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Ponderosa Snake House and the Chamber Of Bullshit

by Palette Knife

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    if Studio Ghibli and Palette Knife had a baby, it would be this shirt

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    Palette Knife flavored LaCroix, tastes kinda emo, but in a good way

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    the snake from the ponderosa snake house and the chamber of bullshit... on a hoodie - no bullshit!

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Palette Knife's new album on some baby blue vinyl that matches the album cover, no bullshit!

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Palette Knife's new album on some lemonade-flavored vinyl, take a lil taste

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    the new PK album on not one but TWO vinyl records, no bullshit!

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    lemonade (vinyl) and lacroix (ringer tee), a match made in heaven

    Includes unlimited streaming of Ponderosa Snake House and the Chamber Of Bullshit via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 5 days
    Purchasable with gift card

      $34.99 USD or more 

     

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    The PK x SG shirt + a palette (wink) cleanser of some Lemonade vinyl to wash it down

    Includes unlimited streaming of Ponderosa Snake House and the Chamber Of Bullshit via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 5 days
    Purchasable with gift card

      $34.99 USD or more 

     

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    The Album Art of the New Palette Knife Album on a Hoodie And The Vinyl To Match

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    the mega bundle of all mega bundles, which includes both shirts, the hoodie, both vinyl variants AND the CD of the new palette knife album - no bullshit I swear

