We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

The Conductor's Fatal Bow

by X.Y. Spaces

supported by
ejh69
ejh69 thumbnail
ejh69 I love the complexity, originality, and inventiveness of this band. For anyone that loves original music. Favorite track: This Could Take Forever.
/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
    Purchasable with gift card

      name your price

     

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Here's the physical copy of our new album "The Conductor's Fatal Bow." In a 4-panel digipak case.

    Price for CD's are $10, $15, $20, or anywhere in between, depending on how generous you're feeling. You could even do more than $20 if you're feeling froggy. Would be immensely appreciated.

    Includes unlimited streaming of The Conductor's Fatal Bow via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 5 days

      $10 USD or more 

     

1.
You don't have to wonder why Every two wrongs that don't make a right Have been gathered and saved for the moment you recall the remorse that you failed to imply. Because we've all been thinking it through That posterchild that looks just like you We had noticed the caption above him read seven brief words that we think you could relate to: "Everybody loves you, and neither do I." And we can try to help but just know, this could take forever. We get framed for eavesdropping when we're tuning you out Getting suspicious when "that's not what it's about" Too many breaths I'm embarrassed to breathe when I think I'm alone but you're right by my side You're well acquainted with the fear of confession It's as if these limits were merely suggestions And I know I've said this millions of times but I wanna let it all out before it loses its meaning: Everybody loves you, and neither do I. Everybody loves you, and I just cannot see why And we don't care to help so just know, this could take forever.
2.
How many close calls until I am spent? Is it you or I that misrepresents? Is there forgiveness in the lack of coexistence? Is it wrong to imagine that nothing can grant it? Does one just assume that it's there? But nobody asks, 'cause no one wants to know Behold! A modern miracle of how I've managed to inhibit my dialogue without ever once breaking character A microexpression could give this away and I'd have nothing to show for those years I spent saving face Willful stagnation, credibility withdrawn, I want to look straight ahead and forget what I saw Yet my expression remains depraved. Yet my expression remains unwillingly depraved. Against all better judgement, should I accept your misguided declarations as truth? And in the event that I should be unconvinced, would you hesitate to recite that old adage once again: "Great minds think alike I suppose?" 'Cause you don't seem so sure of that this time around Will every last scenario lead to sacrifice if getting nowhere close is all that will suffice? Does there lie forgiveness at the edge of this impending descent? "But you'll just have to give up the ghost, and this time it's literal."
3.
Swim 07:01
It eventually comes in to question If I am constantly undoing progress And as I become unrecognizable Does my reticence serve as an explanation? The contemplation of a million lifetimes and all their possible outcomes Will it keep me occupied? Will I learn what to expect? Atop the archives building, disheveled in a sudden, violent collapse In every moment of my advancement, the likelihood of failure increases That man often lauded for his efforts, sure seems suspicious as he strikes the applause As I exhaust myself of any necessary resource that could help me improve, I attempt reflection in a witless state These lamentations will exponentially increase, while any hope for consolation will drastically deplete It eventually comes in to question They move out of structure An umbrage was cast We watched it waver from the shape of their outline Reliving moments that were cut from the past And consequently we dissipate into one another Disconnecting from ourselves as we inched away All in our field of vision, a facsimile Apoplectic as we waste our breath for amity The reflection we fear looks on impassively It eventually comes in to question
4.
You can tell by the way that he looks down By the way that he tries not to laugh That he's got something that he's wanting to tell us That he knows something maybe we don't know Dixie: "What if I told you in the time that we've been here, the sun has set and rose millions of times? What if I told you when we're given instructions, that our worst efforts would work just fine? Believe me when I say I know we deserved this. To tell the truth I kinda figured you knew. And I know that this might come as sort of a surprise, but there's ONE question that I'm nervous to ask and it's: 'what if I told you that I knew a way out?' But you can figure it out. Yes you can figure it out." Crowd: "You'd better tell us right now. You'd better tell us right now." Dixie: "Hey, hey, let's just take a breather. I know you're mad but now what good does that do? If you wanna leave now you'd better comply. Just put yourself in my shoes, oh I think I know what you'd do. Just put yourself in my shoes, oh I think I'd know.." You know I love to see the look on your face I just can't help myself As you can imagine now I'd hoped this had happened. I hope that elephant in the room overstayed her welcome. The consequences of my bright idea, well they just make me laugh. I just can't help myself.
5.
Maybe I'll put this off a couple more times There's no doubt that this feeling survives And do you know what would be divine? If it was in me that you would confide, and not the other way around But go ahead, I can wait, I'm sure no one will take my place But go ahead, I can wait, what's the worst that can happen? Now I'm faced with a useless substitution that I must endure, for that ounce of prevention, and that pound of cure. Would have never known until I tried. Your words, a revelation, no letter could contain One more restless night and you might know exactly what to say So you rushed to let it all out, to try and put yourself at ease This was the moment I'd been waiting for so I thought I'd do the same But this doesn't end well. This sort of thing it could never really end well, and it's getting hilarious
6.
Intangible 04:01
