Necrobisect

by Pete Jon

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Sciotopaint
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Sciotopaint The lyrics hit, the twang is on time, the craftsmanship is apparent on a song style that many other artists would fall flat on Favorite track: devil got his eye on me.
Will Amato
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Will Amato My first purchase through Bandcamp. Nice stuff.
Philippe Tremblay
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Philippe Tremblay insanely good. refreshing. Favorite track: party line.
Clayton Giles
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Clayton Giles This musician mines the richness of traditional folk-blues while exploring 21st century sounds. Found-sounds, samples and all sorts of other goodies find their way into the tunes. His lyrics and clever word-plays hit hard. An album I'll be listening to a lot. Favorite track: devil got his eye on me.
Aaron Miller
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Aaron Miller I had the privilege of hearing this album from it's initial release, so I wish to be clear as I write this 5 years later: I am STILL finding new symbolism, meaning, and inspiration in the words contained herein. I admit that this album is, in some ways, contextual and impenetrable. In other ways it is so heartfelt and embracing that anyone willing to engage with it will find something incredibly rewarding. Please listen. It is so worth your time. Favorite track: new body.
Nora_Go
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Nora_Go Pete’s words catalyze me to pray and see. Amazing album and artist!
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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Originally recorded to 1/4" tape, this analog record features stripped down guitar-and-vocal folk arrangements of the album Necrobisect. Due to the time constraints of the medium, the song "Indiana" is not included on the record. The packaging includes an art card insert with a download code for the digital album, streamed here, featuring more elaborate arrangements built around the original tape recording. My hope in writing Necrobisect was that it could be enjoyed two ways, in the sparse intimacy of an analog medium as well as in the exuberant, somewhat haphazard framework of found-sound collage and electro-rock'n'roll.

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  • Poster/Print + Digital Album

    Well wouldn't you just love this full bleed glossy B&W heavy stock 11 1/2" x 11 12" art card to hang on your wall? Featuring the iconic Necrobisect text "it came out of the ground, through our mouth and into our body" in awkward script over an intriguingly dead couple, this is the perfect conversation piece for impressing a date or graduate student. Full lyrics, album download code, and tasty bits of gossip included on the reverse side.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Necrobisect via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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  • Full Digital Discography Full Digital Discography

    Get all 5 Pete Jon releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of deplacer, joyride // deathdrive, Some Tender F*cking Success, no hard rain, and Necrobisect. , and , .

