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Written and recorded in February 2017 for the RPM Challenge. Each track was recorded as live free improvisations.


released February 28, 2017

Violin, poetry by Maggie Burton
Piano, effects by Chris McGee



all rights reserved


Door Lock St. John'S, Newfoundland and Labrador

We are a two member band from St. John's, Newfoundland. False Memory was recorded for the 2014 RPM Challenge.

Chris McGee: piano, guitar, percussion, electronics, vocals
Maggie Burton: violin, erhu, vocals

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Track Name: Vigilance
Carefully-spaced dogberries mark the path
to get back home, they would still be there tonight
not even the jays would eat them
not even in this time of hungry.

On my neck I carry a whistle
gold, heavy, inscribed
with my mother’s maiden

name a gift from her lover when she was still
a girl with soft arms with hair that still blew easily
in the wind before they were stiff and witch-like

I try to go home. The dogberries are gone.
I blow four times to tell her, I am lost
just as we had agreed...

blow in irregular meter don’t you make it
too obvious that you are there,
she said

toot too toooot
toooo too toot

here’s a pocket knife to whittle arrows
hide behind a tree and let it rip,

to ttttto whooooooo
also don’t ever let anyone see you
be always vigilant yes
even in these woods

haven’t you heard of Agafia Lykov
you can be a four day canoe trip
away from the nearest threat
in the middle of the Taiga
and still be woken up at night,
Track Name: Distant Porchlight
I tiptoe through the woods covering our tracks like those pups
hiding from Cruella’s cronies as we make our way next door
I am Perdita he is Lucky
when we get there
to her mother’s house

there are no toys yet we have
to get through these times of

the porchlight a disco ball
spots both still and kinetic
us moths dead or panicked

eyes glued to a distant porchlight up the hill
watching to see if he would try
to come inside
Track Name: Eyes of Children
hand-sharpened pencils,
erasers a hundred years old,
grey from rubbing out

the eyes of children who see
too much, made from actual
gum chewed up probably by us

spit out then hardened,
the pink kind that comes with a joke
like that one about a mother

who stayed behind

as her children went off to be safe
Track Name: Bottomlessness
under a skinny moon we dipped
our bodies into a shaking pond
flopping belly down into an open wound in the mountain
were mountains of visiting teens enjoying near-darkness
a mysterious place your fresh water holds heat so well

the red rocks ate them up quick and spit our
bones all over the meadow;
mosquitos having made quick work
of so much young flesh

the mosquitos fly overhead
exploding, dropping little blobs of teen blood
staining the clothes left empty on the grass

our mothers said bottomlessness
is in the pond so don’t fall in
love what you’ve got already on land
there may be more than this but
who are you to want to find it?