Collapse in to yourself See what I see Fall into the past Dream what I dream It's only when I become aware of all my surroundings, intangible though they may be, that I decide to come clean. I decide what's preferred, but never in consciousness. Increasingly aware of what mistakes I was glad to make. Awake to hear the sound of his swan song. Asleep just in time to miss everything. Arise to meet the wind, with every ounce of dispassion that's left in me. Never a credible source, what resonates as I drift away. Discerning between what's real and fabricated, it proves impossible. Do I act out of benefit, for myself and those I care about? Or did I synthesize that which I'd promised not to mentalize? Trust every thought you have while it's there, the ones you can't control or decide. Despite the doubts that it's wise to optimize one's self with this disguise Collapse in to yourself. See what I see. Fall into the past. Dream what I dream. It's only when I become aware of all my surroundings, intangible though they may be, that I decide to come clean. I was always glad to make this mistake.
7.
Wait for it, there's specific methods to reverse regret. It's independent of the problem at hand. Diverge from or introspect on what fulfills your plan. You'll have to identify which is more necessary. And I can already hear you ask yourself. If it should hurt as much as it does, well it should and it should and it should and it should and it should. It permeates the paradox this results in with only more contradiction. It negates all the "you had to be there," and perpetuates all the ubiquitous tension that somehow makes this seem less realistic than it already did, now how exactly could this be? All the love that was lost, mixed with everything else that lives on, "forever," can't be used to excuse that which we inherit or succumb to, which is not as defining as you thought. For better or for worse, those words we turn our heads to but never say out loud, as if it weren't allowed. The perfect way to ask you I thought of it but lost it, in more ways than one. We pause at every turn, we end up where we'd begun. Bereft of any statement you were told when you seemed alive. Apologetic, when it is convenient, but that doesn't seem to extend that much further than when you are alone. And I thought I did my research, I thought I'd made it clear, but out of respect I'll just leave it at that.
8.
Adorned with a necklace made from balled up sheets of paper and receipts where you'd jot down your ideas, just whatever you could get your hands on. Lest another masterpiece slip through your fingers, just like the last one, and the last one, and the last one. And you wonder why it is that we want you to stop, or at least reflect on what you've become. You can't win back the dignity that you've lost, 'til you cease the transgressions you attract. Gaunt and fetid from each day waiting on a new idea. "This next one is sure to succeed!" What more could inspire? What could stoke that fire? Well just concentrate, yes I'm sure that you'll find it. Oh I hope. For those subtle scowls we can't thank you enough; I believe in you as you believe in me. He'd never waste his swan song on you; he aims to please but he could never make that guarantee. But stick around 'cause eventually he's sure to astound, I hear he's working on something more low-brow. Huge gaps in between deep breaths you're reminded to take, constantly. The origin of which we can't understand. Roused from our sleep we heard the solemn declaration of, "well I've got me a great idea!" You don't get it, you just don't get it. I can never realize these dreams on half-witted limericks and polarizing motifs. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I refuse to end up how I'm portrayed, oh I hope. I hope to live one day. So I'm gonna take a step back. Survey all that's before me. I'm going to take a step back.
9.
They won't notice if it's blatant "See?" Or if they do surely they won't care. Worst case scenario we end up with a few poor reviews. Just doesn't sound so bad. But come to think of it, what if this had happened to me? A life's work turned parodical production. When I look back on this will I feel the same as I did when I just viewed this as an innocuous game. A little worse for wear? Well not just yet but I can try that on for size. "Here may lie where you made the grave mistake." "Alright I think you might just have a point I guess." They must want me dead and I can't say that I blame 'em. Can we just view this as friendly competition? It'd be nice not to be admonished for what could benefit us both but I'm just gonna let you make that call. I want to see the proof that this results in a fall from grace. I want to see the proof; if all press is good press then I guess that's all that was missing. I would love to see the proof. You keep insisting but I've yet to disavow. Before you say to pull the plug just know it'd take a lot to make me think that I've still got it all wrong. They must want me dead and I can't say that I blame 'em.
10.
That man is up to his old tricks again. And he can't be bothered to make amends. His ankles caught in a pit of viola strings. But it's the night before and he's just in the middle of a nervious dream And he asks himself who he is when he writes these songs. A swindler? A conniver? An extention of himself? The constellations reform into a helping hand. Reciprocate or withdraw, they fail to understand. Anticipating resolve, he takes a moment to breathe, but can't recall just what he's seen. And he'll brag. And he'll boast. And he'll never repair the fourth wall he broke until he faces the reflection that he dreads the most. The rhythm section explodes, each pizzicato resounds, every vibrato aglow, not a single dry eye in the room. But all these worrisome thoughts, where they tend to fluctuate, of course it would be right now, they start to punctuate. And what was said on that day, where you made the grave mistake? Did connotations delay a certain hint of dismay? If they just interpret his actions for a minor mistake, if they were to notice those subtle scowls, would that give this all away? That man applauds himself once again. As the end draws near it's too late to make amends. Those he's wronged may try to keep him from enjoying his realized dream. With an obscured view it's still the most beautiful thing that he's ever seen. A standing ovation, a lasting impression, he steps across the stage and takes the fatal bow.

credits

released September 2, 2017

Recording, mixing, and mastering by Lucas Smith with Lucky Sound Studio in Rainsville, AL. Photography by Cameron Flaisch. Artwork by Chris Wilson. Recorded in March-May 2017. Jonathan Ransom on guitar and bass, Brady Lett on vocals, Alex Hames on drums, Joe Canada on clean vocals and piano. Horns from Joseph Whitehead and cello from Chris Wilson. Cyrus Patel, Alex Powell, Alex DeVor, and Nick Wells also contributed with the writing of this album.

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

X.Y. Spaces Decatur, Alabama

'Preciate it

Jonathan Ransom - Guitar
Brady Lett - Vocals
Alex Hames - Drums
Heath Brister - Bass

contact / help

Contact X.Y. Spaces

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this album or account

If you like X.Y. Spaces, you may also like: