‘Dissimulated; Decorticated’ Individual Song Breakdowns ____________________________________________________________ Individual Song Breakdowns “Deus Absconditus” (drum transcription, percussion overdub transcription) This record could’ve begun a myriad of various ways, but nothing felt as impactful as that intro, rending silence with the recurring, chaotic ‘tag.’ Coincidentally, this tune was the first I struck out to write, initiated on 15SEP23. I had heard four or five songs from The Faceless in the past, and I suppose it’s fair to say that this encapsulates my endeavor of combining those sensibilities with my love of Opeth’s Blackwater Park, filtered through my own idiosyncrasies and limitations. I had heard that Faceless material so long ago, it's perhaps more accurate to say that I was drawing upon the residue of said listening experience. I prepared for vocal tracking several months in advance, shedding an average of five days a week, two hours per practice session. I think this was the first one in the can. The choruses are doubled, but I surpassed my expectations with the verse/A section; especially on the line “silence is in the hope of liquefying”—no overdubs there, just an additional harmonic drawn out via the ‘tunnel scream’ (gotta love how silly some of the nomenclature is, a shared quality with drumming, haha). The table-organ chord progression and the synth solos in both bridges were written on the spot during mixing/production. The synth-y zaps at 4:34 and 4:44 are weight plates crashing to the ground, highly processed. Then, in the second pre-chorus (4:49), there’s a quirky assemblage of clips to pad out the sound design, including: dry leaves crunching; noises with my mouth; a field recording from a restaurant; backwards screams; and glass bottles clanking together, which I also used in “Jacklegs Bark” from The Soundtrack of Nonexistence. Lyrically, this was inspired by a bit from a poem that Henry Rollins authored; it was included in Sic. Original prose: I’m on a train, hurtling through an inky landscape. The inside of the train is every bit as pitch-black. The silent conductor disregards me in his state of indifference. I have a bad habit of staring into the sun, in the hope of liquefying the horror my eyes have seen. The angels are in slumber, don’t ask me how I know. Silence is the fucking best. Father Time stands not in solidarity with Mother Nature; she dictates. I know only of the cold embrace of the train and the bold din that it creates. Lavish us with bruises. Lyrics: Staring into the sun The horror is in slumber The inside of pitch-black Time disregards me in a state of indifference Silence is in the hope of liquefying The angels are fucking Nature stands not in solidarity with us Silent conductor, I’m hurtling through the cold On a train, the inky landscape of bold Father creates, embrace the din of his habit Mother dictates, every bit as lavish I know only of bruises The bad eyes have seen The train, the train And know it best, don’t ask Have I? How? An I with that she, my, me Silent conductor, I’m hurtling through the cold On a train, the inky landscape of bold Father creates, embrace the din of his habit Mother dictates, every bit as lavish “Charivari” I had always wanted to sequence the record with the ‘track->soundscape->rinse&repeat’ structure. Although, I realized pretty early on that ending with “(There’s No) Elephant in the Room” could be mightier than a fifth and final soundscape. As I shaped up the mixes for each of the main tunes, I’d send them off to session guitarist Nico and my dear pal Gabriel Riccio for vetting and critique. Once all five were completed, I started on the soundscapes. As touched on in ‘About the Record,’ each soundscape is composed strictly from elements respective to each preceding song (track 2 is made from track 1’s components, track 4 from 3’s, et al): Reconstitution Composition! It all started on New Year’s Day of 2025, and I managed to get all four in passable form in eight days. Again, nothing new was recorded for any of these - my own self-imposed constraint, and a form of experimental composition that I’ve joyfully engaged with over the last few years. I had an inkling of the general ‘vibe’ or aesthetic that I wanted to capture: two electro/beat-oriented pieces, and two ambient ones. Constructing songs in this manner can really stretch the mind and impel you to modify things to the nth degree. The amount of instances in which I time-stretched, reversed, or pitch-shifted audio… Ironically, the weight plate PINGS that I mentioned above are probably less processed here. “(Hands) Creating Sipes” (drum transcription) My band, Darkest Hour, played the 2023 New England Metal and Hardcore Festival. At the end of the night, I got to my hotel room and immediately wrote the drum part entirely. I was again enthralled by a certain aesthetic, attempting to reproduce the frenetic energy inherent in early Dillinger Escape Plan material. I can’t recall the last time I had built a song from a drum part. The drum ideas for each section flowed through me in a stream-of-consciousness manner. I wrote the theremin outro during mixing/production: an actual, composed and arranged part, rather than done on-the-fly. Though, I did feel slightly bolstered, having already tackled that concept twice on Elsewhere in the Nowhere. It still took me hours to track! Even filtered through the cut-up, the carnal nature of the lyrics is manifest. Original prose: We were desperadoes, sybaritic in our igneous, umbilical nights. Readily, repeatedly, hands creating sipes on your backside. We consume each other, restive and bedizened with sweat. Entangled tendrils between sheets. Swallow you whole. Spread my sylvan goddess upon the sward and sate my esurience. Such largesse we proffered. I was the coxcomb, locked in my tomb. Who could have known what we had? Irremediable shame. My benthic brain is reduced to pap. Must rusticate. On it blooms. Lyrics: I was the tendrils between sheets We proffered with sweat entangled Swallow you whole, readily, repeatedly Spread your backside, my sylvan goddess We were restive desperadoes Spread your backside, my sylvan goddess Bedizened, locked on each other Upon in, in our sybaritic largesse We sate my coxcomb, and my sward and such We have known to rusticate Reduced my irremediable brain We have known to rusticate Reduced my irremediable brain Benthic is who must had Shame, what pap Pap Umbilical nights Hands creating sipes Esurience, consume Igneous, the tomb On it blooms “Stelliferous” The sound effect that closes ‘(Hands)’ and opens this one is a bit of looped ambience from a pretty vociferous fridge that I voice-memo-ed on tour. Gotta love those backstage amenities. At 4:05, an incredibly processed guitar enters. It sounds like an alien language. The mounting chaos starting around 6:00 is a master-channel effect, slowly automating in potency until it mockingly drops off in the last few seconds, only to again crescendo with the aid of reversed-audio cymbals. It amuses me that an ethereal, delicate track could come from such audial evisceration! “Nihil Dicit” (drum transcription) Akin to a portion of my intent for “Deus Absconditus,” this was partly a result of having heard a handful of Black Dahlia Murder tunes in the van while on tour. It stays largely in harmonic minor, changing keys per section. The first appearance of—and my first time engineering—my piano is presented here. Perhaps I shouldn’t have credited myself with playing it, as so much of it’s ‘sample-programmed,’ the bridge being no exception. At 0:36, a looping sound clip appears: a somewhat treated, foreign bird call that I voice-memo-ed when in Medellín to play a gig. It reappears towards the end. There’s also some feedback from a hot mic and quasi-Tuvan vocal drones at 1:30. Shout-out to John Henry for his dynamite performance! As predicted, the cut-up randomized the lyrics, but there wasn’t as much of a framework to perhaps infer the original lines, or at least interpret them intelligibly. The original piece was already quite strange and prose-like, rendering them even weirder and more abstruse. This outcome affected my choice of title. Original prose: We recover from American videos wherein they state the same things. Least bilge. Our reptilian regression back into the polluted sea. Bet I was there when the acid-blue corridor dissolved into a chalky paste, solomon. Your fears allay you, succumbing to their desires. My gilded fears strengthen me, drawing off the poison elements. I shall roll the taste of fear around my tongue, smacking my imbricating lips at my bravery. A man with hollowed-out eyes bellows, chants stentorian and it echoes throughout the chamber. And we leer at the convolved remainder. Our hips are stuck in place. Pressure. Chew. Turn of phrase. Lyrics: When my fears strengthen my tongue Smacking into chalky echoes throughout the acid-blue corridor Our reptilian American bellows stentorian Roll the paste, taste your fears Recover from the poison wherein we leer Polluted chamber My dissolved lips The sea chants their remainder Our convolved hips Fear, bravery Eyes, regression Succumbing to allay me Hollowed Drawing desires into videos You are stuck in place And out the back, I was there A man of the same state Fear, bravery Eyes, regression Succumbing to elements Pressure The things they turn around Off with my phrase And of imbricating bilge, we shall chew it At least I bet to a gilded solomon Polluted chamber My dissolved lips The sea chants their remainder “(Conduce) Ossification” I wanted to generate an upbeat, more drum and bass-y groove, while retaining the caliginous undertones. The low-pitched, timpani-like sound is sourced from yet another voice memo taken on tour: I was rehearsing in a concrete corridor with a staircase, and smacking my practice pad yielded an incredibly robust THWACK because of the natural reverb. Pitch it down, add even more ‘verb and voilà. This sound was used singularly in ’Nihil’ to announce John Henry’s arrival (the end of the big fill-in, coinciding with the snare+china stab at 1:49). The looping sound effect at the end is the spoken part during the bridge, processed per se, while Unfiltered Audio’s Needlepoint provides the record-player-esque saturation on the master channel. The title alludes to the sudden halt at 3:20. “Anamnesis” (drum transcription, percussion overdub transcription) Both the epic and the wild card of the album, featuring an array of instrumentation, several dynamic arcs, the most singing, an improvised drum solo in 15, and two outros. I had originally planned for two guitar solos to occur—the first where Mr. Keneally’s transpires, and the other over the first outro (before the calm, ‘real’ outro)—but opted to hire Ben Vize to blow some sax instead. He sent me three takes and I comped ‘em. I managed to get Keneally on board via my friendship/association with Carl King (thanks, man!); perhaps my “Egg Zooming” cover/interpretation also helped grease the wheels, hehe. Hearing my sensibilities collide with his own nudged our exchange into hyper-surreality, wow - what a beautifully bizarre din we create! That harmonic flutter thing that