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1.
Pin 02:07
disrupted dirt and sinking sediment underneath every new development i made a sound but couldn’t pin it down and spent a decade trying to follow it around with factories blooming fluorescence and steam the city’s a story still developing the turnpike gate clamps down to start the scene like a shutter snapping candids of a dream you’re whiskey and soda, mid-afternoon you mix it strong so there’s a crack amongst the croon we’re taking shelter, throwing darts at works of art or tossing rings on strings at nails in the backyard so if there’s love here then i have seen it then i have known it in its volatile grace concrete and water dappled with dirt and sunlit signals singing soft refrains of how there’s just so many other things to be
2.
i wonder what they’ll build next here and what our block will look like this time next year i bet i don’t recognize it i’m on the subway with my arms up half for space, half in expression of “enough is enough” you splurge on a cab, we kiss in the back seat and for a second we forget that there’s so many other things to be than searching for a sanctuary city overripe west side summer sun setting splitting earbuds on the bus, carole king and otis redding and i try to be tender, try to be kind and remind myself that there is such quiet grace in private moments in public spaces we sing on stolen ground and borrowed time and for a second we forget that there’s so many other things to be than searching for a sanctuary city wrote a note and a song for goodness with no agenda may we map our palms to the landscape may we till this ground forever there’s a landscape coming into focus eyes locked on a figure in the distance remember to remember
3.
skipping every other step down an inertia carried southbound on a train back home to you felt a power in the stillness and a critical resilience a pushback overdue it doesn’t have an address it changes with the context the future stares you down and you stare right back and say: and i can’t help but wonder if the light that we’re losing comes from the cracks in the logic i’ve been leaning on for years i learned that every new footprint of every new development will displace something else in a garden made of mirror and ceramic east midwest to mid-Atlantic framed in grout and concrete and gifted like a travel souvenir so when i spin around and look for validation remind me that the inches i’m losing
off of massive fields of space are well-deserved. and i can’t help but wonder if the light we’re losing comes from the cracks in the logic i’ve been leaning on for years
4.
i only saw you a couple times last year. once at a wedding and once at a funeral. i wore the same clothes to both and i was worried you would notice cause yours were impeccable. you filled me in on potential five-year plans. you’re thinking of jobs and homes and children. slowly rotating a silver wedding band between your thumb and middle finger. and i wondered “oh my god, did i get lost? am i young enough to just move on?” i saw a classmate i hadn’t seen in years. he was well-dressed and i fucked up our handshake. “how’s making music? i haven’t listened yet, but somebody said you’re doing great.” and it felt like a dream at double-speed on a Greyhound back from Pittsburgh. comparing something like that to where others are at? what a backwards way to calculate self-worth. my mother’s out there climbing mountains. my father’s finished with his work. my sister’s moving to a brand new city. my brother’s looking out for her . but anyway, thanks for having me over to your new old apartment. i’m doing well, my flight was fine. i see you listened to the record that i sent you. i wish i saw you all the time, but this is fine. i hope i see you a little more this year. i want a good look at the life that you’re building.
5.
a checklist kept of every state amazed by all the ways we emanate of all the weight a word can bring and how unassuming people do the most remarkable things but i’m a living rapid transit nervous system my feet are wheels applied to tracks pinned to a path, no deviation just back and forth & round and round til it all makes sense we had nowhere to go so we came here squint back a smile, make the best of an awful year don’t just cope now, dig in deeper say it out loud then repeat i think we can stay here the summer’s over
6.
tried to draw the skyline as the vantage point diminished just something small to mark the day and 95 shook my right hand before I finished the Bolt Bus lurched and turned away 
so if you add up all the time spent in transit would it be enough to settle me down? and when it comes, will you even know it? is it even yours to know now? tangled up in traffic like the headphones in my pocket (i will resign) i search for meanings to assign to things like, (to send you both back to nature) “how did we do this before we learned too much about it?” ([with a] candle in the woods)
before the mystery lost its shrink-wrapped shine (still burning) and now all my landmarks are leaving as if they all were just figures and facts untethered to these relative regions forward, not straight, retracing our tracks i was under the impression that time moved slow i mean, you were here just a second ago

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credits

released August 2, 2019

Signals Midwest is:

Jeff Russell - guitar | Steve Gibson - drums, vocals
Ryan Williamson - bass | Maxwell Stern - vocals, guitar

with assistance from:

Matt Jordan - engineering, production, mixing, guitar, percussion
Adam Beck - engineering, production, mixing, percussion, Wurlitzer
Lizzy Jordan - cello on “Pin”
Deanna Belos - vocals on “Your New Old Apartment”
Dr. Dave Drayton, Ph.D. - lyrical assistance on “Pin”

Recorded at Shirk Studios and Type One Studios in Chicago, IL, 11.15-18.18
Mastered by Dave Downham at the Gradwell House in Haddon Heights, NJ

Illustrations by Ryan Troy Ford
Photography by Tommy Calderon
Art direction & layout by Maxwell Stern

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Signals Midwest Cleveland, Ohio

we are a punk/indie band from Cleveland, now spread throughout OH and PA. we've been doing this together since 2008. we have been lucky enough to see the world together but will still play in your kitchen or anywhere really.

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