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Swim Out Past The Breakers

by Telethon

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1.
LYRICS: Again I’m stuck inside satellite imagery, this diorama spinning ‘round ahead of me. Zoom in on my best friend in fifth grade’s home to see his family has removed a giant red oak tree From the yard and my visual says it looks barren now and I’m wondering when they stopped caring. I haven’t spoken to any of ‘em; the sister, the brother, the father, the mother. The backyard slopes down just the way that it did, with a screen porch frustratingly hidden. There’s a limit; the memory exceeded. The limit; Nostalgia defeated. I wish I could be there to see it. All the times that you’ve had. All the good. All the bad. All the afters. All befores. Now, then, evermore. So, why… Don’t it provide you with some escape? You had a bit of a revival once you saw the wake. How it left you with no quarter for your fears ‘cause you’re living twenty-some-odd years ago. Cast off the future, you heard the one ‘bout ‘No Future’, you could say that lane assist suits ya, but wouldja? By all means flick it on, but don’t be disappointed when you wake up tired, sad, and disappointed with yourself and all the Shit! You can’t seem to get done. Shit! You can’t bring yourself to do Shit! Zipped up in a Jansport. You’re carrying it with you when you go.
2.
LYRICS: Glad to tell you that your mission statement put a high price on your head. I gotta tell you when you pitched the pitch, it made me glad that I wasn’t dead. So, guns-a-blazing, inching quickly forward to a place that I haven’t been. I knee a dent into the washing machine and put my broken AirPods in. When the only way to go is the one that you don’t know, it puts the automatic earth into the foreground. Half a year to try a service that lets me cut right to the front of the line. And they get long ‘cause of the government workers guarding all of the nice citizen’s lives. I watched a film where it was no big deal from around 1965. There were no seatbelts, you could smoke on board, and the crew was all drunk by the peak of the climb. Outer space still up above, all the ants straight down below, and still the automatic earth is in the foreground. I can’t help but slip into the background now. I never thought that it would be like this, I never thought that it would bend, I swear I didn’t, but it did. I never thought that it would end like this. I never thought that it would end. I swear I didn’t, but it did, but it did, but it did, but it did. Now I’m picking out the pieces of my life I swear got harder and I’m swearing by the book in early March I’d gone self-starter. We’re afraid the breaks are these: Mistook the forest for the trees. You built no gutter on your eaves and now the mold has grown appendages and just asked if it can leave. So... No regrets. It’s all too perfect. No regrets. We’re only perfect. No regrets. You’re doing perfect. No regrets. And the seasons linger longer as the year goes marching on, and still the automatic earth is in the foreground.
3.
LYRICS: I got caught up, once again, kind of irrationally. So then I hung up on some friends who couldn’t take the leap off the cliffside swing; who said I can’t let go of all I claim to be. And if I can’t let go at all, I claim defeat. Sprint jump the snakes, tied up. Explain oneself cohesively. Narrow ledge, shimmy across those quicksand pools you built between points A and B; from Z to Zed. The ones that matter least stick in your head. You get the feeling you can’t take it anymore. You hope the driver in the station boots your ass on out the door. So apathetic. Maybe they forgot. Do you know what I mean? Do you know what I mean or not? Sprang up, fresher, squinting down my week. And placing bets on the likeliest day to succeed, but still concede that the highest highs, don’t know why, but they always seem to stem from those lowest-of-the-low expectations. And what’s more, to that end: In hindsight, what defines those highs? The kinds of lows around. Insight that lifts you up can only work if something knocked you down. Could that be circumstance? Could that be heaven sent? Now everytime I get to telling I can’t matter anymore. And everytime I wanna whisk my fuckin’ laptop to the floor. Say it’s ‘copacetic’ and ‘no one’s fault’, Will you know what I mean? Do you know what I mean? No, I don’t even care if you can’t be my beacon through. No, I don’t even mind if this all sounds the same to you. I will try and try to strain the grime from what on that night rings true, and then those lines I stretch to signify, they’ll tighten up and I won’t have to waste your time. No more and you won’t have to screen my calls. No, I won’t bother you at all. No, no, no. And next time that blurry feeling comes a-rapping on the door; next time I get the notion I don’t have it anymore. I will recall what I forgot. Do you know what I mean? Do you know what I mean? Do you know what I mean or not?
4.
LYRICS: Darkness found me in the middle of late night parking. Why’s it so hard to know where you belong when you don’t even know how or if you went wrong? So, late night, come home, in the middle of work sucks, I know. Why’s it always the small things you want that you put up with not having for so long? Gondolas go zipping ‘long on cables through the air. The sway and maxed-out hum of being there infuse your boring room with atmospheric atmosphere. It buffers and you buffer and you stare, you’re there, you stare, you’re, well, you’re there. Darkness left me blissful and zoned-out. Beleaguered don’t well describe me, oh, my friend, no more. We’ve been working towards this end and now we’ve reached it well before we thought we’d be reaching it, and how outstandingly great this world can be! Outstandingly great, so all can see. Outstandingly.
