Dark Digest

by Meadownoise

supported by
Austin Alexander
Austin Alexander thumbnail
Austin Alexander I am an unabashed, enormous fan of Meadownoise and all of Matt Glassmeyer's work. He is the man behind the man and one of the finest thinkers and musicians I've met. His Meadownoise project is symphonic and rich. Favorite track: Swimming Alone.
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

      $10 USD  or more




released August 30, 2014




Meadownoise Nashville, Tennessee

Always have a rigid paint scraper handy.

contact / help

Contact Meadownoise

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Track Name: Think Like a Monkey
Mother's gown,
like a waterfall over her round belly.
So round she strains her back to wash her face
before bed.
Think like a monkey, she said.
I will think like a monkey.

She reads about the near future.
Father writes about now.
Waiting, heaving.
A flood of experts.
Think like a monkey, she says.
So I will think like a monkey.

One day the new one will cut cantaloupe
shapes to celebrate.
Then she will wait,
she will wait,
like 40 billion before her.
Think like a monkey, she says.
So I will think like a monkey.
Track Name: Deafened by the Ring
Played some sounds for a crowd.
Ten or twelve to make us proud.
Soft at first, then medium loud.
We broke the rules, no fools allowed.

When the sappy section stopped,
came the deep and evil drone.
Some were happy and others groaned,
gouged their eyes then ran on home.

We were done, we stopped the buzz.
Dude came to the stage and asked us what it was,
made a tasteless joke, moved a heavy thing.
I bowed my head, deafened by the ring.
Track Name: Casi Mato
We took our shirts off for you to tell us from the other ones.
We saw the lightening, we felt the breeze, we pushed on through.
You shared your water. My ice was freezer-burned and plasticky.
A rush came over. I started swinging, almost killed a kid.
Casi mato.

Here come the friends. They always want in.
This games locked, this game is locked.
A rush came over, started swinging, almost killed a kid.
I smelled the pork blowing in from the house across the street.
Casi mato.

Girls are waiting, watching. We will go to them. Go to them.
Casi mato.
Track Name: Red Again
It's Tuesday. Bill and Linda bowl tonight.
Linda's hair came earlier. Red Again.
Bill keeps his ball on a stand in the guest bedroom to breath.

Linda sits and rolls on hose, relieved Mary wore her jeans.
Banana peppers and Cheetos.

Other men clap to themselves when Bill misses, like he ever misses.
Bill thinks kids have walked on the lanes but he'll never say.
Track Name: The Thrush
Just after seven this morning I saw a robin die.
There was a deep and sudden thud from the window behind my head.
It was a familiar sound, but only after the adrenaline had faded.

On its stomach, the bird breathed heavily.
Then, very slowly, it eased its head down, down, down,
sinking its beak between the deck boards, tail in the air.
It might have been a pregnant one, too fat to steer.
I know, at least, it was a big female, too fat to steer.

The heavy breathing stopped.
She sprang to her feet to face me in the window.
Staring, confused, as if pissed at me for the technology,
at herself for the error, or maybe at the one who made her pregnant.

This was a dark morning, one degree below freezing,
belly full of birds all about to die.
I came back later and she was gone.
Track Name: Swimming Alone
I fished alone on hot aluminum.
Blinded by sun, I never caught a thing fishing alone.

I watched the sisters.
Braces and bathing suits.
Horseflies and cattails.
They don't remember swimming alone.

I fired a gun into a bullet trap down in the basement next to the bomb shelter. We did not know.

House built by hand to hold a family.
It smells like man, scotch, ice and chlorophyll.
Women gone on and left a basset hound sleeping alone.
Track Name: The Actor (Tower Defense)
The actor's signing autographs.
His shaking hand can barely make a line.
The punters taking photographs
can't see his scribbled note,
"I'm running out of time."

The reception line is thinning out.
The actor racks his brain for secrets to confide.
Keep them talking long enough,
they might not see the gun that's pressed against his side.

They're marching him outside to a waiting ride.
There's nothing left to say as the limo pulls away.
Track Name: Louder Like a Microphone
When you rub my head
it feels so nice like Mom is home again.
Mom is home again.

We are sleeping nose-to-nose
because we are well-worn dominoes.
Your breath warm it heats my face and dries my eyes.
Your shower wakes me.
It smells good.

And when you talk close to my ear
it's louder like a microphone.
Louder like a microphone.
When you laugh it hurts a bit.
I'm almost sure that you don't know.
Almost sure that you don't know it hurts.
Track Name: The Bats Have Come Now
The bats have come now to flap among mosquitoes,
To save us from a spirit, a disease.
We hear of rabies.
They'll never touch a filthy human being.
They'll keep the bumps away while the munchkins play in the yard by the pond.

We breath the duckweed through our teeth.
Thank god it's natural.
Spring-fed and practical.
And if they pile up filth don't fret.
We'll spread it on the garlic and the flowers and the rhubarb.

We'll eat for free, you and me, the bats, the kids, and the owl.
Track Name: Hair Just So
In a proud, orange sweatshirt,
sitting inches in front of me,
was a five-foot-two man around 73.

Outgoing. Armed with his lines
and black foam shoes.
His frame was marked by asymmetry,
like clay folded in a box.
I stared. I always do. Still a child and a gaper.

His chin and neck were dotted with pin-sized bumps.
They seemed to cause no physical pain.
Showing the strength and resilience was the comb in his pocket
and hair just so. Hair just so.

The intercom had spoken to him for fun.
And I came close to asking for his autograph.
I let him be.

He walked off complimenting everyone
for a job well done.