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Lower Automation

by Lower Automation

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    Pink 12"

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    Hand-dipped cassette from Zegema Beach Records. In clear or orange cases.

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1.
New name for an old cage to trample on brain waves. Sugar pill for vintage skin tempts plastic fate. The calendars will tell you what you are. Calipers to define the empty space for dissonance relief. Colors fade to Bedlam, there’s nothing left to reason. No scores to frame. Colors fade to Bedlam, there’s nothing left to reason. The past has left you with dirty fingers and excuses, but it’s high tide and there’s no one left to blame.
2.
Past prime and never was I close to the pictures and pipelines you formed. Barrel-chested voice, wrap around my dainty wrists and resonate. All your hooks inside, pull me along for your ride. I'm your bleeding son. I am your broken son, unaligned. Drag me behind. I cast a lure, never cleaned the guts. I tried to follow, but couldn't match your stride. The mountains you move crane necks measured against the mounds I've shuffled around. My target's in flux, your shadow stands unwavering. Birthright cologne and arsenals couldn't keep you down, old man. I'm under the weight of band-aids and aspirin strapped to my breaking back. I'll never walk far enough.
3.
Paper Cuts 02:14
Anesthetic to vocal throne returns the midnight that birthed our bones, here to shatter. Walking targets. We’re writing out scripts in dead tongues. They’re all turning away. We’re leeching ourselves dry. They’re all turning away. That we could recant Hell, the setting sun on this vigilante town we’re back-renting ourselves from to repel the midnight turn. Here to shatter. Walking targets. We’re writing out scripts in dead tongues. We’re leeching ourselves dry. 50/50 I’m a walking dead man.
4.
Catch the wrong end of the knife. Breathe in the swarm. It’s too late in the day to recalibrate, relocate Hollywood to the backyard and farm new saviors. We’re lost in red tape like spotlights in acid rain. We’re building bombs under Levitical Law. Assembly lines melt in monochrome. If it’s too late in the day to recalibrate, let momentum sweep the dust away. Call the game. Give me something that breathes. Give me a reason, seasons, or let me go.
5.
Old Sparky 02:54
The wire swings the man just a little further out to the right. He knows not what he’s done. There’s no recourse to fight back. Behind the two-way glass, you’ll find yourself the passive inductor. You’ll wish a plague upon his head. All red palms will be avenged. Swing the rope. This broken face, our mirror: Take it away. Take it under while we’re sleeping. Let the jury hang on wilting bones. After midnight, we don’t answer the phone. Further and further over time, our eyes anchor to the right. Swing the rope. This broken face, our mirror: Take it away. Take it under while we’re sleeping. Let the jury hang. I’ve never seen myself.
6.
12-gauge laugh track with licensed forehead stares us down. Bereaved binary - sudden digital clips. Forced into rerun oblivion. There was supposed to be… a table turned, a crown reversed, a shattering. Beaming signals, handed down. Posturing to your own reflection. You are everything. Everyone is you.
7.
Dread 01:54
Hissing analog static - the dulled organs of a wedding ring. Hung refuse dangling from a living room tress. The cycle is relieved through a hole in the head. Rotting vanities. False walls abbreviating. The prognosis weighs a thousand bricks on my chest. This end was built into me.
8.
Balding man would like to procure a cure for his shadow and his stomach ache. Hypothesis on a burner to the boiling point, he traps the past like rats With splendid tumors, sweetly placed. The license to erase for knowing’s sake. Licentious to erase for capture’s sake. The line is easy to cross. Numbers pour in to dead veins in his graying skin. Save this white liberal from his curiosity.
9.
Combover 01:43
Gavel to gavel, silkscreens of fire. Your voice haunted, the same way ice melts on, traces bare skin for the siphons, the short-attentioned press. No shade for the obelisk. Desert flesh on a stick for all to see. All around the podium that your lungs inflated, your cities and all their vagrants burn.
10.
Ruiner 02:18
Masticator, you swallow everything. The topography shifts with your breath and spit. So breathe and spit. We’re flooded by the waves of your tongue. We run until bones begrudge under the weight of what they haven’t done. Ruin me, so I can’t see your hand working against your bitter offspring. Ruin me, so I can’t hear you breathing, so I stop dreaming of your sharp teeth on my back. So I can finally accede, it was never up to me.

about

In August 2020, we sealed ourselves in a secluded cabin in Western Michigan to record our first full length. Our frenzied sessions lasted until the very last second of our rental agreement. The result is a collection of fast, ugly, and loud songs.


Vinyl and Tapes available through Zegema Beach Records
12” vinyl /225, 100 on Opaque Salmon Mix, 100 on Nebula, and 25 Wax Mage. Includes insert.

Cassette /54, 25 on swirl w/orange case (ZBR edition), 25 on swirl w/clear case (band edition) and 4 test dips with matching swirl case.

Buy from Zegema Beach Records:

U.S.A. store = www.zbrusa.com/products/last

Canada/International = www.zegemabeachrecords.com/zegema-beach-releases/last

"The Chicago trio Lower Automation makes a frantic, unhinged form of punk rock... there’s a feverish, stir-crazy energy to the music." Stereogum.com

"As a debut LP, I could hardly expect more from Lower Automation, and even a cursory run through the band’s back catalog confirms that Lower Automation are poised to become one of the premiere bands in the greater mathcore metropolitan area." - Angrymetalguy.com

"There are many reasons Chicago’s Lower Automation deserve praise. Definitely towards the top of that list is their building of a wheel in which Botch, Wire, DEVO, KEN Mode, Nation of Ulysses, At the Drive-in and the Dillinger Escape Plan comprise the spokes before it gets punctured by a spike strip built by The Locust." - Decibelmagazine.com

credits

released July 1, 2021

Recorded in an isolated cabin in Michigan, August 2020.
Mixed by Derek Allen
Mastered by Collin Jordan at the Boiler Room
Cover Art by Kyle Calvert Design with additional designs from Igor Imbu
Tape Art by Grim (@nevercollage)

Drums - Andy
Bass - Brian
Guitar, Vocals - Derek

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Lower Automation Illinois

Noise-adjacent mathpunk from Illinois.

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