5.
LYRICS: As implied in the last song: We fall for the temporary lulls of motion with sickness that turn to a secondary stall. Unconscious collusion; illusion of bloodstains on the wall That go undetected; deflected and all, but That’s not what I am here for. Trust me, that’s not what I’m here for. It’s only meant to be a mea culpa. Meta-C4 and cetaphil, gin-and-soda with a twist of any citrus fruit you can get in your sweaty mitts. My god, is the first third the best third? Or did the fable lie? I lied in the last song a bunch if you haven’t realized. Consider the panorama harder to define. Anyway, that’s it. I thank you, my friend, for swinging by. As if! You had! A choice! Invited! But! Without! A choice! I knew your plans. Knew you had a fairly blank agenda. As blank as the return address of the sender. I’ll always remember that part where you said the don’ts do not always match up with the did. The part where the values the seeker-of-truth held hold taut at first ’til they gotta hold looser; don’t reflect the passion you had in your youth, so don’t go beating yourself up.
6.
LYRICS: Upset your boss ‘cause they interpreted your tone wrong. Far too many semicolons and you went long. The words were good, but can’t argue they were a bit flawed. You packed your shit up in a huff and went a bit broad. And that’s the thing: You build trust but it doesn’t exist. A common theme across all of your relationships. It well might plague your brain until the day that you dare to quit flicking your Bic and then cursing the glare. Sit and stare. Master rationalizer. Send a flare, please, through the air. Screams master rationalizer. Please divert. We’re dying here. You had a dream that you’d grow old and be the envy of your hometown. You had that dream at six years old. Nobody asked you why, or what, or how. And at some point, ‘round junior high, decided I can course correct and steer [which was correct] away, away, away from there. A grown adult somewhere went back, bringing us right here. So, we’re clear. Master rationalizer. Pull the seer please, bring her near, ‘cause the master rationalizer’s got some stuff he doesn’t want to hear but really needs to hear. The dogs a-shaking ‘cause he don’t want you to leave. Nevermind the afternoon. It’s all alright with me. The grounds a-quaking, making waves beneath your feet. If you don’t lean into the beams, you’re bound to eat shit in the street. If all this was worth it, if all this was working, if it all came out perfect, would searching besmirch an otherwise solid reputation; front-facing facade to the public? Does that even matter? Does that even make sense? Or are we just circling again?
7.
LYRICS: All well aware of the effort it takes to correct a rash decision; to correct a really bad mistake. The point I am trying to make is one you’re gonna have to sever from experiences had of late. If we’re being frank, I’m involved half the time, indirectly there in the other. Day-to-day that is so interwined, only makes sense that it’d rip apart. But still, everytime I see you cryin’, I can’t help but feel like dyin’. Sounds rote, sounds suspect, I know. I’m surprising myself by saying everytime we’re passing by that shiny phosphorescent sign, it looks a lot like paradise. I’d like that for my own and our own. What say ya? Would you say yeah? So, fuck those friends that we were hangin’ round with last night. Nevermind ‘em, buddy, nevermind ‘em. Nevermind. Pack our possessions in a van and start a new life. We can get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive. We can get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive. Rotary mower versus one with a reel. One of three Home Depots by the house waiting for my guts to spill to some poor unwitting cashier or customer service associate who takes for granted how the will takes hold in remarkable ways. Confusing, hazy, wide tunnel vision. Raw nerve pinched. I’m buying a rake. They found a brain-eating amoeba in the manmade lake. Everytime I’m stagnant or stalling, I get panicky and I solve it. When, by proxy, you go with me, hope it goes alright. And hope you say yeah. What say ya? Hope you say yeah. All these ideas we were floating ‘round here last night. I kinda like ‘em and I think you also kinda like ‘em. Settling down don’t mean we’re starting up the back nine. Gotta get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive. We gotta get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive. Don’t intend to pry but aren’t you wondering why the decade passed us by? In a drone flown ‘bove the plot, we’d spot the warning signs. The circles in the crops check all the boxes. Take the talk offline. Neighbors that we spy on. Say goodbye. So, fuck the hesitations keeping us up last night. Nevermind ‘em, buddy, nevermind ‘em. Nevermind. As if we’re capable of setting down a lifestyle. I think we’ll get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive. We’re gonna get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive. I think we’ll get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive.
8.