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1.
05:38
I got no party line got no party line just a broken heart and a troubled mind I think in epigrams I write with a slanted rhyme and I’ve been too low to find me a party line I see them war machines half off at the five and dime buy you a gun now ape you a war crime they’re all down at the party place don’t you know it’s party time? now they’re live on camera rubbing out their party line rally up this America with a fleeting sound every word, it’s an epitaph ash in the mouth a fleeting sound I was born in my father’s house I am my mother’s child and I saved my soul on the banks of the Idlewild I hit the road too young was an itch that I had to find was a voice of a god— “be a man, now, pick a side “o kind child of mine you ain’t the fighting kind but you got your tongue saccharine and serpentine you piss on Porphyry you got no party line and you pop your wafer in the nick of time.” bless me now I am a free man free to suck off the dick of the paradigmatically man I eat from his hand and don’t you work his land and don’t we all dance for a crumb of his contraband? I saw them war machines turn into holy books every canon’s a prophecy every drone’s a philosopher every dream is a wet one went and got me a private room you can rent you a coffin kitchenette and a street view every day it’s America went and got me some lighter skin still I been too low to get me out partying when I die, ain’t no prayer for me every prayer is a parody lay me down in the Quiet unrippled by your sophistry Jesus, is there room in your house for a child so bitter? the Man come out my mouth with every sound but I would not be fool enough to turn you down if you were to let me in your bed or if you lay me to the Ground I got no party line no party line you can keep your jesus I’ll keep mine crucified I’ll have mine Chicken-fried kick back with a glass of wine and I’ll put my Pen straight up your party line
2.
3.
I will choose my battles devil got his eye on me I will pull my own trigger devil got his eye on me I will shoot your locks in I will hunt your loved ones I will take your dirty money golden boy, you blessed son devil got his eye on me I make the rules now, rich boss I make the rules now, rich boss you can rot in the Cage you got rich off facefucking fancyfree frilled up in your finery corpse in a Three-Piece I will choose my battles and my weapons are the birds and the bees and my weapons are my hands and my knees and the eye of the devil is a deathly decree and the devil got his eye on me
4.
the Drone swung low like an angel gone awry with a cool precision wiped every tear from our eye the philosopher from the Quiet of her room saw the soft unfolding of my body in its bloom she came for me! she came for us all! in reams of gold! a blaze of color! you hold me now! the palm of your mind! the lips of you sight! your tongues of fire! and the streets were filled with the children of our love half-formed, stillborn, unlimbed, and in blood how fragile, flesh! how easily it cleaves in the still caresses of her Brain at a Screen it comes for you! the shape of desire, remotely drawn you Noble Rider you have me now! Sweet Charioteer you Beast of Burden great Fist of your Fear the Drone swung low on the wings of a turtledove and a voice from the TV cried, “This my Child, whom I love” and the sound it made— a million violent violins— with a cool precision slit the length of our skin o my love— you came for us! you came for your own! o holy Zion! o holy Babylon! philosopher, flamboyant and grave your crypt of rubble passionate grip of your Gaze! you have me now! you can have it all!
5.
07:29
back home to Indiana back home to Indiana beat a stone for water feed on quail and manna I look into the future and I put it in my planner guvner got his mantra like a pharaoh got his scepter or the jobless got their manners at home, in Indiana I watched the waves, I saw them part I know the law of the Lord who wrote it on the stone of my heart these strip malls and bigboxstores this what we left little Goshen for? that foreign town where I was born— there’s a Tree out the window don’t no one know what that Tree grows good ol’ Tree of goods and evils it beckons with its contours and with the way the wind blows quiet, suggestive Signals hung heavy with icicles sounds a Whistle and a Crackle mr. pence, you can suck my Name ah you liberals can suck the same there’s a fire in the mountain range an army waiting in the wing parkbench and prisoncage go ask the dust where we all go mores and million-dollar homes peoplepets and pleasuredomes etiquettes and antiphones back home in Indiana back home in Indiana I’d die to see some Mountains rising up from some Water hope I live to hear that impossible Silence in all this grammar I’d crawl inside the Uterus of that mystical Mammal on the edge of Indiana there’s cool kids all around the cool kids got this town they dug their underground they’re proud of what they founded they sing a decent sound you keepers of the Modern State you swingers of the Modern Sword you’d have me buy your Real Estate you’d put it in my Shopping Cart you’d drone it to my Garden Gate you chiseled out some lenses and you put us all on camera you watch the words I think in like a frightened, fisty father you’re selling Indiana like some overripe Banana this desert that I live in my Silence and my Drivel since the Babylonians discovered just how few Fucks I give (0) I’m standing at the mountain pass I’m staring at the Promised Land won’t settle with the keeping class go Fuck yourself some other ass go find yourself a real Man I ain’t the man you think I am back home in Indiana back home in Indiana stick out like a sore thumb and all you got’s a hammer I would not be a part of this Body but the Bird that picks it cleanly a Pin to pop your wet dreaming neither cog nor lever but the Spanner in your machinin’ go find yourself some other semen when I die, I’ll bless the Lord blink and I’ll become a Gourd some Pumpkingod crawling with worms rotted, mute, and pumpkinwarm go Fuck yourself some other form go find yourself some other sperm
6.
03:34
ah you party boys you good ol’ party boys with your overwrought bisection in a two-party erection, protect your colorful confections with an entire department of corrections ah you pithy, poignant, petty party boys now you’re down at the party place don’t you know it’s party time and you wear that party face and you do that party line glad-handing party-coy you puppet-party-toy don’t you know there is only one Party you pretty party boys I sing hell with the tacky smile hell with the quick fix hell with the platforms hell with the sweet perfume you piss hell with your siren sound I am the Siren now boozing fools on a party cruise I fully intend to take you down ah you party boys! you precious party boys how you gather in the glade to shade this cheap facade you’ve made in all God’s Country you’ve surveyed (sipping vodka-lemonade) you got a videogame for a brain where you play me who will not be played oh you pithy, poignant, good ol’ party boys hell with your party shirt hell with your dental work hell with your limp peg fucking hell with the tail between your legs hell with your serpent cum I am the Serpent’s Tongue I’ll cut a platitude in half for every jizzy tune you hum I sing hell with your death toll hell your remote control hell with your figurehead hell with your World Wide Web fucking diddle of a mid-life I am the Little Death I come to titillate your middle with a song of a scythe I sing hell with your pipeline hell with your gunchime I ain’t impressed with your tar sands ain’t arrested by the size of your hands fucking hell with your funny bone I am the Devil’s Tone blowing ditties from your whistle mouthing missives in your gristle I sing blessed are the cocksick, bullshat, motherfucked blessed are the wardead bluelipped, upchucked blessed those mined for their guts and tossed out in a heap blessed all nonverbal blessed those with skin disease blessed are the Godless blessed are the Meek blessed are the digitless, paperless, wireless, toothless blessed all internally displaced blessed every casualty of your nation state
7.
settle down, my brain though I’ve been under you will find your way though you blink and balk and blunder hear how the old songs awaken feel how the old loves come alive in the olden day you will Wonder you will find your place though you may not recognize in an older face thorough and thoughtful older eyes you and your ol’ mausoleum you and your ol’ heart of bone settle down, my brain— you are not alone
8.
04:26
(for karis) what will it take to be holy? what will it take to be holy here and now? there’s an urgency! here and now— tape over our Mouth veil over our Eye what will your New Body? what will your New Body be on the other side? will you leap like a Lion? will you be unburdened—a Butterfly? what will your New Body? how will your old Injury come alive? how will you wear your Organs? here and now— ashes that you’ve become ashes that you’ve won your brow ashes that you’ve loved and now— coals that were your Eyes I awake my Incision the nerve endings come alive! what will it take to be holy? here and now— I see blood on the streets I smell blood in the water and how—Jesus Christ at my neck with a scalpel, necrobisect what will your New Body? will you be a Waterfowl? newly birthed without history— will you be a Barn Owl in the moonlight? will you wear it out proudly? what will it take to be happy here and now? Lark, Lambkin, unlonely— tape over our Mouth veil over our Eye
9.
10.
I build my house here in this State where the market’s free but the people ain’t blue-eyed machines—the market’s free but the cost of living been catching up with me I make my home; the market’s free but they’re pawning you like they’re hawking me my walls are cold they’re made of skin a knife could rend them open I speak in tongues (to your loin) I have no words (left to coin) I know the law of the land like I know the Law of the Lord been educated liberally I cut my teeth on the Man I’m almost free! I’m almost dead in my sin I’m your Wet Dream baby, my pen is The Next Big Thing if the Free World comes looking for a god I am The Right Tool For the Job I build my house here in this State where talk is cheap but I’m giving it away they fill their teeth with all this dying they touch their screen their faces shine they’ll fuck you straight they have no shame they know your face they know my name my walls are cold they’re made of skin a knife could rend me open
11.
bwoooooooooaaaaaaaaw
12.
03:38
police come plainclothed to take me down wait on every corner in this town to take me down treat you like a sickness don’t they now? how much homelessness can the heart bear? how much homelessness can the heart bear? I’ve made mistakes and I’m sorry— fuckers got their pain, they bear it out barcode in my brain, I’m overwhelm price put on your head, now out your mouth don’t out yourself how much headlessness can the heart bear? how much headlessness can the heart bear? you know I’ve made mistakes and I’m sorry! it came out of the Ground through our Mouth and into our Body and all I’ve got’s the lexicon of power for to twist and stab at the Statue and where, kind child will you build your house? come now, dear soul put the Coal to your Mouth come out of your Body and into the Ground! police come in pillform down my throat come into my brain, you devilgoat come down my throat treat me like a sickness, grip and grope then down my throat
13.
04:37
forty years, forty years cut me loose forty years forty bones in the skin I wear forty devils at my heels o my God, been forty years when I die, when I go lay me down on the Open Road fire to purify my bones then scatter me out on the Open Road lay me down on the Open Road I used to pine for New York City the fume of flesh oozing from some underground the sound of bone rattling in an oil can and the Fuckers’ moans so meaningless and loud I miss the nights in Arizona coyote howling right beyond the city lines the smell of dust the Catalina Mountains just a-hovering at the edges of the Mind when I die, when I go lay me down on the Open Road raise you up a glass of rye if I die before my time if I die before my time when I come home to Indiana I see the fires burning in the alleyway it’s all we can to keep us warm this winter just to flicker in some dark, forbidden place call me away, you mighty Mississippi call me away, you artery of America green Illinois, blue-eyed Kentucky let the dead wash their own dead away New Orleans, hot and sweet going down to New Orleans gonna hear the Trumpet sing hope I die in New Orleans delta air and the broken beat and if you go before me, Brother let Jesus know I won’t be coming clean I’ll come in twos one half dragging the other like an Animal that loves where it’s been

