by overo

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released June 13, 2019

Preorder (USA) vinyl via Middle-man Records: middlemanrecords.storenvy.com/collections/38349-all-products/products/28012539-overo-s-t-lp

Vinyl co-release with strictly no capital letters (UK), LilacSky (NO), Count Your Lucky Stars Records (US), and Pundonor Records (ES).

UK cassette buyers, please purchase from ripcordrecords.bandcamp.com to save shipping costs.

Recorded by Chris Ryan in Houston on March 23rd and 24th, 2019.
Mastered by Joe Caithness.
Overo is:
Brendan - guitar/vocals
Mercy - bass
John - drums
Lindsay - guitar, vocals

Cello on "Summer Wheat" and "Joseph" performed by Robert Smith.
Untitled poem during "Interlude" written and read by Devereux Fortuna.
Album artwork by Kyle McPartlin.


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overo Houston, Texas



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Track Name: The Dead
Ink on the skin again
to remember
what you want to forget.
But they'll never breathe again
no matter how close you get.

I learned to live with panic
deep beneath my lungs.
Unfamiliar roadways connected me to
flatlined pulses and you.

Oh God,
the blood lines stretched for miles, but there was nothing I could do.
I waited for the song to end so I could finally scream
with my most desperate sound--this is our town.

Ink on the skin again
so I won’t forget.
Ink on the skin again.
We won't forget.

I learned to live with panic
deep beneath my lungs.
That night trauma gave me a home,
but I still lost a piece of my soul.
Track Name: Constellations
You change you change you change.
Why can't you stay the same?
You stay you stay you stay.
Why can't you stay away?

I still think about
our make believe constellations--
“the papery hands,”
“the gnarled branch,” “the tendril in the night.”

I don’t know
if you remember any of this.
Just a moment
in another sky that was too cluttered, too bright.

If only I could forget everything about you.
Track Name: Pact
When I die I hope I'm alone.
I was too young when I sold my soul.
I carried the cross into the room.
I wore incense as my first perfume.

When I die I hope I’m alone.
I was too young when I sold my soul.
Since then I’ve lived in silence watching wind eat away my skin
while waiting for the end.

This is how I learned to doubt
my life of useless lungs.

Somewhere in this bonehouse I live.
But I’m all alone.
And I sold my soul.
Track Name: Summer Wheat
We once lay
in summer wheat
making promises
we couldn’t keep.

A lifetime
used to feel long.
We said that
we’d stay that way.

But you changed right before my eyes.
Track Name: Interlude
[...] the brain is really reaching. I see it, bloody [...] whitish. The layer of skull then skill like a geological map. The brain in itself like a person is thinking it’s made progress getting out but it’s sitting there motionless. It has no way of enacting its will. I want to reach my thumb and squinch into it.
[...] I feel a little disturbed but also glad. I still myself perfectly before myself, the sitting and skin peeled. My skull missing a chunk. Now I kick myself in the neck but my foot comes out past it like I don’t believe myself. [...]
Track Name: Pine and Black Oak
Put me
in the middle
of the
place we used to be

But we have an ocean between us.

The forest is cold here.
A canopy
of pine and black oak
blankets the mountains.
The fog hasn’t lifted
as I go to the lake,
and let the water
suspend me.
I swear this spot
once meant everything;
I lived for that feeling.
but now I feel nothing,

and that makes me terrified.

Put me
in the middle.
Track Name: Dark Eyes
Most days I feel like I’m going to plummet.

I hear your mouth saying words
right into my ears.

I never forget that I live in a void
that doesn’t even notice that I’m here.

I hear you in my head all the time,
but I never get to see you with my eyes.

We are the voice
that shouts back at the void.

I can't see light
with these dark eyes.
Track Name: Diffraction
We amalgamate
with grace--
like shadow puppets.

All this beauty from
filtered light and dust--
like a piece of us.

I don’t think I can take it.
Track Name: Joseph
The ground is cold.
You’re home now.
We put a blanket on you.

I didn't understand
the power of my hands
till I scratched your head
on that September day.

I couldn’t breathe when I saw the line
outside waiting
just to say goodbye.
How could that thing
sleeping in a casket once be alive?
But that was never
really you. You were in the music.
You were in the air.

And you sang about butterflies.

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