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the whaler

by Home Is Where

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1.
skin meadow 05:17
kites & intestines  tangled in branches,  i’m spilling my guts  to the gutless. stitch the sky to treetops, i talk my stomach in knots.  there’s no room on the roadside  for any more memorials.  Lord, i reject regret  & repent for getting so forgetful.  forgive me for giving a shit.  i’m looking forward to looking back on this.
2.
got my finger in the picture i was taking. jumping in apartment complex swimming pools fully clothed. pullin weeds out of yr spine & all our lawns are cut the same length. the hangman brought flowers to the execution, we were fed our first communion but the bread returned to flesh as we chewed, & boy we chewed. well, the whales come one by one to die at my hand. i am the whaler. earn your urn.
3.
her wedding dress was sewn from semen she spat into her hands, screamin’:  i do, i do! trading flesh for flypaper, & armed to the dentures, we don a regalia  of useless genitalia.  & closing the bible,  the minister smiled: “you may now kiss the bride.” & they stood and stared for a while as husband & wife squishing mosquitoes  all along their arms then drove on home  in separate cars. 
4.
an all knowing God doesn’t know what it’s like to not know anything at all. i can do everything God can’t—goddamn. past the sky there’s more sky. past the sky there is more sky. there’s nothing more  i’d rather be doing than nothing at all.
5.
feed yourself yr own stomach again & again. couldn’t keep it down, couldn’t stomach it. you’re your own tapeworm. & God’s in heaven where He’s safe from us. everyday feels like 9/11. we’re never gettin to heaven. this counterfeit reality, a perfect copy of a forgery. & after all these years i still look a lot like me. you’re your own tapeworm: every night, sunlight moonlights as moonlight. mirrors mirroring mirrors; teeth growing under teeth.
6.
9/12 01:49
and on september 12th, 2001 everyone went back to work.
7.
daytona 500 03:44
animal control came to collect last night’s roadkill from the roadside, where fathers of drunk drivers plant a cross for their loss when the wreck is hauled off. i saw dale earnhardt pushin a shoppin cart from the wal-mart on the tracks of daytona speedway. heard him say, “the first to lose the race always comes in second place.” severed antlers wrapped around a fence, elk harvest yr headlamps for organs. you keep a deer shot dead in yr tuck bed & lips knitted kissin like pigeons shittin on windshields. i saw dale earnhardt feedin ducks by the pond all of his spare change. & below billboards, lit through the night, i keep checking the time to see if it’s still there. “i always end up startin over again. the end of the world is taking forever.”
8.
chris farley 02:06
a garden grows over yr bones buried in the backyard as if new skin. of leaf rakes & rattlesnakes, we make a beautiful pile of leaves. i’m the last to know what i’m saying. i have forgotten more than ive learned. i am an idiot. it is said with an embarrassing sincerity: no one unloved.
9.
there’s no room in the ground for us, swimming pool’s filled with a thousand drowned bucks. a raccoon crushed in a garbage truck & you blush as you skin the hunt. i’m trying to show you i’m trying. the tv’s on but no one’s home, we see it glow through windows. release yr kill back to the wild; i am an asshole / i am an only child. had to put down the dog today, tell the children he ran away.
10.
red tide skyline; every whale in the sea washes up to my feet fully flensed & barely breathing— i am the whaler, i’ve outgrown these innards. i am the whaler, cleaning guts from gutters. i am the whaler, our vertebrae’s tethered. i am the whaler, look! here come the buzzards. climbing trees older than anyone alive: we braid our intestines together, spitting teeth into each other’s mouths back and forth until we make a smile.

about

Home Is Where make anxiety-riddled but cathartic rock songs about the apocalypse. the whaler—the Palm Coast, Florida quartet’s ambitious and exhilarating sophomore full-length—is a concept record about getting used to things getting worse. Across 10 interconnected but self-contained songs, the album captures the desensitization and disorientation of tragedy becoming mundane. the whaler, produced by Jack Shirley (Joyce Manor, Deafheaven) at Atomic Garden in Oakland, CA, marks an unmistakable new chapter for frontwoman Brandon MacDonald’s songwriting, subverting the expectations left by her band’s 2021 debut LP I Became Birds for something equally resonant, but darker and more expansive. While the whaler paints a bleak picture of a world in an endless state of collapse–of ruined utopias and desperate people faking normalcy–there’s a humanity-affirming undercurrent throughout that screams to break free.

credits

released June 16, 2023

Merch and Pre-orders: waxbodega.com

//

all music written by home is where / all lyrics written by brandon
produced, mixed, & mastered by jack shirley at atomic garden east
released by wax bodega
WAX-027


home is where is


josiah gardella - drums, tambourine, backing vox
tilley komorny - guitar, piano, organ, backing vox, banjo, tambourine, jingle bells, mandolin fingers, tape loops, breaking stuff
brandon macdonald - tantrum, harmonica, singing saw, piano, organ, tambourine, jingle bells, mandolin bow, tape loops, breaking stuff
connor o’brien - bass, tambourine, backing vox, breaking stuff


home is where is also sometimes


evan bailey - piano
brian lockrem - trumpet
foster miller - album art
zak nirenberg - trombone, backing vox
dan pot - pedal steel
jack shirley - production, tape loops
shannon taylor - backing vox
joey tobin - documentation, field recordings, breaking stuff

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about

Home Is Where Palm Coast, Florida

our band could be
yr neighborhood.
home is where forever

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