The record is finally here. Limited edition preorder packages are now available exclusively through initrecords. They will be available through the end of October. The packages include a CD, tee-shirt, sticker and button for $18. The tee-shirt will be a large print of the logo Aaron Horkey designed for us. A huge thanks to him for all of his work. We love the artwork and are super thankful for his interest and support!
We're doing a release weekend! Spending it with best friends. If you're in the midwest, come party.
October 30th: Milwaukee, WI
October 31st: Chicago, IL
November 1st: NW Indiana (tba w/Native!)
more winter shows should be posted soon!
Also, a big thanks to Steven for putting out our record and being a totally amazing dude with opinions on everything. Seriously, he's the shit and we really can't thank him enough. Also, thanks to Bobby Reitman, Justin Ross, Peter Murphy, Brittany Peters, Joe Lev, George Ananchev, Kristina Felske, Father Phoenix, Mans and Ann Lacy for making tours special, ridiculous and always rowdy. Listen to our friends bands. Thank you for all your support. It means the world. We're really looking forward to getting back on the road. 2009 is going to be nuts!
xo
Kelsey, Justin, Adam
KEEPONDRIFTER TRACK LISTING AND LYRICS
I. Ash Not Dust
the closer we get and the farther we spread, a step forward seems like a step back
with the underlying thoughts of clouded possibilities and uncertain futures, the scope of human attraction has diminished, with the night's last gasp we say nothing at all
good friends and good people are trapped in bottles and baggies, old habits keep resurfacing, with just words and red eyes we dance around the points we made and keep living botched lives
when we're barely awake, it's hard to realize that we keep drinking ourselves to sleep
when our words are worthless, reasons are bleak, and if the world stops with our conversations,we keep egging on the false lifelines we lead
and in the distant future when all is failed and fleeting,with what love is left,we'll keep these three hearts beating
it's not necessary to remove ourselves completely, just keep digging deep, find an unknown beauty
II. Burn The Vatican
when the familiarities caving in, spread to the fear of being seen, singling out family and loved ones, chased up by the ground beneath
the capacity for understanding now ends, hailing from pages scripted in black and white.
but no one's god can recognize their love, where's the so-called state and it's freedom? reigning down the echoes of a cross, indirect aftershock from liberty is lost
sex-ed never taught us to fight for a cause, briefed us on statistics conveying what's wrong.
love, not from a book or set of laws, quickening hearts are natural. just follow the path that you've drawn up, quickening hearts are natural.
daily beatings of lovers abroad, bruises and bloody noses are written off
yeah fuck your book,and fuck your laws, quickening hearts are natural, just stick to the path that you're on, quickening hearts are natural.
(about sexual oppression and discrimination. follow your heart. LBGT rights forever)
III. Between Long Lines
the players, the counterparts, losing their luster in a room full of mingling spirits
with it's charmers and cynics, laughing like the end was near, in tune with the order of the skies
clinking drinks, we varnish buckets and sinks, unable to stomach the trials of that which is forth coming
added to the equation, keys ignite perilous results a friend loved and lost
through which the horrors of greed are revealed
rest your head on this shoulder, patch these busted seems together
we will find issues too big to contrive
we will share our fears and pass out in unison
abandon vehicles and drive yourself to ask why we are so nervous
white cars and white crashes,the young are weak, and the younger strong
white cars and white crashes,folly
guilt ridden mess tangled,forgiveness tests us, quantified measures of worth
bars scarring students and seekers, mines of the mind, confines of foretold reality
(about a friend who was in a drunken driving crash. he was the driver. a woman was paralyzed. do not drink and drive. watch out for your friends.)
IV. Short Bus, Front Flip
It was exciting to think, about all that we could accomplish, and all that we could remember, as every Midwest interstate became more familiar.
The usual gray skies would follow us to Bloomington, then dwindle the farther south we'd go, watching the clouds pull apart like open windows.
With such fickle surroundings, in a place cold as all Hell, we feed the broadening story of just a few lifelines that cross with thousands throughout a nation where travel and expenses go hand in hand.
Keep this going, and we can tear apart the borders between us.
Interaction is the meaning behind my work. Motivation is the life behind these enclosing walls, locked in dark rooms where we create these songs.
Now written, rewritten
Now written, rewritten
Now sung, now screamed
Now felt, now kept
(to MANS, Native, Lion of the North, Lautrec, This Is Ours Fest and endless highways)
V. 9.4.06
a siren song for the misused, the web's been spun with nineteen different points
and in the center is an hiv positive target, a littler darker, a little bit deeper
we can't rewind the roll, the sequence of stillness, understand that minds couldn't forge this
a blank stare and lost focus, and it will happen again and again and again and again and again
we're cut and shaped into boundaries, force fed racist convictions
crime will transcend the lines we've made,as one side falls we pull apart, we're dominoes of polar ends
we won't turn a blind eye to those in dire need, the duty, the necessity is real
I'm sick of seeing losses in the young and promising, hearing all these uttered promises
with severity climbing and statistics rising we observe there's no end in sight
it's far from fair in one instance of disregard
I won't forget.
(about an 11 year old girl who was raped by 19 separate men and boys in september of 2006 in milwaukee)
VI. Party Awesome
the nights this winter coalesced to the point where we sat on the same gray old porch,night after night and day after day, times have been had and tears have been shed.
laughing,drinking,stumbling and shouting to the songs written by our own friends, it would be great to bring back the idea in our hearts though it counts for the rest of our lives
we kept ourselves warm sitting next to each other in that dimly lit room,from different districts all with the same love for what has been built here
So we may not know what our futures hold,but we'll hold onto this for all our lives, the times we had and love we share will never fade away
although our time was cut short and we may never know what could have been, memory won't fail me, I'll keep it fresh and new until the bitter end.
remember forever what makes us just who we are, remember forever and never give it up.
(to paige marshall, to party awesome, to a house that made a community and a family)
VII. It Is The Flash Which Appears
We've built concrete valleys around us,created close quarters, taking pride in our sterile living. As we wait for the smoke to cloud out the stars.
Now we push ourselves away from each other, no stones, but no glass houses.
just invisible barriers,downcast eyes gazing through the living room windows to the fickle dread of dying without meaning.
No echoes come with silence, no return from apathy. We are the spare parts.
We'll awake from this slumber, to a world we've barely shaped.
I can hear it start to roar, slowly creep towards every ear.
VIII.The Thunderbolt Will Follow
Gazing through the branches their lifelines circling, as they grow we grow, it's unending
we slap the hand that feeds and wonder what's happening, it's time to look up and see the sun through the trees, your spine feels the shivers and it leaves you wanting
We are the spare parts of a cause, keep every person in motion, with music in their ears.
is this what I'd want to give my kids,a mind made up or is this just a future that I'm frightened of?
Thinking of how each day is I utter "god forbid" but what do we believe in?
the walls overshadow thoughts and ideas, boxed in and disappointed, slumped shoulders, no enlightenment, half awake or half asleep.
IX. East'll Meet West Anyways
Better to get lost in the streets
Home on our minds,
Than lost at home
searching for another somewhere
in photographs and ads.
Better to stay close to the ones we love,
Than to our own selves
When we can't figure out where to go.
Oxygen is hard to come by here,
The kind that is clean
And reassuring,
That our lives are only as tranquil as we make them.
I'm smiling,
Sober with arms outstretched,
Bearing my teeth like they mean something
To someone,
Like all those ideas of bravery and pride.