about

Necrobisect is about death, separation, and the American wet dream. The basic tracking of simple, stripped-down guitar and vocal performances were recorded on a 4 track reel-to-reel and shipped off to be mastered and cut onto vinyl. The digital tracks available here incorporate a more elaborate arrangement of many found sounds, digitally manipulated and transformed into instrumentation and collage.

Many thanks to the good people at Peter Claver Catholic Worker, Our Lady of the Road, and the Healing River Retreat Center in South Bend, Indiana for affording me the time and space to write these songs from November, 2013 to May, 2014. Thank you Kate Heflick, Gus Bennett, Kelsey Garrity Riley, Erik Riley, Melissa Taylor Jenkins at Katastrophic, Chris Faroe, Rachel Laitman, Jon Schommer, Mim Stoner, Mitch Bradford, and Rachel Leigh for your help, advice, encouragement, and friendship along the way.

Also, thank you to everyone who backed my crowd-funding campaign to make this album--you are too many to name but I could not have done it without you.

"A masterpiece" - Gus Bennett, US Navy

credits

released September 18, 2014

Trumpet on “I’m almost free” by Zach Huckel-Bauer
Tenor Sax on "I'm almost free" by Kyle Schweizer
Some drum samples on “devil got his eye on me” by Jordan Hamrick
Choral work on "the philosopher ii" by the Firth Family Choir

Voice samples of Ian Spink and Sandy Bennett on “(all my channels are open)” and Jen Betz on “indiana” used with permission.

Additional rehearsal samples on "indiana" by Jon Schommer and the Town Cuties

Mastered by Howard Givens

Artwork by Kelsey Garrity Riley and Erik Riley

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Pete Jon Lansing, Michigan

Pete Jon is a singer-songwriter and collaborative producer in the DIY tradition.

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