Nighterror

by Polygraphist

supported by
Dann 'the djentle giant'
Dann 'the djentle giant' thumbnail
Dann 'the djentle giant' The fact that Polygraphist is a one-man band is simply amazing and unconceivable to say the least. With a jazz-metal structure and a blend of death metal growls and double bass-drum blasts, the whole could seem to clash at first. But no, this doesn't clash at all. It's just orgasm for the ear and the brain. Definitely a must for jazz-metal and prog lovers. Favorite track: Hands Drawing Hands.
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about

An alien abduction. A swarm of insects chasing you down a narrow hallway. Jarring. Organically mechanic.

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released September 6, 2011

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about

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

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Track Name: (In Retrospect) Correlations
free will stands as the greatest prize thats bestowed unto us.
reflections, in retrospect, look so sincere
silently screaming obscenities, teeth gleaming

then… leaning towards calmer confessions..
(as we look back) hopeless regressions

we all chase freedom..
(as we look back) everything's clear

looking back, its all crystal
through the looking glass we all see clear

why…?
wizened old clerics, huddled in masses, whispering tales of societies coming demise
wizened old clerics, huddled in masses, whispering old wives tales, warnings, fears and advice

meanwhile…
i send my thoughts in bits and pieces, all for naught,
i send my thoughts in bits and pieces, these bytes become secretions

looking back is the greatest skill that we have,
and in 2020, everything will be hindsight
Track Name: Stanley Uris
these are my greatest of fears…
phobic pathologies are indiscriminately carving paths towards bedridden decades

fight or flight; my ruler, im slaved

fears.. face them or fuck them, no one will judge your choice
but don't take the easy way out..

i, the cyberchondriac! diagnosed in style.

man, no matter what he faces, has the right to play god.
endure and conquer them

disillusioned? paranoias?
stay in touch.. latch on to whats real

we all float down here.
and the monsters are due on maple street.
Track Name: Tyrants
run face first at the invisible wall, enjoy the taste of blood
stomp on the glass ceiling, burn the whole castle down
its just a mad rush to the far end of the checkerboard

king me

and then..
plates full, cups overflow
these goblets hold the blood of christ, of mice and men

of mice...
no one would say we're the skinniest of felines

these peasants pray for rain to wash away the shit,
archaic idioms floating to the heavens.
begging, pleading

meanwhile the meek silently plot an uprising

and i stand here obliviously smiling
Track Name: Hands Drawing Hands
when hands draw hands the end results are nothing you would dare call a masterpiece

her spindled fingers, a sickly green hue; her palms, red, tell tales of torture

when hands draw hands the end result is nothing you would write home about, or dare call a work of art

my cufflinks look great next to your neck.. accents the blues…
oh shit! squeezed a bit too tightly there, love.
graphite dust surrounds your pretty wrists like a police crime scene mapping out just where you lay when i "drew you"

we've come this far so why give up now?

burn down the bridges, you ain't going back

all that time drawing? it never got you very far..
and now you're running? (faster)
you'll never make it very far.

put down the pencils, in not too long you'll be home

let's be honest, an artist i am not.
vicious cycle, let's call it a draw.

cut the metaphors.. you are a whore, worthless with no self-reliance.

i shade all lines.
i tried, benevolently, to resolve all of our problems.

endless cyclic motions bring us right on back to a colorful start
you'd think we'd learn from our past experiences but i just love to color outside the lines.
endless cyclic motions bring us right back
Track Name: The Vicereine
instrumental
Track Name: Swarm
instrumental
Track Name: Whiteout
two days trapped, up to our necks,
china white encases the whole village
frozen footsteps track a path to nothingness
silenty walking towards ambivalence

our day is done, nothing left to do but inflame

stark red blood paints the tundra
we've traveled days and miles
so far we've frozen
so far we've just frozen

the drifts reflect nothing but blinding light
contracted bloodvessels ache with every movement

march on, fuck this noise.
southern eyes would burst

would you kindly throw the salt and dig us out?

no matter what we try we just dig our selves deeper
Track Name: Bruxism
my tongue is so far in my cheek, im afraid it may tear through (grinding)
such a bitter taste with an ever so subtle hint of sweet (grinding)
i exhaust a fine ceramic powder
my teeth have been whittled down, the end of what we have all become

these occlusal traumas, on the surface, are only signs of night after night of restless sleep, punctuated by terror and anxiety.
but the stories these remnants tell will become legend.

grinding… grinding….
grinding and grinding and shredding and gnawing and tearing and ripping these little nubs flying and sawing through blackness, endlessly eroding. enamel breaks down. fuck, my mouth is corroding.
bruxism enfolding

preachers reach deaf ears, and actions speak louder than words
so let the music scream, and leave the singing to the birds

sawing and pounding and filing and scraping and sanding, abrasively clawing. my jawbone is sliding, my temples are pounding. these ivory pestles, crushing and crumbling, bruxism enfolding.
Track Name: The Apologist
with all the bullshit that i spew forth, none of it really compares
to the stream of apologies i relentlessly
and needlessly pour unto others
as a defense mechanism.

unto you. you lied, i stayed

i'm so sorry,
i'm so fucking sorry

wait, fuck that.
i'm not really. fuck that shit.
i got you though!
you walked right back in, didn't you?

this just..? this took a turn for the hilarious,
and i'm…? i'm just the ass? i'm the ass of this joke?

whatever bitch, suck that dick like the pro you are

fuck off bitch, i'm not sorry
i lied, we played

this just..? this took a turn for the hilarious,
and i'm…? i'm just the ass? i'm the ass of this joke?

i'm sorry
i'm not sorry
i'm not sorry anymore