by Polygraphist

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Comes in a standard jewel case with full artwork done by Brian Platter of Six Shot Studios. This is an extremely short run, and will not be reprinted! NOTE: I am experiencing a slight production delay, and these will be shipping out about a week later. I apologize for any inconvenience.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Misnomer via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days

      $8 USD or more 


  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

    If you purchased the instrumental version of Misnomer, please let me know via email and I will provide you with a coupon for 50% off the finished product.
    Purchasable with gift card

      name your price




The follow up to 2011's "Nighterror", Misnomer tells the tale of a young man recovering from a mental breakdown. He loses his muse, and undertakes a trying journey to regain it.


released June 11, 2013

Sam McMillan - Instrumentation and Vocals
Dan Egner - Additional Vocals
Alex Chambers - Additional Vocals
Dave Mahoney - Additional Vocals


all rights reserved



Polygraphist Buffalo, New York

Inorganic, out of place, and unnatural arrangements. Alien abductions. Being chased. The 1920s, 50s, and 80s. Narrow hallways. Frenetics. Mood Swings. Skepticism. Cynicism. Solipsism. Pretentiousness, Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens. Hives. It doesnt stop. It never. Stops. Constant fear. An onslaught of phobic phenomena. ... more

contact / help

Contact Polygraphist

Streaming and
Download help

Shipping and returns

Redeem code

Track Name: Misnomer
How did it come to this? Look around, observe your surroundings.

Pardon my zen, but how can we become two with another if we cannot become one with ourselves?

I've become a joke. No one even turns their head; they simply laugh.
False tales on passed through the grapevine.
Things about myself I never knew.
That I'm always the last to learn.

Misinformation breeds disinterested beings.

My muse escapes me, please enlighten me.
Oh how I miss thee.
Please return, and you'll see.
I welcome you, wholeheartedly.

Yes, I do this for myself, but it's hard with a lack of support.

My muse escapes me, I welcome you back wholeheartedly.

I don't know anymore… but after all, isn't "knowing" just a misnomer?

Let's examine the facts.
Let's examine them

Check your sources and let's examine the facts.
Let's examine the facts.
Let's examine them.

Now, admit your mistakes.
Track Name: An Genius
This isn't working.
And people are starting to smell decay.
Only goal? Another chance.

This isn't working.
And people are starting to notice.
Mensa status? I fucking wish.

I've been falling towards rock bottom so fast, the ground is running, screaming in terror.
It doesn't have time to brace for the impact.
Fault lines formed, the earth shook, tides have shifted.

Scribbles on random post it notes, ramblings into a tape deck, half conscious ideas that fall asleep.

And nothing to show for it, oh no there ain't, there's nothing to show for it.
Not anymore.

Has it come to this, it's fucking come to this.
Oh holy fucking tits, so goddamn eloquent,
Fuck… it's come to this?
Yeah. It's come to this.

It's time for a change, yeah .
Let's mark, let's mark a new chapter in this horrible story, right before your eyes.

Wait, I've got this.
Dammit, I'm an genius!
Wait… that's not it.

I need my muse, need to be fixed,
or I'll fall, to disgrace, laughingstock, no saving face.

I've got to wake up.
I've got to start anew,
I've got to wake up right before your eyes.

Good morning, love.
Track Name: In Triplicate
One, two, three
Oh, oh, oh hey there friends, we've been here before, five, six,
I've wrote these songs again, in dupli-- no triplicate.
In triplicate, in triplicate, in triplicate.

I need copies, like… 2003.. A S A P.
Stamped, signed and sealed, and finally delivered.

Now what can we do but wait?
File, collate, hole-punch, staple?

Endless, cyclic motions.
We see nothing but repeats.
Endless, cyclic motions?

Trapped inside this cubicle, no view but this 8x8 cell.

So, climb climb down into this whole that you helped me dig,
Don't be a twat, please, come keep me company!

No more copies! Please, something I haven't seen?

