Get all 13 The Asthmatic releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Static, Birds Can Whistle, Low In The Ground, All The Animals And Their Train, Strange Tongues, G.R.I.D.Z., Tension, Showboat, and 5 more.
1. |
I Hate That I Miss You
18:34
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2. |
Trip
05:22
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3. |
Another Way Out
05:12
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4. |
Grab Hold Of Me
03:54
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5. |
Or So I Thought
01:18
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6. |
Night Time
05:48
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7. |
The Night Chills
02:27
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When your dreams have stopped and frozen with the night chills
Rain’s pinpricks weighing the thought and story down
Staining the bed, becoming a stain
Rings crosses the sheet to the neck
Watches the night
The moon has rotated round
It’s curves cratered, lipping into edges
Count them
Trickle your gaze down into your eyes
Hold it tight
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8. |
Squeals Of Joy
03:47
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9. |
The Days Roll By
05:19
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10. |
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11. |
Voyeur
02:10
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Given the circumstances, I find it hard to believe that I'm happy
I am a voyeur
Every crack in the shades is an
Ornament driven, ornament laden brown box
And the shadows it's cultivated
Are moving through the windows
At third-rate, full start speeds
Bending windows outwards, stairs
Closer, Ribbed bullets
Metal bars
Feedback into electric frenzy
I am a voyeur
Given the circumstances, I find it hard to believe I'm happy
My impact statement
At my leisure
Says the following:
I have X and Y to do
Leave me to it
And let it sink in
My impact statement
At my leisure
Says the following:
I have X and Y to do
Leave me to it
And let it sink in
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12. |
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She wrecks it
She necks it
Reflect and bend it
Down hallways
Past dealers of mags and rock
But she chucks her eyes forward into the stateroom
And out comes a hand, clenching them in fist
And all she can feel now is a sweat and a quiver
Down the middle of her legs
An insatiable appetite thrown up from the blood
She lies tired on the floor, as she hadn’t acted
She had retracted, held it all in
To bubble the skin and rims of the nostrils, the eyes
The nail clipping tin
Forcing back in their places, the tacks
That fell from the tips, to only crawl back
Like Legos caught under toes, she’ll reel and throw back
To look at the tacks
But really, it lasts seconds, mere seconds
Rim lined impressions on satin and silk
The skin wears the same patterns, so this stomach starts to swim
Again comes the loop, scary circle
Again comes the shadow, shiny and minuscule
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13. |
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She wrecks it
She necks it
Reflect and bend it
Down hallways
Past dealers of mags and rock
But she chucks her eyes forward into the stateroom
And out comes a hand, clenching them in fist
And all she can feel now is a sweat and a quiver
Down the middle of her legs
An insatiable appetite thrown up from the blood
She lies tired on the floor, as she hadn’t acted
She had retracted, held it all in
To bubble the skin and rims of the nostrils, the eyes
The nail clipping tin
Forcing back in their places, the tacks
That fell from the tips, to only crawl back
Like Legos caught under toes, she’ll reel and throw back
To look at the tacks
But really, it lasts seconds, mere seconds
Rim lined impressions on satin and silk
The skin wears the same patterns, so this stomach starts to swim
Again comes the loop, scary circle
Again comes the shadow, shiny and minuscule
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14. |
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All the time wondering how to make the sounds
That come out of a foreign mouth
Sign and complete the back
I drown them out with dulcet tones, strange spiritual incantations
As repetitive as Jelinek, Poe, maybe Carroll
Strange, enormous strings coming at me from tinny speakers
There are no further delays or disruptions
This is music for people who can’t fall asleep
Locked away in a room close to the street
The bend of a phrase is telling
I’m writing horror crunched in
Falling into the horn section
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15. |
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All the time wondering how to make the sounds
That come out of a foreign mouth
Sign and complete the back
I drown them out with dulcet tones, strange spiritual incantations
As repetitive as Jelinek, Poe, maybe Carroll
Strange, enormous strings coming at me from tinny speakers
There are no further delays or disruptions
This is music for people who can’t fall asleep
Locked away in a room close to the street
The bend of a phrase is telling
I’m writing horror crunched in
Falling into the horn section
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16. |
Pressure
01:20
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The Asthmatic Westbrook, Maine
Avant-garde collage pieces with old-time (y) vocals.
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