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Small Mercies

by An Historic

/
1.
I'll find inner peace at the bottom of bottles and baggies I'll see the truth that they've tried so hard to suppress Nights I can't remember, like I fell asleep with a concussion Examining my fears, and instead of running, I address them. Times like these, when a piece of dust from the city could hit you and break a bone Times like these, when you see the first cracks in a mask that you wear for your own protection Time's a disease, metastasizing and killing you slow So I broke all the clocks and time didn't fuck with me.
2.
I'll find today The corner of the fabric That thin translucent layer That wilts in rising heat I'll peel it back and stare into eternal greyest space and greet it with my grinding teeth The lights are brighter on this field where grass is shimmering and suddenly before my eyes the leaves are glistening I'm holding it, My breath, my soul, my sanity, And please stay in sight of me Nothing I think is right We've had this talk It starts where it ends it's stiff and then it bends before it flutters into night I think it's been a couple of hours Since we've been gone It's kind of hard, on blistered feet, To feel too strong I cross into this slender hall of mirrors Where the architecture blurs and then grows clearer Pillars crumble and the College disappears.
3.
4.
Well I know that I've made it my mission to assist your tired flesh across this snow and through this winter In the cold I've become so adept at addition You can place me in water and watch me grow then see me wither. And the blankets go up across windows and the bottles come down from the shelves and the sunlight has given up on us and I've lost all regard for my health even though I've just I've just seen the fire in your eyes and I've seen the ice all melting I'm alone in a room full of people and these dudes made my friend feel uncomfortable so she left can't say I blame her And they keep on emitting these syllables but tonight I will take all the hot air that I can get even from some strangers And I'm looking ahead to the moment when the stale air escapes from my room and the trees are no longer so jagged and the nights are no longer so doomed even though I've just I've just seen the fire in your eyes and I've seen the ice all melting
5.
Your family's mouths are spitting tiny brimstone pebbles in every panic-struck direction every fresh uncertainty leaves us with no choice but packing up three years of weighted memories in a van with perfect strangers trying to get ahead of the mob I realize that we forgot your mother's bracelet when it became too late to change our ways to be accepted into the kingdom now the clock in the dashboard flies toward me like these endless yellow lines---- A road that carries endless futures down the way a throne inhabited by tyrants, cruelest sentiments we've got to hope my engine will hold til the border so we can prove they don't exist. I want nothing more than to drive this flaming car into the Station where the floodgates hold back People looking for a break But these dogs don’t look too friendly And these cops have assumptions And I’ve got dreams to keep me going, through holding and interrogation But we’re not held too long, we talk real nice And wash our faces with bottled water Keep our stories straight and pass this nervous test As we drive away the mob streams in One thousand bodies crush this barricade.
6.
2012 03:45
I'll be driving for hours on the same southwestern cliff searching for a meteor shower that possible doesn't exist it's late, I've waited so long every one of a thousand stars we can see is burning strong maybe one of those thousand stars that we see will break off and come hurtling toward me Or maybe I'm in a city on top of a warehouse roof the stores are being looted, there's no hope for the youth will you pass that cigarette to me the snow is falling thicker now and I can hardly see whatever happens between now and then I don't want to be alone when the world ends. Black hole swallows our system we could be one with the void or maybe we'll all no longer have the need to be employed I wanna know, I don't want to wait but I'd like a payoff with chaos and carnage Maybe the dream stops, we all wake up and shake it off our context is superior, awareness is aloft we're standing parallel to time your past and my future can try to align I can hardly imagine such a thing but I can't wait to see what it brings. Black hole swallows our system we could be one with the void or maybe we'll all no longer have the need to be employed I wanna know, I don't want to wait but I'd like a payoff with chaos and carnage
7.
Soft As Snow 05:20
Soft as snow, he crushed my hopes with a gesture Intricate, he arranged his fingers' significant poses to simplify my understanding of current events he told me I'd die, if I didn't fall and repent. Dispensing with the myths of our own satisfaction I knew your gift was to cut through that sheet of lies We listened back and heard his voice buried in static He threatened attack, offered no choice Wanted adoration so bad his illusion got sloppy We found the crack, the break in his voice he thought us complacent when we had gone behind the curtain Found an old man, who wanted nothing but omnipotence.
8.
Spending time upset by distances running through your burial ground with a heart tucked into my pouch I'll carry the message from your mouth to her ears oh you know how we perceive time putting one hand against the other on a two-toned face spectacular relapses are the milestone we use to mark the passage of uncomfortable months Anything beyond is inconceivable might as well be space between our planets but some minutes are harder than others through some spell compressing joy, expanding suffering spending time sifting through metaphors making peace with fragments of beliefs I've stitched together, used to weather storms I've stitched together, used to weather storms. _______________________________________ Took a trip with some unknown demon on the Road on the right side of town he said "Doesn't it seem like we could dream our way to new ground?" he said "Doesn't it seem like the same tired old shit about staying here together, chatting about the weather and ignoring the folks that don't fit?" So I followed this demon, his name was Barbatos he told me he could see all time. Then the animals told me he wasn't lying and I thought I was losing my mind So he taught me his power, told me never to use it, then burned a tree trunk just for fun. We crept down a staircase, through a mossy tunnel far down away from the sun. He said "I've seen heaven and the other place I can't wait to see the look upon your face when you realize it's all here on earth. There's no reason I can see for you not to shape your reality. Make your treasure, name its worth." After three days' travel, we made our way to a breathtaking place There were people of all shapes and sizes running wild without disgrace The demon had said that some powerful woman had hidden her treasure marked it with a feather and to find it was to help us to bring about change. We could get what we wanted, fight back when confronted, ignore it if we wanted to. There was nothing you could ever say, and little you could ever sing to be cast to the current through. I tried to thank him for bringing me to this village where I could hide among the corn. He wouldn't hear me, said he grew weary. He had a lot to help us learn. He said "I've seen heaven and the other place I can't wait to see the look upon your face when you realize it's all here on earth. There's no reason I can see for you not to shape your reality. Make your treasure, name its worth."
9.
it's that time of day when the bombs decide to fall in the light from their burst you can see reflections of the city on a crawling slick of oil on the ground day in and day out we repeat this test wait for the volley to end and we can search these spineless buildings for supplies to last another week one morning you declare that you are sick of end of the world routines, it's like having a job we didn't wait this long to be slaves to people we can't see We've got friends on an island somewhere north of here we take the salvaged truck to try and catch a ferry, catch a break and catch a possibility. if the paper was on fire would you still write on it maybe you’d find something a little more permanent we're just a couple of young fools drawing on each other's skin to commemorate the beginning of the end left home, searching round the bend for chapters that are yet to come It's gotta be better than waiting for the bombs. This record began with fragments on your neck An image from before we couldn’t let it go I steadied my hand, washed the dirt from your skin It was a morning two days after I arrived We listened to the radio and it Told us tension troops amassing borders are your nightmares And two strangers embraced in the parking lot that night I think the street was watching through their Windows; hours later, the first bomb exploded. In sterile moments we etched chapters, images Chronology of cataclysmic Moments we had wanted, and now we’re not so sure I think this meditation brings me peace of mind, But that’s another story for another time.
10.
Coffee Mouse 04:56
This puddle of rot makes my feet stick to the floor it's crawling like some urban stream these walls are breeding fruitflies and roaches there's gotta be a nest somewhere behind the seams this stench is buried somewhere beneath these boards and plastic keeps the poison on the other side so many have tried to stay awake for the score but after twenty hours feel like they could die the Mouse will make some coffee for us to drink The upside of the death of the atmosphere it's been awhile since we've seen ice or snow A Nuclear winter's not really a winter there's poison on the wind but no cold can blow The Mouse is grinding coffee between its teeth it's grown six feet or more since the bombs first hit we haven't had power since the end of the war the Mouse tolerates us, we can't live without it The Mouse will grind our coffee this morning. Wake up house, Wake up house you're cruising Come outside, scavenge for our choosing. Find a stash of coffee and come home and celebrate. In twenty years or so when we can breathe the air when the clouds first part and the trees are blush we'll rebuild this house on the limbs of the trees with mycelial fields, we'll see fields grow lush there are animals in curious poses there are cities buried deep into the earth there are great graveyards brimming with memories and we'll remember what it was worth the Mouse will find some coffee for us to cultivate Wake up house, nothing left to war with. come outside, we will create your myth We had better tell it right this time.