LYRICS: It’s always 72. Sunny and blue. In the most eastern room of the house that grows with you. How we used to try watching planes as they fly overhead with the lamp street glow glare back into our eyes. And I don’t know why it all came on down exactly how it did. And I don’t know why it all came on down. I think it’s best we keep it hid. ‘Cause it’s too late to call you back and I don’t know what I would say anyway. Too late to orchestrate, so we’ll give it a day. Priorities change. You can always just draft it and trash it all. Okay. Freight airplanes in the night may well be dots in the sky. Specks of dust rattling walls but that we’re not quite seeing right. From the cornermost window I spot the stationary glow of the domestic terminal a mile away at SFO. United Airlines hangar on the edge of town keeps their fleet all safe and hid. And I don’t know why that thought broke me down, but long story short, it did. It was too late to call you back. Didn’t know what I would say anyway. Too late to rearrange, so we’ll give it a day when the season changes. We can always just draft it and trash it. We’ll give it some days where the seasons change and we can always just draft it and trash it all. Okay. If you want this for yourself, I mean genuinely, you can take it from me. I hypothesize I wanna stay here for myself and what I thought it could be. If I want this for myself, I mean genuinely, is what I thought I could be just a sad aside; Photoshopped image of the self and what I hoped I would see?
9.
Marlinspike 02:14
LYRICS: Wake up call, it’s 5am. Don’t they know I’ve been wide-open-eyed since I got in? Je suis ‘merican. Ici pour le travail. Excusez mon français. It’s my first time overseas. I’m about to turn 29. I wish that my phone would stop crying that I’ve got reason this seems isolated; reason to be fucking wired. I just nearly got bricked by a Kymco and I’m worried that I’m losing my mind. I hate this place because it’s so strange, Hate how it’s interjected the real into a cut-and-bone-dry routine. Resent the universal appeal. I mean, really, this place isn’t so strange. The people seem honest and ideal. But I hate how it’s disrupted routine, ‘cause I love routine above everything. Wi-Fi network bars stand firm upright. You’ve just sent a message that you’ve arrived. Merci mes étoiles chanceuses. Ce n'est pas the best experience I’ve had thus far. Within a minute of keying you in, I have noticed that I’ve stopped freaking out. Know you know you have the power to calm me, And you know you keep a stillness that simply Decompresses all the tension within me. Makes me feel less like I’m gonna burst. And I love you for the person you are Like I loved you for the person you were. All the changes that you’ve seen in yourself? Those changes didn’t even occur. Accepting that has been the uphill battle. We forget we both can read each others’ inner monologues without the need for putting words to temperatures. If I seemed unsure it’s cause you seemed unsure. Wake up, buddy, it’s time to give up the fight. We’ve never been in a city so grey and so bright. We got another eight hours of light. I guess it’s time we had a moment of life.
10.
LYRICS: Skull & Roses and a Terrapin Station sticker Peeling off the back-end of a Chrysler Town & Country We saw blowin’ through a stoplight in the middle Of a North Chicago suburb in the middle of another bummer of an afternoon. Had to say that I was up to something. You heard me sounding bitter ‘round a hotel In a far-off state. Suppose it’s time we had a conversation— Not the type I’ve learned to kind of like in hindsight, But the type I’ve learned over time to hate to say I hate. Like I hate to say I hate the way this city smells In the summertime come late July. It’s tar; the L-Track’s spark. It’s the dog shit in the park. It’s the sludge dripping down into my parking spot. I could really use a word or two That’d wash away the doubt. I could really use a story we could both cry tears about. I could really use some rain, but I can’t spot a single cloud. So there’s nothing I can do about it now. By a weirdo statue with a teal patina [but not the kind you’d ever wanna pay for] Something took me down unexpectedly. A subtle pounding by my eyelid. Subtle, then resounding in the center of my forehead. And the pound became a knock, and the knock politely said: Man, I hate the way you hate the way this city sells itself to passersby come late July. Streets all blocked off by the field Where the masses have congealed. Looking like blue jay flocks ‘round beer gardens. It’s easy to play crank when you’re the one not having fun. And every weekend brings a range of mange and anger ‘till it’s done. Find an awning, wait it out. Pray no lightning from the clouds. But ain’t there something you can do about it now?
11.
Cyan 01:41
I wrote an email that I thought was fine. I wrote an email that I thought made sense. I separated with divider lines, Bolded the headers and even indented it. I wrote an email and you hit reply And wrote a number of your notes in blue Type by one of my divider lines Said, “I’m hoping that you’ll find this helpful.” Threw both my arms up in the air again. Crank neck side-to-side. It’s all I talked about for a day again. Enter, return, patronizing fuck. If you listened, would you hear me? If you listened, you could hear me. I can hear you sighing. If you listened, there’d be no problem; Probably sleep all night. Rooster beeping at the crack of dawn. Magically all the feeling’d gone. Tension headache from the black abyss. Sense memory inefficacious. Wrote another email where I disregarded The cycle of tumult that your email started. I only said, “Thank you for all of your feedback!” Graceful, with much tact. Sincerely, the Sad Sack Who threw both their arms up in the air again. Let it seep through cracks. That couldn’t separate from the work again. Lower shoulders, breathe in, have a laugh. If you listened, would you hear me? But you don’t, and so from now on: Not bothering telling you my plans. If you listened, you would hear me. If you listened. But if not, I can’t engage and hope you understand.
