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Turn to the Left

by The Sinister Turns

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  • Streaming + Download

    Our first EP. Contact us at thesinisterturns@gmail.com or http://www.myspace.com/thesinisterturns ! Download the whole album and you get all the lovely artwork by Andrea Tsurumi!
    Purchasable with gift card

     

1.
Disappear 02:46
I want to write realistic fiction. I want to sing poetic truth, not just for the metaphors, so here it goes. I want to run away. I want to get up the guts to get up and go, not dwell in a cracking dream, so here it goes. Honestly, I'm trying, but where I've succeeded I'm outlined with dots that aren't even needed. There's nothing that's bound within that I hold dear, for when I try to mend, I tend to disappear. I want to solve your logic puzzle. I want to live like Herman Hesse says, not without the risks like this, so here it goes. I want to absorb a waterfall. I want my skin to prune with dew, not remain unscarred from rain, so here it goes. Honestly, I'm trying, but where I've succeeded I'm outlined with dots that aren't even needed. There's nothing that's bound within that I hold dear, for when I try to mend, I tend to disappear. When I try to grow, I mess up so, I shrink below. When I give up fear, I disappear, I disappear. I want to read my Archie comics. I want to laugh at tricky trays, not live pristine Pallas Athene, so here it goes. I want to share my stories with you. I want to make you laugh sometimes, not explicate my expletives, so here it goes. Honestly, I'm trying, but where I've succeeded I'm outlined with dots that aren't even needed. There's nothing that's bound within that I hold dear, for when I try to mend, I tend to disappear. When I try to grow, I mess up so, I shrink below. When I give up fear, I disappear, I disappear. So here it goes, I'll give a try. So here I go, so say goodbye 'cause as it goes, so do I. So do I, until I'm gone.
2.
Eric Demafeliz read Crichton by the second grade and I skimmed the Langoliers while the other seven-year-olds played hop scotch, and dolls, and jump rope skip but Peter and I would duel in Battleship, and though long division wasn't hip it let me carry away on a guilt trip. Whoa! Instead of drawing with the crayons, I'd organize them by shade or hue or alphabetically or by size, and sleep never came easily when I closed my eyes: I could see and feel the needles going into my thighs. Whoa! I tested with the boys, but in a fit of gender wrath, though I read just as well, she said I couldn't, so she wouldn't let me do the math. My mom, enraged, she screamed and kicked 'cause the bias always made her sick, and my next two teachers were handpicked, and though neither one was very strict, If I didn't do the work it's not 'cause I didn't try. It's 'cause if the sentence wasn't perfect, I'd want to die. So I'd retreat back to my room and read Christopher Pike, and with all that murder, how could I not threaten my life? Whoa! We could go far if you'd do us a favor and raise the bar. Otherwise, we scrutinize ourselves and what we earn. Whether letters and numbers, or weapons and lovers, we'll learn. Left back in Somerville is the walking calculator fame. Our time abandoned us, and our innocence it did the same, and what remains are nervous tics like coping with arithmetic, but we are more than high strung chicks: We just gotta learn what makes us tick! Whoa!
3.
My eyes the fold over in half 'Cause I can't bear to look My ears the fold and bend down to your sound Your holy hook My hands are ink There's so much written on them I cannot read my palms My knees are weak I haven't prayed enough, I haven't played enough My stomach's numb from all the kicking Of my heart, but it's still ticking And my teeth are red from all the shame My cheeks passed on to save my name And I didn't know what we create Has a ghost that comes too late To resurrect our former state My legs are scratched From breaking my bad habits, I started new ones My hair is brushed That's ten minutes more I could have spent on this song My stomach's numb from all the kicking Of my heart, but it's still ticking And my teeth are red from all the shame My cheeks passed on to save my name And I didn't know what we create Has a ghost that comes too late To resurrect our former state Being nice was a restraint But now I'm chipping off the paint And assessing my anatomy To see the damage I did to me And my stomach's numb from all the kicking Of my heart, but it's still ticking And my teeth are red from all the shame My cheeks passed on to save my name And my feet are slow so I can't catch What I want most, my supermatch And my hips are sore from all my standing Waiting for you, so demanding And I didn't know what we create Has a ghost that comes too late To resurrect our former state
4.
I'm sure the relief of laying down the sword is a million times the rush of a single chord, but I've no albatross to lift off my neck, so I'm clawing at air and creating a wreck. If there's no window cracking, shouldn't I be glad? Instead the glass bells are shattered by my own hand. The instinct of destruction breaks the melting sand, clear tales of time. My bright blue heart and crimson eyes are new whenever you're near me and I am near you. The rose in my shoulder sheds its thorns, and I gather them back just so that I won't be alone. Oh, I've no albatross, just kisses on my neck, but still I feel the weight upon my shoulders. It is not the end I need, it is the means to cleanse me. (40 Gs) The stars, they pull me in and shut me out: I'll lose them for the last time. The words are colder now I'm older now: I'll say them for the last time. The doors that used to close on my shadow: They'll hurt me for the last time. The waters come, the waters come: The waters will move me for the the last time.
5.
Zolpidem 04:37
Too late to go away. Too late to fall asleep. Too much for me to take. Too much for me to keep. You wonder why I try to push back all those heavy eyes. I bet that I'll forget and make up something, tell you lies. No, I can't remember. No, darling, I can't remember. I'm a mess when I can't remember. I confess that I can't remember. You try to fill me in, you try to fill me up, but my boundaries are so thin, and half of them made of luck. It's after our last dance, so close your eyes and try to dream. The drugs won't stand a chance if all I ever do is scream. I tear apart the sheets and hang the strips up on my wall. The parchment opens wide and swallows me, the runes and all. The message comes too clear, the message comes too late: I escape fear, and I fear escape. It's harder to let go than to start the hold. The oldest stars will slow, the rest are all too bold. I know it's a lot to ask, I know it's a lot to do, but you shouldered on the task. I only asked you to restrain my hands and to open my eyes. I gave you no command; I gave you only lies. But you forgave my state. You let me wander near. Oh I fear escape, and I escape fear. And when you held me close and lifted up my hand, the land where people lost, my dream of life began.

about

An analog recording.

credits

released November 20, 2006

Sophie Besl - bass and vocals, Peter Ekman - drums, Amy Klein - guitar and vocals, Susan Putnins - piano and vocals and ukulele, Teddy Sherrill - keys

Additional guitars by Patrick Stickles

Additional handclaps by Joe Streeter

Produced by The Sinister Turns & Jack Younger

Recorded and mixed by Jack Younger at Basement 247, Allston, MA, basement247studios.com

Recording assisted by Joe Streeter

Mastered by Nick Nampiello at New Alliance East, Cambridge, MA, newallianceeast.com

Album design and layout by Andrea Tsurumi + The Sinister Turns

Album art by Andrea Tsurumi

All songs written by Susan Putnins and arranged by The Sinister Turns

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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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