I'm perfect (but that's what makes me not perfect)

by The Sinister Turns

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Limited edition (run of 50) CD with unique artwork by Susan Putnins. Comes in a 100lb cardstock sleeve, hand-numbered with hidden messages from the band.

    Includes unlimited streaming of I'm perfect (but that's what makes me not perfect) via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    edition of 50 

      $3 USD


  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    If you would like a physical copy of this CD with hand-crafted case and hand-stamped CDs, please contact thesinisterturns@gmail.com to arrange ($3 + shipping/handling or pick-up in Boston area.) Limited run of 50.

      $2 USD




Flourish and let flourish.


released September 4, 2011

The Sinister Turns are: Sophie Besl (bass, backup vocals), Susan Putnins (keyboards, lead vocals), Jacob Silterra (drums), Dan Thorn (guitar)
Recorded in May 2011 at the SOCH Studio in Cambridge, MA.
Recording engineer: Dan Thorn.
Mixed and mastered in STEREO Summer 2011 by Patrick Belken.
Album art and layout: Dan Thorn.
Sportsworld Records CD001




The Sinister Turns Cambridge

The Sinister Turns are a four-piece independent pop-rock band based out of Cambridge, Massachusetts, playing richly-orchestrated piano-driven pop influenced by Okkervil River, Mirah, the Organ, and Salvador Dali sliced eyes.

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Track Name: Brutal
Once again in her den the carpet's worn from all her paces. I'm not in any of the places she tried to look for me. The towel drips and my tongue slips and all at once her radar's going to her right. As we collide the world divides to black and white. The canvas starts to burn (or is it return?). But I want something else than this double self. I want something new. Don't you want it too? It's in my mouth. Get it out before my tongue picks up the dagger from my hands, and more before it gives it back to them again. It sharpens with my words (or is it your verse?). Crescent moon, you came too soon. Your edges pinched together and they took my breath away, decapitated by the clench of sunbeams gone astray. And I can't think of any thought I'd want to think without you there. And I can't think of any thought I'd want to think without you there. But I want something mine. I want a clear line. Oh I want something new. Don't you want it too? I'm afraid of unlocked doors and I'm afraid of telling lies: I fear the fists around my wrists and I fear the wounded eyes, but I don't fear the fear itself, in fact, it's on it that I thrive. I need a different sustenance - I don't want to die, I don't want to die. Well, I never tried to kill myself and I was never really raped: my feet were inches from the edge and I was inches from too late. These inches inch up on me now like tarantellas in six-eight, and all the worlds are words away. I hope it's not too late, I hope it's not too late, 'cause I want something more than I had before. Oh I want something new. I want anything, anything, anything new.
Track Name: Chopped Wood
I'm a block of chopped wood. I'm the block of ice under your parents' feet. I am empty, barren, doomed to diminish and repeat. Where'd you go? I swore my eye caught his butterfly wings in my antique net old, rusted, solid and slow. I wish you were below. When you held me I swore that I'd never let go, but I let go. I'm a branch hanging by a thread. I am hacked mathematically, rhythmically, anonymously 'cross the sun like a Salvador Dali sliced eye. Where'd it go? I swore my lungs were filled to capacity with the furniture brocaded, polished and gold. Now it crumbles like coal. Guess it was something that I stole. Well the school's alright, everybody's fine, she just happened to forget a year of time. Well, there was no pencil, there was no crime, just shame, shame, shame 'til the end of time. Well the kid's alright, every day is fine, but at night she's strangled by her own mind. And the children sing "Everything is fine," but at night they whisper, "Why, G-d, why?" I'm a taker admittedly. I will take whatever you will give to me. If it's nice or if it's not, doesn't matter a whole lot, 'cause when I'm alone I'm like a tree that falls, and it kills me but I don't know if I'll make a sound when I hit the ground and nobody's around, and nobody's around, and nobody's around.