that
draws cathedrals, castles and tundra domes
but won't pay attention in class or roll out the garbage
for the man with the hat in a white Cadillac.
I am a wrinkled leather seat.
You are ashes, glasses, an empty mattress-
abandoned home in the trailer park
growing weeds and wishing it was never conceived.
I won't be at your bedside,
I won't climb onto your sinking ship,
but I will be the cardinal
perched in the dogwood as traffic passes,

and passes and passes but never stops to hear you

Play your pitiful violin 
into the ocean swallows you.
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Telyscopes Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
"Since 2012, Telyscopes has molted through one reinvention after another--shedding layers of lo-fi psychedelia, chamber pop,
jazz, and electronica like cocoons as the project grows more legs, prettier wings, or sharper mandibles. The lifeblood remains the same: offbeat lyrics and striking melodies. Often ingenious--never typical."
-The All Scene Eye
... more
Telyscopes recommends:
Eerie, Haunting, Beautiful sounds from across the Atlantic.
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