12.
Worm Dirt 00:52
I’ve been focused on forever and eternity’s eternal decreases; How if the semi goes a-barreling, the chassis’s gonna end up in pieces. And when they told me not to worry; that the guy in charge will offer relief when All our tires turn to leather and the brakes won’t even offer up screechin’, I apologized that I didn’t buy it. I wish I could but I got a little sick of tryin’ Not to resent a present tense sensed by no living being before. Oh! I used to wanna see you. I knew I wanted out the moment that my body walked in. Now! I feel we all could be you. You knew I wanted out the moment that you saw me walk in. Et cetera and something stupid ‘bout the dust in the wind.
13.
Travelator 03:37
LYRICS: A pinch of tense relief. A keen mortality. While I’m playing Viewtiful Joe or watching Northern Exposure. Sure, I’ve had the smoke intrude on even quieter times. So sure it trickles through to minds much heavier than mine. And I half-wonder how to phrase it To the flies drawn to the light; To adirondack chairs who don’t like to discuss half-wonderings why. That frequency’s louder than ever before. You’ve got pliable energy but whatcha using it for? And if you’re feeling how you feel then just don’t feel anymore and go when you decide to board that travelator up through the trap door. That spider in the corner has lived here since October. You’ve mutually agreed you’ll both let each other be. So long as he’ll lend an ear to all of the paragraphs you’ve scrawled, You won’t hit him with a sandal; paper towel him to the lawn. And he half-wonders while he’s stretching yards of silk along your wall, How someone with such a simple problem can’t keep it solved. That frequency’s louder than ever before. You’ve got pliable energy but whatcha using it for? Now if you’re feeling how you feel, could you not feel anymore and go when you decide to board that travelator up through the trap door? That sensation of irrational guilt that you get when you don’t fuel your day by pounding your head on cement. Carve little castles from the wax that builds up that you can’t separate yourself from no matter the time that you spend talking to your friends, tossing in pocket change and closing your eyes, wringing your hands, hoping it’ll somehow form a stent or passageway allowing evening traffic to move through, no questions asked, no questions left, no whys to wonder, split in half. That frequency’s louder than ever before. You’ve got a fiery energy, but whatcha yellin’ at me for? If you’re feeling how you feel could you not feel anymore and go when you decide to board that travelator up through the trap door?
14.
LYRICS: Out of the asphalt, a rose bush is growing. Spiralling softly, they shutter their eyes. Permanent vacation by defenestration. Mellowing swiftly. A victimless crime. I can’t imagine the dough that you lost. What didjya mean when you called me the boss? Second sign, like a bat out of Hell. Oh, back and forth. Oh, back and forth, This little rendezvous is gonna be the death of me. West of the Sunset, a beach by the ocean. Don’t bother scannin’, man, just park at the zoo. Detect a wrong like you’re caught in slow motion. All scarlet begonias with a touch of the blues. Well, I can’t imagine the dice that you tossed. What didjya mean by ‘We’re cutting our losses’? Third strike, like a rat of the wharf. Oh, back and forth. Oh, back and forth. My little rendezvous’re gonna be the death of me. Can’t you imagine a world without end? Right as the fog breaks. You’re not even lookin’. Started things off with the best of intent, but back and forth, oh, back then. But those little rendezvous’re but ancient history.
15.
LYRICS: As I understand, I guess I paced around the porch, flop sweating, ‘round 2am. ‘Cause I had the strangest dream last night. You were in it. Your roommates were in it. A dark driveway. The blue 1994 Civic that I owned three cars ago. I looked around, and no, I didn’t recognize the number crudely nailed into the vinyl siding, straight, but the trunks on all the trees were warped. Familiar sights the likes I’d never seen before. But I know that’s how I get once it starts snowing. Like my whole universe’s set to blow but I don’t know it. This time of year I’m vibrating. This time of year I’m a mile up circling the ring. The middleweight champeen’s still dancin’. ‘Cause he don’t care, no, he don’t care about that. Unphased, he’s pickin’ a fang up off the floormat. Finally watching the David Fincher Alien. Christmas Eve, around 2am, and my neck’s kicked back seventeen (maybe sixteen) times from the sleep I left back in last week, and the back of the sofa digs deep into the cavity behind the cavities that I gotta get seen A.S.A.P. and it startles me. Go down then up in time to see bandana man get spit on by a xenomorph and chopped by a fan, then turn into a tornado of burger meat. Clocked it and I fell back asleep. The “Nothing much, you?” outlining your life now. Running your levels low. Adjust the posture outlining your spine now. Keep going. ‘Cause I know, we all know, that’s how it gets once it starts snowing. Like the whole universe’s got a timer set below it. Can’t normally bring up these things, But that’s just the type of thing you’ll find it’s worth it to bring up as the eye swells shut. No icing it back. And though nobody seems to talk about that, Your corner’s got your back. Back up and take it, Jack. Right as the sun crests over a frozen pond, Central Florida shivers their morning along. A talking head, recognized, says, “Happens sometimes.” Don’t feel the pull to ask them to explain that. ‘Cause you don’t care.