Breaking down these walls?
I think not..
Printing the same shit on different colored paper isn't fooling anyone.

So... stop the presses.

I can't tell you how sick of this shit I am. I am? I am so done.
Cut it out, quit it, be different.
Do it, distance, fix this, and roll it out.

I don't know why, I don't know why, I don't wanna know why
We're stuck in this mediocrity.
I don't know why someone won't break out and do something interesting.

Don't get me wrong.. you can count on me, no matter what, when you need a hand.
Won't turn my back, cover shifts, tell friends
I just need something new to ride in on this caravan.

Together, we can reach the top of this company.
Track Name: Waterman Butterfly Projection
Last night, I needed to clear my head.
I decided to traverse, traverse the map.
Just my luck, it rained.

I rode for miles and miles and..
Before I came to an empty field.

Filled with muck and despair..
Yet I was drawn to it.
It spoke to me.

It spoke.
They spoke to me.

It all happened so fast.
A splitting pain shot through my skull.
A grinding, grinding lullabye.
Hauntingly beautiful.
Suddenly voices fill my head.

They speak calmly, they sooth the mind.
"Do! Make! Create!"
The sound of inspiration,
resurrected my passion.

They instructed me.

It ended with a bang.
I've never seen nothing brighter, heard nothing louder.

A jolt right to the back. Lightning struck.
Fuck me, it fucked me.
Bone rattling, yet oddly refreshing.
Fuck me, I can now see.

First time in my life I've seen clearly.
I see, clearly.
Yeah, it will leave a mark, but I can learn to love it.
Track Name: Widdershins
Right, it ain't right, it ain't right, we're all out of time.
There's no time, to swerve, to avoid, collide.
We collide, and the only way out is to climb,
We won't climb.
Oceanic bliss is divine.

These ideals collapse quicker than moist cardboard.

We live for shit.
"C'mon now bro, you can do better than that."

Come, discuss me.
Cum, disgust me.
Track Name: Solipsism
This clarity is startling, yeah
I can see it all clearly again.
So vivid.
These words and sounds weave together on a loom.
These words and sounds weave together.

The beings spoke to me again last night.
The message is crystal clear.. like new vinyl played with a new needle.
No cracks or stops, no hiss and pop.
Unadulterated art.

"We'll bring forth a new era," they said, they said.
"And you will be the catalyst."

When my mind could wander, I used to imagine...

"I'll bring forth a new era," I said, I dread
"And you will be my assistance".

When my mind could wander, I used to imagine...

I used to imagine I was the only real one,
And everyone else was some sort of android..
The only thing that I was sure of was my own existence.

Learn, love, savor it, savor it.
Learn from these mentors.
I will savor it, no severance.
I am your disciple.

These beings, they exist.
(No longer a child)..
They exist for one sole purpose --
They act as our muse; show us how to create.
Inspiration for all artists.

They speak to us all.. we can all hear them,
but why can I see them when no one else can?
Track Name: French Canadian Machines
And so it began.
I churned it out like a machine.
I drew them up like a printing press.

This music has no soul, nothing, it's robotic.
Mechanic. inorganic.
Organized, yet chaotic.

And even if these beings had feelings, free will and thought, beating hearts,
They wouldn't mind the reality of these observations --
They wouldn't have it any way else.

If you have questions, comments, or concerns, please direct them to the machines.

I am just a vessel for their creations. I just relay their messages.

So please, fill out this card and place it in the comments box
and they'll process it as soon as they can.

They contemplate each request.
Cherish their work,
Or lose them.

They will never die, only rust.
They may short out, but only briefly.
They will not stop.
They will not cease, only pause, persistence.

Powered by static.

Entropy, at your feet. Atrophy.
Alchemic galaxy.

And so it begins, they'll churn them out.
We'll churn them out.

If these machines began to breathe,
Then I'd accept the new regime.
Open your eyes
You love all they oversee.
Track Name: Stepped On Moustache
I had a dream the other night:
So vivid it could've been real.