about

Here is a collection of songs that has taken entirely too long to get into the world, and yet I'm grateful that it exists in the world at all. That's the nature of the title, attempting to meditate on the things that have gone right in the midst of some fierce storms of wrong. These tunes were all written between December of 2009 and the autumn of 2011, although in almost all cases they have taken various shapes as I've recorded them various times, performed them solo, and eventually called collaborators that were willing and able to play these tunes with me. In many cases, they continue to evolve as I perform them today. But this recording, done along with its sister album, "Songs of Mirth and Sorrow" by Dr. Caterwaul's Cadre of Clairvoyant Claptraps, was cut all with live takes in an intense three-day session, and the levels of focus (and exhaustion) we reached together in those three days comes across, threading each song on this album together with an edge that was beyond what I had originally imagined.

credits

released August 24, 2013

Adam Matlock - Accordion, Voice
with
Nathan Bontrager - Cello, Voice
Michael Paolucci - Percussion
Brian Slattery - Fiddle, Banjo, Voice
Carl Testa - Bass

Recorded by Doug Slawin, Satellite Sounds, at St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Milford, CT. Mixed and Mastered by Joe DeJarnette. Album art by Alex Krokus. All songs by Adam Matlock, except 3 - Public Domain.

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An Historic New Haven

The home for the music of Adam Matlock, his songwriting alias An Historic, and his electronic project GZARA (fka G. Zarapanecko).

All music composed by Adam Matlock unless otherwise indicated. For all related projects, visit adammatlock.bandcamp.com

Contact: mystaltree@gmail.com
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