16.
LYRICS: You can occupy your time with “You’ll make it if you try.” With the unexplained long drive; a complete layout of your life. Once you can occupy that view, say ‘Fuck your bummer attitude.’ All that reasoning seem stupid. Once you push it beside, You won’t need to address all you left behind. Don’t you worry ‘bout it, baby, oh your only concern, “Do I go left or right?” Don’t you worry bout ‘em, baby. Speak ill the dweebs in private, but to their faces all be kind. Spray dust the shelves every month or so, and Don’t let your houseplants die. Centrifugal force has kept me in between The protection of pickets I buried holes beneath. I swore this would never become the new me. Sardonic as it may seem, I am sincere. I’m not getting any better any how by being here. Balcony ‘bout twenty feet. Bet I’d survive the leap. Outdid 2011 to 2015. Broke up some of the concrete of your whole neurochemistry. Oh, but you’re not out of the woods yet if the thought don’t escape your mind. No, you’re not out of the woods if that thought brings a piece of your mind. And with the secret communicatin’ forgin’ ahead, Your arguments are cogent but there’s noise that’s disrupting. “Emotional bullshit” and the voices that tell you to say everyday that it’s okay to say. Now we’re making progress, won’t you take a seat? That sinus disinfectant spray could take a week. Got time. Work release. Très magnifique. To whom do I owe this fight? Man, what do I owe this neon brewery sign? I’ll take a minute to ride that old rhetorical beat. Productivity down ‘round 2016. I guess the slack gave pause to the sound of that whole ‘listening to your soul’ thing. Oh no, you’re not out of the woods yet if the thought can’t escape your mind. Can you be out of the woods if the thought brings a peace to your mind? And halfway to Baton Rouge, you may recall that you did not prepare for a stone to snipe a chunk from the winshield. The wipers rubbing dull from years of pushing off sleet and packed on ice in sheets. Think you ought to jot that one down. One down at least. Calling your friends up only to tell them you’re fine. If you get out of the woods somehow, don’t forget how to find them. No, you’re not out of the woods if the thought can’t escape your mind. Can you be out of the woods if the thought brings a peace to your mind?
17.
All well aware of the effort it takes to correct a rash decision; to correct a really bad mistake. The point I am trying to make is one you’re gonna have to sever from experiences had of late. If we’re being frank, I’m involved half the time, indirectly there in the other. Day-to-day that is so interwined, only makes sense that it’d rip apart. But still, everytime I see you cryin’, I can’t help but feel like dyin’. Sounds rote, sounds suspect, I know. I’m surprising myself by saying everytime we’re passing by that shiny phosphorescent sign, it looks a lot like paradise. I’d like that for my own and our own. What say ya? Would you say yeah? So, fuck those friends that we were hangin’ round with last night. Nevermind ‘em, buddy, nevermind ‘em. Nevermind. Pack our possessions in a van and start a new life. We can get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive. We can get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive. Rotary mower versus one with a reel. One of three Home Depots by the house waiting for my guts to spill to some poor unwitting cashier or customer service associate who takes for granted how the will takes hold in remarkable ways. Confusing, hazy, wide tunnel vision. Raw nerve pinched. I’m buying a rake. They found a brain-eating amoeba in the manmade lake. Everytime I’m stagnant or stalling, I get panicky and I solve it. When, by proxy, you go with me, hope it goes alright. And hope you say yeah. What say ya? Hope you say yeah. All these ideas we were floating ‘round here last night. I kinda like ‘em and I think you also kinda like ‘em. Settling down don’t mean we’re starting up the back nine. Gotta get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive. We gotta get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive. Don’t intend to pry but aren’t you wondering why the decade passed us by? In a drone flown ‘bove the plot, we’d spot the warning signs. The circles in the crops check all the boxes. Take the talk offline. Neighbors that we spy on. Say goodbye. So, fuck the hesitations keeping us up last night. Nevermind ‘em, buddy, nevermind ‘em. Nevermind. As if we’re capable of setting down a lifestyle. I think we’ll get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive. We’re gonna get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive. I think we’ll get it right on Checker Drive, on Checker Drive.