They took me somewhere new. Drugged me and dragged me.

I'm pretty sure I'm stuck standing somewhere between purgatory and the golden gate bridge.
I see lots of orange paint and blinding white light.
Thrift stores and un-babitized babies, yeah.
Crystal clear oceans and distant lakes of fire
Coffee shops, a whore, and a giant giant.

Fuck. I've melted into this metallic structure
My matter has fused with my surroundings. we've become one.

But why would I complain..? (I won't) I must say, it's quite the fucking view, yeah.

What elegant foreshadowing.
This is my birthplace.
Born inside steel.

My metal brethren, together, we've risen to the top.
Oh jesus, all these pieces, assembled them like a puzzle.
With the help of the overseers, I've again risen to the top.
I can now look at my kingdom and smile.
Now smile.

I am one with the machines.
I am two with the machines.
I am three with the machines,
I am for the machines, please me.
Track Name: Fortunately, I Keep My Feathers Numbered...
And it appears I may have spoke to soon..
Sensory overload.
My feathers have been ruffled.

We will all crash, it's all come crashing down.
I'm staring, wide eyed, I'm glaring.

We stomped too hard on that glass ceiling; I should've warned you..

Oh wait, I think I did.
Oh yeah, I think I did, I know I did.

Or was it words of encouragement?
Subtle prodding? Reverse psychology?
Maybe I did beg for this.. oh well...
My mistake.

They're descending, they're preparing to feast on our bounty.

Did I take it for granted? No…
Is this a punishment? Probably.
I thought I paid them their dues.
But I guess it wasn't enough.
Oh, no no.
We've come full fuckin' circle.

The tides have turned from me.
Oh yeah.
People don't look at me the same way that they used to.

They laugh.
It's back to the way, the way that it used to be.
I thought we we're done with this shit.

Fuck it, I tried.
Time to look for a new job…
I need some help.
Let's try some more smoke signals.

Please, love, save yourself.
Track Name: Swarm Pt. II
Seriously? I've been sending, sending out these goddamn signals for months.
Are you all fucking deaf? I need help. This isn't a police song. I'm not the Beatles.

Help help help, fucking help!

I've been talking to myself again, my responses grow, my eyes are widening.
I've been fighting, in my dreams again, mysterious man, his words; reality.
I've been arguing in my sleep again, subliminal self, subconscious clarity.
I've been brawling in my dreams again, many punches thrown, nothing but glancing blows.

I've been missing for days, and time dilates worse than my pupils.
Will anyone respond to my pleas? I beg you, please?
Track Name: Knock's Boxes
To answer my previous question: No.
Please allow this metaphor.

I've been hired at a box factory.
Knock's Boxes, Inc.
We make very large boxes and sell them to a company who makes smaller boxes, who then ship theirs around the world.
Odd how they just don't make their own...

We sell them to Lee Singh.
Lee Singh then sells his boxes to the masses.
Lee Singh The Packing King.

We take their shit..
And we pack it all in.

Company slogan: Think outside the box.
Arranging, bracing, condensing, packaging.

Clever irony.

Why can't I think outside this box.
I made the box, I am in this box.
I am this box , I made my box and now I must sleep in it.
Track Name: Lichtenberg Scars
I just received a transmission from them.
A startling package.
Holy fucking shit.

It arrived, ironically, in one of my own boxes.
But the contents rattle, rattle my very being.
Or lack thereof.

It wasn't just lightning.
It wasn't just a message.

It was more than that.
It was my activation.
The beginning of my pulse.

A jumpstart, to charge my battery.
Blank stare, update my firmware.

That's why they came in so clear.
I am one of them.
A muse. An overseer.
I am not meant to create.

This can't be real.
I am meant to help create.

It was my training. I am one of them. One of them.

This can't be real.
I can't be unreal.

This is straight out of a shitty science fiction novel.

This can't be real.
I can't be unreal?

If you like Polygraphist, you may also like: