Atlas and the Astronaut EP

by Atlas and the Astronaut

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Atlas and the Astronaut's self-titled, debut EP. It's a band-produced and independently published record.

All songs were written and recorded by Atlas and the Astronaut.
Copyright© 2011-2013


released July 28, 2012

On this record:

Matt LeMieux [electric guitar, synth]
Lucas Goughnour [drums, acoustic guitar, synth]
Casey Aspengren [bass guitar]
Beau Rosser [vocals, lyrics]

Album art - Nobuko Hori
Recording, mixing, and production - Lucas Goughnour @ Red Leaves, Read Leaves Studio
Mastering - The Soundlab at Disc Makers



all rights reserved


Atlas and the Astronaut Vancouver, Washington

Fueled with mythic yowling and their own wily futuristic-heavy aesthetic, Atlas and the Astronaut brings surprise and passion to a growing crowd of melted faces in the Portland, Oregon area.

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Track Name: Zakynthos
Torching the forensic files to ashes that cover these scars, was the prevention plan obviating the obtuse stars. Fall free from this periphery gone stagnant from the fringe; dangling oh so flaccid. It’ll mend you in a universe that falls in one place, flaunting a well decorated lace of satin masquerading around a face that remarks,

“Bleed now, because here come the sharks.”

Communicate at the drive-in and know it was the inspiration behind every word eloquently eroding off a mouth interpreting a lullaby. Transcending from above to below, gently caught in the ebb of the flow - gently caught in the movement, in the voice.

You’ve tried so hard, sheltered by sores, but you can’t steal what’s already yours.

Neanderthalic vibrations across stage-right inclinations, and the music will never be fabled so long as the vinyl spins on the record table.

Red eyes in the movement - bright eyes in the crowd. One foot in the water, engulfed in crimson cloud. I’m a fish among the scandals; my gills left marked.

“Bleed now, because here come the sharks.”

Here they come, swimming around my lungs.

Here they come.
Track Name: Uncle Elephant
They must shine near fierce fascination, gladly despairing the sympathy in satisfaction. Summoned by catastrophic disease, inside the barrel of a gun I can’t see. R. I. F. L. E. Come on, baby, won’t you rifle me.

Who is the constant? Where is the constant? I am the constant.

Open your eyelids - raise the bar to the maximum degree. Synthesizing this se(a)quence of constant. This wasn’t an accident. It was an event. Wrapped in a cocoon now brace for impact.

They’ll set you up for failure; veil your eyes with the sand from the beaches of the amateur. This was the vision to end all visions.

The pipedream was predetermined. From the first mating call to the tripping of the land mines from the fall. Bouncing Betty gets all the attention, but I see through the ventriloquism, and cut those strings.

Who is the constant? Where in the constant? I am the constant.

I’m alone in the constellation - figure akimbo representation.

Freeze astronaut, because it’s time.

Now shine, baby, shine.
Track Name: Pleasures
I can see galaxies – all the tragedies and earthly falsities. I’m like the piper calling his rats to the streets. Hiding indecision, hiding everything.

I know I’ve found the time, whistling in the moonlight.

Mother, oh Mother, can the children come out and play? I taste the lipstick on my pillow and on my teeth. I am that striptease.

Your body’s a roadmap, lined with cracks. Slide your finger across to discover all its flaws.

What makes you tick, honey? Lay it on thick, honey. Let your feet touch the floor. Tap, tap, I want you more.

I swear I’ve seen this shine, glistening in the sunlight. Lipstick on this flute of mine.

Playing each note one octave a little bit higher. With my eyes on the her/eyes/on.

The cure is in the words on the tip of my tongue unfurled.
Track Name: Marrow, the Anchor
We’re stuck between positive and negative polarity. And the wind will lift us off the ground, for our bones are hollow. Like a mocking bird or swallow… this bone marrow we’ve found will anchor us to the ground.

Like magnets clung to opposing sides, we’ll hold this chest of mine. This mercury boiling in lungs like cauldrons steam up through throats parting lips that’ll hiss:

“Do you see this? Do you hear this?” My flower, do you feel this?”

As insects move and work in time, you and I share the same hive-mind. Birds chirping above bears contemplating the sweet nectar of the journey, now stick your tongue in beehive’s honey.

Stick your tongue deep into it; diamond lips - coated bliss.

“My flower, do you feel this? Lay back if you wanna see this. Close your eyes if you hear this. Spread your legs if you wanna feel this.”
Track Name: Fatigue for the Quail
Leave it to the ballroom dancer. Spinning around in circles. Driving all the men wild with her hypnotic smile.

One foot after the other.
Track Name: Language of Leaves
I see the ships stirring in the distance. I see the ships setting sail for business. I see the ships transporting the sickness. I’ve been assigned to deliver the package.

But what’s inside this box, I have to know. Curiosity bubbling to the point of… no, no I can’t open it.

I've got to deliver this package to the subconscious mind and everybody will find a way to my insides through my eyes.

And they’ll see the tree roots spew out my mouth as they talk of the legend of the things from the south. As they talk of the legend of the things from the south - roots coming out my mouth. They’re ripping from my sides. You see wood coming out my ears and my nails tearing off. Out my sockets the blood to sap and everything is growing inside me. I’m becoming a tree; pseudo-science metaphysicality. With trunks created, sprouting leaves, I’m becoming a tree.

With my roots firmly implanted in the soil, I’ve grown to the highest treetops to see my brothers looking out. I see my brothers looking back, back at me and judging all my leaves. They’re judging all my leaves. I’m a tree-man body.

I’m changing before your eyes. Can you see my epidermis as it turns to bark? Oh, it’s turning to bark - it’s getting harder. And the deer consume me and they’ll rip off pieces to eat. Come and rip off pieces to eat until I’m bare as the day I was born. Until I’m naked in front of my brothers; In front of myself. Can you see my leaves as they wilt?

This is the language of leaves. They’ll find you with strawberries in your teeth, stirring the tops of my trees.

I was a human being, don’t you see, but now I’m nothing but a dead old fucking tree.
Track Name: The Flight, Part 1
The story’s spread across the sheet of paper, like a crook without a cause. Twenty-six, twenty-five, twenty-four, now hit the floor. Among the cluster of sticks and twigs, I stand with the game rigged to win. Club in hand, now it’s time to land this one. Forgive me this day, it was the only way to get things going.

Time to board the ship that’s set my path underneath the match. Number One, let’s get the ball rolling.

“Dodge now!”

They’re yelling excuses through a heart-shaped piece propelling to the front of the cockpit. Insert the key and lock it. Among the trapped ones, pick the kid that looks the most beautiful.

Lift him up, for all the people to see and know that his star is rising. Worship this boy, for you saved his life. Throw your head back - It’ll be in the epitaph. Distortion of time and place has made this bed a grave.

The angels sing, but do you hear it?

Don’t be surprised when they come to claim. The linoleum is where the blood was stained. The metronome clicked and the clock rang - for it’s too late to back out of this fight.

The beautiful boy, you’ve taken his life.