Flying At Tree​-​Level (or the Socioeconomic Impications of the Song 'Panama' by Van Halen)

by Grammerhorn Wren

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Recorded during the summer of 2014 at Matt's house and Thread Arts Collective, both in Easthampton, MA


released October 9, 2014

Eric Trabucco- guitar/vocals
Matthew Baumes- drums/vocals
Georgie Delgado- guitar/vocals
Eirinn Gragson- bass/vocals

Andrew "Andy-Boy" Atkin- recording/mixing/engineering



all rights reserved


Grammerhorn Wren Northampton, Massachusetts

Eric Trabucco

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Track Name: Home Alone
And in time, when you run away, no one will follow you and that's fine if you like solitude.
And in time, when you isolate, no one will pry their way inside of your fortress walls.
Okay, oh well, whatever, I'm better off alone.
I feel at home.
And in time, when you've been gone awhile, who will remember you in conversation?
Track Name: Pet Narc(issist)
I can't get this idea out of my head: "me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me"
So don't pretend that I care and I won't pretend that you're there, forever your pet narcissist.
Track Name: Subtle Devil
These signals I'm casting out are scrutinized and picked over for doubt.
In a moment of weakness, they're slowly tossed out.
Where do I stand?
Realizing inertia creeps, a massive attack it seems, as I stubble to piece all of my jigsawed seams.
Nowhere to go, withdrawn in, resolving to close my eyelids, I feel uncomfortable in my own skin.
Track Name: Swearword Spelling Bee
Has culture become a commodity in our society every time that I hear the sound of our new slogan: SUXMYDIXXX?
Do you find the deconstruction of a language prescribed Orwellian in the slightest bit?
"Oh well" says I.
We're the new authors of nothing new.
Track Name: Petrified Cigarettes
Thirty-six little bits of a black particulate sit in my eyes and throat.
They're just remaining pieces of the record exploded on my gramophone.
Oh well, I'll get high and have dreams.
Track Name: Parade of Fools
We talk (drunk) in the backyard
We talk each other to infinity.
I pretend that we are the philosopher kings.
Maybe tomorrow we'll awaken sick and dizzy anyway.
Track Name: Vertigo-Inducing Swing Radius
Differentiated ends and beginnings further from one another separating,
I feel the weight of each pole, and the nauseating gravitational pull from side to side,
Descends to earth, bipolar boy, to fuck it up.
You won't know that he sits on your shoulders until your head gets stuck.
I'm subterranean and burning while soaring towards the heavens and hoping that with time a clearer head will put the screaming baby to bed.
It's time to calm down, you've been awake for long.
Let's rest your weary head.
Track Name: 24-Hour Bouncehouse
When you were just five years old, you had your whole life story told,
wired into your systems in a sea of dorsal thumbs.
Admire the way you look alive.
Maintain the energy hive, and when your software's up to date, you'll buy yourself a Coffeemate.
You're rock and roll, meandering away.
Now your ducks are in a row.
You've exacted your nirvana's flow.
You're seeing clearly, contrast hard.
You're moving fast going real far.
Track Name: My Brother, The Car
When you can home on the first night, I watched Saturday Night Live.
Adam Sandler was on the Denise Show.
In the following years I wondered who you would become, but I never thought you'd gravitate towards cars.
The tonality of horns, your youthful ears, the did adorn.
Your obsession was taking shape,
and by your quick coming of age you were apt and they were your page.
Amongst the machines you'd earned your place.
You, you always do, you find a way.