about

Telethon recorded this over the course of the year 2020. It was finished in early 2021. A lot of effort and human blood (our own) went into making it. Gene Jacket played nearly all of his keyboard parts with a broken wrist, which was obtained via botched drop-in on a quarter pipe. Kevin broke his glasses during the recording of this album while in a verbal brawl with Psycho J about the guitar solo in “Bad Dudes”. Gene miraculously used a Bic lighter to fix the glasses and they remain fixed to this day. One of Gru’s lovable and hardworking Minions was sadly destroyed during a fit of temporary group bloodlust. Drum was recovering from a broken butthole during the months preceding this album’s recording. No, seriously! He’s fine now though. Strong and solid; a good boy.

credits

released August 20, 2021

Tracked and engineered by Erik Atwell and Alex Meylink at Stillwave Studios in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Mixed and Mastered by Jack Shirley at the Atomic Garden in Oakland, California.

Produced by Telethon, who are Kevin Tully (lyrics, vocals, rhythm guitar), Erik Atwell (Percussion), Alex Meylink (Bass), Gene Jacket (Keys), and Jack Sibilski (Lead Guitar).

Orchestral parts arranged and tracked by Peter Hess at Fort St. Marks, in Brooklyn, New York.

Artwork by the astounding Kate Dehler (katedehler.com)

Featuring the talents of: Mary Sibilski, Franz Nicolay, Kailynn West, Jhariah Clare, Robb MacLean, Amy Upthagrove, Gary Louris, Devon Kay, Amy Hoffman, Daniel Radin, Chris 'Barry March' Keough, Elise Okusami, Chris Farren, Peter Hess, Dana Lyn, and Justin Mullens.

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Telethon Wisconsin

Powerpoppunkrock for the modern kids

Thank you for listening.
telethonband@gmail.com

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