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1.
Do you think that we could hack it? Pin-on hearts and denim jackets? Blow into the cartridge, start a new save, beat it quickly like an indie game? Because I’m deleting tinder and all the other ones too, I just don’t have the energy to learn someone new. You are my Estus flask, I’m gonna take you to the party, you can make me talk to strangers and feel cool. I’m always buying flowers every time the old ones die. I feel naked in the best way, drunk and it’s a Tuesday, I know that we both change—that’s okay. Ready player two, Johnson, pack your suitcase. Always an addict for nostalgia. It ages like a bottle of Andre. When I cry you start to yawn. Check one-two, is this thing on? You get bored when I laugh at you. I get sore when I start to lose. I’m sorry.
2.
Kidz In Wigz 03:04
Presidents and Assholes: The joke’s I’m too drunk to tell the difference anymore I lose. Wearing different hats, fooling around on the couch, unmotivated to leave the house. Screenshot the selfie when you send it. Love is finally no longer an incentive. Refusing to sing until I feel ignored–I might be broken but I’m banking on just bored. Would you ever sort of maybe think of me like that: A marionette incandescent in fact you were bright all along. When the curtain calls they applaud your fears. Who’s gonna take you home and hold you all those years? I’m fine just tired, can I please go home? Worried when you kiss me you will feel alone. I’m a brick wall taking up space on your couch. Unmotivated to leave the house. We’re not grown up, we just got tall. Kids in wigs, I miss fall Would you ever sort of maybe think of me like that: A marionette incandescent in fact you were bright all along. When the curtain calls they applaud your fears of taxi tears. But we dress the same, I love to feel alone today.
3.
The machinery in my chest extracting oxygen from the air you exhale. Nevermind the paper bird outside your window singing songs you thought you heard once in a dream. But you listen like it’s nicotine. And I am poisoned. And I am gone like that thing in your bathhouse.
4.
Maybe tomorrow I will think about calling you the day after tomorrow. We could go to some thrift stores and hit up some breweries in your city till we both pass out; I could sleep on your couch or somewhere else if things go that way. I drove barefoot all the way to Pittsburgh. One bloody nose from elevation that my taco bell receipt could not combat. You gave me the wrong address. Hello? Have we met before? Do I know you? It’s been a while. We’re both the same but different. I’m glad you’ll always be my friend but I’m worried you’ll always be my friend. Between water bottles filled with wine, I said I finally gave a shit about the skyline. What does this mean for our plotline? If this is it I won’t be satisfied.
5.
6.
Sorryisnore 03:04
Would you please stop showing up to my dreams half drunk/half clothed clawing at the seams of my wallpaper I carefully composed of every song I wrote for you you’ll never know? So just kick me out of the club for good. I know you wanna act cool and so misunderstood. In bed you’re shaking next to me when you should be at peace. I think I know why you’re terrified every single time you fall asleep. If this is where you draw the line just savor every lullaby and tape them in a scrapbook with the recipe I gave you. And if this is your way of finding peace, don’t pawn your guilt trip out on me. I’ll take it wherever I go, consult you when I feel alone.
7.
I wanna go out but all my friends are married and happy. This bar’s too fratty. “Except when I could be your knife guy” gradually congealed into a fear of being held. A fear of being touched. A fear I cannot weld. Gonna bite my nails. Didn’t mean to get plastered. Gonna sing myself Death Cab in the bathroom mirror in a party hat. Can I cry in the uber when you tell me to go home? I just feel so selfish when I hope that you’re alone like me on New Years Eve. This year’s resolution consists of saying “hey man, I love you” in a way that is neither cringy nor ill-timed; relearning to find comfort in intimacy; and sending you dog memes until we resemble friends again. But when the ball drops down I’m surrounded by makeout couples who will make kids. My 2020 vision insists I will be the same when I wake up. We don’t need Breakfast at Tiffany’s; if you’ve given up on me we have everything in common.
8.
Started the new year in a bed that was not my own. A stranger I’ve met several times before but still don’t know. I have dreams of a bird’s eye cityscape dissolved–a window seat monologue of a blanket covered lightbulb. You’re carving chalk graffiti in a barcade bathroom wall warning other girls don’t go home with the boy who buys you Fireball. When we came out people thought we had done things but you just cried as I rubbed your back in a handicap stall. Lily still follows you on instagram. She says that you cut your hair and changed the color once again. That’s fine, I know I sound sarcastic. You can wrap me up in plastic–hermetically sealed form you. Ashamed of what is in my flask, I one more thing to ask of you: finalize the words to keep me pacified. Your body is your alibi, delete it from my hardrive for good. Tell me his name I will kill him for you. I know it’s not my style I’m just guilty and fragile, I want something to do. That’s fine, I’m overly dramatic. You can wrap me up in plastic–hermetically sealed form you. Ashamed of what is in my flask, I have one more thing to ask of you: Fireball?
9.
Waiting for our turn signals to re-synchronize because lately photons shot from my headlights only paint your closed bedroom blinds. If we both turn left will we be alright? You write it down, you say it loud. You type it out. You write it down then cross it out. Because vine quotes just won’t cut it, road work ahead.
10.
Cross-faded on fortune cookie fortunes and seasonal depression you’ll find me in the audience of your snapchat stories twice as drunk and half as cool. Is it selfish to think that there is something wrong with me as I watch you scrape amnesia off your heels. I finally know how I made you feel. I tried once again to hold someone but I felt nothing then slept for a year. Now I don’t try to hold anyone out of fear that I might be gutted for good. I can make my own oxytocin, it’s not like I’m missing more you will always be someone I make myself a cicada for. Trying not to throw up as I fold up all your blankets and tidy up your living room; the liquid’s gone, I drank it. So scared of telling you goodbye cause I’ll hug you for way too long. The bottom line is chemistry, you catalyze the joy in me. So numb to everyone I meet. Just give it up please–hear me out now. The abstract is I couldn’t come, and facing fear I always run. Scar I gave was numbered one. Drunk with you was always fun. If you had a patronus I’m not sure what you’d do. But I’m pretty sure mine would now be that too.
11.
Logan’s in the Move-On camp, I’m in the Camp “get-it-back-even-if-it-kills me”. Sarah’s probably gonna kill me, and that’s okay because it means I’d get to see her one more time. I finally started eating again, man it’s been one hell of a weekend. You said I would regret it, you get a little bit more right every day. I think I missed my exit again, I shot gun La Croix as she beats up some boy. There is a lullaby of crickets, it is deafening and hollow. You still got my paintings on your wall. I painted you one fall. It gives me hope that we’ll be fine, we could cauterize in time. Your face in the hotel, it’s your nautilus shell. I watch you like the Brothers Elrich, transmuting my chest into a pillow. Your back carries the constellations woven by your freckled imperfections. I woke up in a groggy nauseated plight but you left because I pushed you off of me in the nighttime. Goodnight. I have the lullaby of crickets singing in my head.

about

***This Is A Pre-Order***
***Vinyl will Ship Late June/ Early July***

Palette Knife’s layered approach to songwriting and storytelling might begin as a shock. It’s a dizzying experience, one that flips channels between impassioned odes to thrifting dates and other cheapskate adventures, lamenting the person yourself or someone like you used to be, and relentless appeals to reason in a world that constantly moves the goalposts. For now, enjoy the kickoff.

Ponderosa Snake House & The Chamber Of Bullshit finds Palette Knife—guitarist/vocalist Alec Licata, bassist Chris Mcgrath, and drummer Aaron Queener—navigating the woes and wins of twenty-something Midwest life with acrobatic energy. Much of this comes from Licata’s guitar playbook that dips into everything from tapping solos to thunderous power chords, but this scholarship borrows from the past five years of emo-rock to forge something entirely its own. With tongue-in-cheek versatility and tangible relatability, Ponderosa Snake House And The Chamber Of Bullshit will be slithering your way May 28th, promising more acerbic bite with each move.

credits

released May 28, 2021

Music & Lyrics: Palette Knife
Tracking and Mixing: Jeff Martin
Mastering: John Kesler
Additional Vocals on Track 9: Snarls

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Palette Knife Columbus, Ohio

New single out now.
New LP coming spring 2021 via Take this to Heart Records

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