Embracing Teeth at the Museum of Lost Time

by Notta Comet

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1.
00:52
2.
3.
02:47
4.
5.
02:45
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.

about

Written and recorded summer 2012 in New Jersey and Montreal by Alex Williams. Last album before the band filled out w/everyone else.

credits

released August 20, 2012

All instruments/most vocals - Alex Williams
Vocals on A Pretty Girl and the Dyatalov Pass - Sarah Brunning
Actual owner of the saxophone used on tracks 1 and 2 - Claire Guimond

Shoutout Facebook Skype, the used book store near my house, rt. 526, the wall that Ali painted, past lives, my parents, my cats, my brother, my soldering iron, peanut butter, The Buzzcocks and Jimmy Morcaldi, to say nothing of Sarah, Kate, Tim, Tim, Matt and Arnold.

tags

tags: rock Montréal

license

all rights reserved

about

Notta Comet Montréal, Québec

we play bike rock
we play scientist rock
we play with rocks

contact / help

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Track Name: Untitled 3
I understand that what I saw was not the reality on the ground. I picked up a few objects and thought I could put them together so I could tell the kids at home that everything has a place it wants to be. But for six days, you were the same pieces of clanging machinery that never coalesced into a view of a stormy city. When I stood and asked what it is to hold, you looked through me and slowly crushed a fruit in your hand until i fell back into the couch. I have learned the dangers of the abstract, and given credit to the broken equation that produces all that I am. Sharpness is fleeting, and I have come to see that it is only pretty as a prelude to softness.
Track Name: The Country is a Close Alone
I shorted the mains today, and yesterday i biked to a place that i didn't know
but i still came home the same

"I thought i'd learned from my mistakes, I thought you'd given me the right advice"
and there was a three-week period where I didn't try to impress you

I read some poems a girl i don't know very well wrote about me
or a stanza of one poem, rather

I knew a long time ago the world was based on an equation
but we could never see what was on the other side of the wall

And I don't know why i love the size in silence
it's never helped me

and though I didn't say it, "I will create myself in public"
because those are the best lines about warmth i ever read

and each year i build on top of the one that came before it
something like years would build

to explain why he could never have the girl of his dreams when he wanted her
but could have her any time she didn't

you told me to read a biography of chopin
but I spent the time i would have been doing that reading schematics for things i never built

It's funny that you're one of the things i've never managed to fail with
with fire.
Track Name: Post-
There are only two places i would fight for, and one is the nation of days. Efficiency denies expediency and electricity is a form of trust. You're living a formal construing, but you have never given truth to clouds. the tiny lights below tell of twelve weeks of ending. The thought of jumping out of a plane almost makes the ride less scary. Once you've started fighting for breath, it's hard to stop. There is no quiet way to say i want to be quiet around you.

"Is this where you wanted to end up?" her teeth glistened to match the chrome-plated refrigerator. "You're here," she said and stared into me. The hardwood ran its course in deep cherry from where I stood to massive windows that looked over the tinges that were below them. It rained and cars drove through puddles, but that couldn't be heard. Every gleaming light fixture took the feeling of warmth from the room. There was no evidence of the plants or power that built this space, and i looked back at her. "Yes, we've found our home in a moment," I said after the silence had hung too long. I moved back to touch her arm and she stepped back. She opened the fridge, found nothing and flopped down on the only white couch. As i sat next to her, she disappeared and I had no recollection of coming in. The storm thundered quietly, moved on, and I never spoke again.
Track Name: House of Leaves, Mark Z. Danielewski
House of Leaves, Mark Z. Danielewski, somewhere towards the middle, early 2000s, full-color edition, my third copy (gone now).
Track Name: A Portrait
The room i keep for my thoughts of you could fit a scale model of the hindenberg. fortune swapped our protons for electrons as an eager first-time for-exer but i don't think that he can claim "i know not what i do" yet. though 'rational self-interest' dies a thousand well-deserved deaths a day, the rate was right to pour water onto a set of five days that multiply and multiply.

I will sleep while standing for summer weeks but return with more than our socks and extension cords. I can say that i don't believe in love at first sight, but still i know a good idea when i see one. If i keep letting you smoke in my bed, you could

wait
Track Name: I Begin Again
And I am glad to say that i have passed the sell-by date for yellowing remembrances of trackmarks past and childhood smoke machines in uninfected bedrooms

I've never lit a fire i didn't fear and any return trip will have a time for trial and a time for arson, i wasn't born a gambling man

and I know you don't believe that ignorance is bliss because you're not here dying from self-inflicted head wounds

but if it wasn't for all of you down there i'd've never known that nothing stops a one man tower of babel

I had a word with the poet laureate of shittalkers
said that 8 in cash is worth 10 on the books
and if anyone else can kick it with austerity
we should all end up dying from anaphylactic shock
Track Name: The "Real" The "Sublime"
"I don't know, you're real now"
to hear this i reached out and found
that only in the dark does touch have no opposite

I tap the ground six times
to match your ending syllables
and live in unearned rhythm
Track Name: A Pretty Girl and the Dyatlov Pass
~Sarah talking~

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dyatlov_Pass
Track Name: List of Famous Unexplained Sounds
My first language was shorthand,
the voice on the other line told me to find

a friend, and i asked for how long
it had been recording rain.

Coughing, I could tell the mist
from the fog and shrank back

from the nighttrees
playing at Goya.

But never did i slip,
and never did i fall.

I am doing calculus now, without the arms
that i left wrapped in your country, in my country.
Track Name: Autonomous Urges
automate yr disappointment
arms first, like wicker baskets
I tried to follow your voice back home
I thought i'd met the ocean