segues back into my vocal gets me every time. As with John Henry, I had Tomas Perez in mind for his part when I wrote it. He did such a great job with “Parvenu” (Silly String III) that I wanted to offer up a more sizable role. I also took a screaming-focused lesson with him online before I began tracking vocals in July 2024. He crushed it, par for the course. There are some oddball/dissonant vocal harmonies just before the drum solo, and I actually played the chords on the piano at 6:43 - 7:18, as well as the part under the sax solo. It took me a while to find an appropriate blending/balance between roasting the first outro in distortion and producing a ‘dreamy’ effect within the second. Distilled down, lyric-wise, this is about abandonment. The vulnerable nature further distinguishes this one from the others. It’s based on a traumatic early childhood memory, something that occurred when I was still in day care. I seem to recall highly specific things, but memory isn't infallible—and this is quite an ancient recollection—so I wrote about some of the specific details as well as my basic lasting feeling/impression of the event. Although jostled and squeezed through the cut-up process, the story was going to come out one way or another. Original prose: It was a gray, enervated morning. As always, I was deposited at my skein, the place home to some of my earliest memories. Today was to be anomalous, with a promise of being bussed to a new, stimulating location. The other children were shepherded outside. They all went outside. They made it outside to the bus, everyone except for me. I was consuming my breakfast, and when I looked up I found myself alone. It was upsetting and confusing, and not one adult in a roomful came to my avail. I sat by myself, so anxious and fraught with the stress of pondering what to do, of knowing that I had been left behind. I have always been disregarded, from that moment forward. Un-missed thoughts. Or, perhaps it has started even prior. I stared into my empty cereal bowl, woolgathering. Clammed in knots. Chastised was I, rotten for fading into the background. Deviating. Where is my mother? Where? Trust the tough road; there’s never enough rope. Lyrics: Fading into the gray, enervated morning I found myself that moment forward It even started prior to being outside It even started prior to being outside I was to be background Been left behind always Outside, they made the earliest memories In my skein, place of home Deposited, so alone Consuming stress of pondering Empty cereal bowl, woolgathering Fading into the gray, enervated morning I found myself that moment forward Anomalous was a promise of me Chastised was I, for deviating It was perhaps fraught, it looked anxious Confusing children have disregarded One roomful of I Everyone was shepherded, un-missed And I, I stared into the other Today was my new rotten breakfast And where is my mother Outside All in not knowing what to do Bus my upsetting thoughts The adult from myself, my avail came to And I, I clammed up with knots When they had a stimulating location Except I, some were bussed With that, my trust Where has it been Where has it been Always went for the tough road Never had enough rope I found myself that moment forward “Sibylline Firmament Rent by Pareidolia” Hey, another allusion within the title. I tried to craft this in an even dreamier fashion than “Stelliferous.” It took the most time to settle on the notes/progression that felt best for the sax. The low rumble throughout is an already big, room-mic-cranked kick+cymbal accent, with a lowpass filter and other goodies. The trenchant sounds that rend the soothing ambience are a conglomerate of: a reverse-audio scream (my own) of the word “FORWARD”; a shaker; a mandolin; and bass, all edited together in tandem. The tempo mirrors the initial tempo of ‘Elephant.’ “(There’s No) Elephant in the Room” (drum transcription) The resplendent fuck-you to end it all! Coincidentally, also the last of the main tunes composed for the album, starting on 09OCT23. My fry-scream inspiration for this was Devin Townsend; I was really ‘giving it the big one’ attempting to channel his furious performance on SYL’s Alien. I think the super high overdub-layer on “YOU” bends up to an A#5. Check out the xylophone part—brutally difficult. I spent around eight hours rehearsing it, but could only track at 75% of the performance tempo. Thanks, Pro Tools! At the very end is a cluster of random notes MIDI-programmed—more like MIDI-puked-all-over—via Brainworx’s Oberhausen, underpinned by some crunchy, affected drums—it sounded like a drum corps rehearsing (at Fryshuset Klubben in Stockholm)—that I voice-memo-ed on tour. These are the only lyrics that weren’t cut-up. There are parallels to “Living in an Ellipsis” (‘Ditties 6’), but this is more honed and barbed. This goes out to you. You know who you are. Lyrics: I've been at my work long enough to know that my Presence, the sheer act of producing material Continues to annoy, fluster, downright perturb some I am a thorn in someone's side, if you are that Someone, just know that I don't give a shit, never have Never will, I don't even want to Be the thorn, for I'm ambivalent to it all (spoken) I've never networked, brown-nosed, or ingratiated myself to anyone. Lastly, if I ever do decide to stop my work, know that whatever influence you wield in the public sphere regarding the admission or omission of my work as an entity or my career in general will have had zero bearing on said decision. OH YEAH: FUCK YOU Goodbye

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