by Lionel Pryor

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Written by Lionel Pryor
Produced by LP and Kevin Antreassian
Recorded and Engineered at Backroom Studios in Rockaway, NJ by Kevin Antreassian
Assistant Engineer by Scot Moriarty


released April 1, 2013

Zakk Gilbert : Guitar
Andy Longo : Bass / Piano / Keyboard
Mike Coviello : Drums

Special Guest Keyboard / Synth : Anthony Gobeille of Impossible Voyage
Special Guest Violin : Tory Anne Daines of Those Mocking Birds
Special Guest Guitar Solo : Anthony Gonzalez
Words Written and Spoken by : Nardi
Design and Layout : Len Longo



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Lionel Pryor Hasbrouck Heights, New Jersey

Lionel Pryor, is a three piece progressive instrumental experimental band from northern New Jersey, who have one intention: Melting Faces. Teetering on the brink of many genres but conforming to none. LP paints a picture which only only your mind can perceive. Let your consciousness be set free to the eargasmic sounds of Lionel Pryor. ... more

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Track Name: Falling Higher
When I was a child I was terrified of the moon. That glob of grey and white ghoul face, gaping mouth screaming, empty eyes staring out over the night sky. I would wait for the phases, watch the black shield roll over that horrible, glimmering, frozen visage, slowly hiding the hideous head, letting the nights grow darker, and letting me sleep a little longer. But that was before the black night betrayed me. They came down from the dark new moon: those devils, those machine men in their masks, their lanterns burning, their guns chewing through bodies like dogs at shivering lambs. The bombs that followed brought the world to its knees. And that was the beginning of the end. I think about the flashing fire here, and I’m there in the dark and falling higher.
Track Name: Azhdahak
There’s all dust on the ground; the grey dust is green at night.
I would wait for the phases, watch the black shield roll over that horrible, glimmering, frozen visage, slowly hiding the hideous head, letting the nights grow darker, and letting me sleep a little longer.
Why Not
Track Name: Tin Casket
We don’t talk much anymore. I’m inside me. My body is a pool of rain. Idle in my cave, I speculate and worry. I don’t know if I’m here or there. Visions in the clouds. I’m back home, warm—I’m strapped in a can, tin casket on a nevermore trip. I think I see things in the air: little flickers or glitter. I hear them speaking (to me or to each other). They static-chatter and mumble. They’re mocking me, I know. And that’s why I’m leaving—that’s why I left. I figured out a plan. I write it all in code, try to trick their code. But if I’m just code then maybe I can’t hide. Can’t hide from the face in the moon, so I might as well go up to it. If my brain just cooks then I’m free, but if it’s all in the code then I’m one more sequence, a step/misstep approaching the inevitable singularity.
Track Name: Content
How are you feeling?
I don’t know...
How can you not know?
It hurts.
What part? The knowing or these things all around? Your brain and arms...
More the knowing...
The not knowing. More to know. Giving up...
Now it’s my arms. My heart. They say you can feel your heart in your arm. ...If you’re dying.
Who says that?
I don’t know.
How can you not know?
I like sitting here, I think, looking out at the whole everything...
The hole nothing. It’s so deep.
Or are you that shallow.
I can see it all pixelated, you know.
The colors in the void, little sparkles of blue and red, just like in the air.
If you watch them close they pass in front of each other and mix up.
I can feel my stomach like water. I’m like a pool of water.
Can I be that way?
Water don’t walk.
What would it be like if I stepped out there?
Could I suck in the cold black empty metal like pixels of air?
Why not?
There’s no air out there.
I can feel it all on my skin, like electricity.
Your veins are like wires.
You’d burst like a lemon in a hot cruel hand. Like a god hand.
All frozen, the blue cracks in my skin would turn black, and I’d fade...
If it’s all fake... Like a dream... What god would make this kind of machine.
Out there or in here? Which machine?
The machine is dreaming in a machine’s dream...
It has to end.
A step approaching singularity...
Ah, it’s like a sigh.
Relief? How?
I can see you in my hands so I can’t cover my eyes.
I would scream but no one would hear me.
There is no sanctuary.
The moon is cold.
No one is near me.
Sometimes you peer through it like a thin curtain.
Not me. Not anything.
But still everything.
I think I’ll grow a mustache.

Track Name: Exploring the Wonders of the Invisible World
I’ve got my machine. Machine build machine build machine. It flaps and twists just enough to get up through the misty clouds. There’s all dust on the ground; the grey dust is green at night. I look back down, as I loom, look back over the green Earth. Not green like pastures but a glowing disaster area. Radiation is the pixels fleeing, ashamed. I’ll confront the ghoul-face moon, from a hundred thousand miles away. I don’t know if it’s January or June, tripping out in space. The walls are a pool of rain. The universe is like a clam shell on my mind—it melds with metal, making me into misery. A shipwreck on a black blanket star-map inside a processor, inside a father’s chest, inside a thought draped like a shadow cast by frozen breath. 0101001110000000