by Dérive

supported by
  • Streaming + Download

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

      name your price




A.) Disconnected Catacombs is a different from version from the one on "Dig Me A Grave"
B.) Third song title stolen from Charles Bukowski.
C.) They Can Have The Stage . . . is a new version of the same song from the "Fractures" EP in 2012.


released March 9, 2016

Paul DeGrandpre = Drums, Voice
Noah Jacques = Bass
Greg Nahabedian = Keyboard, Accordion, Acoustic Guitar, Voice
Paul Schmelz = Guitar, Voice

Lyrics by Greg Nahabedian
Art by Greg Nahabedian and Sara Green
Recorded and mixed by Paul Schmelz sometime in early 2015
Mastered by Tyler Bisson at Audio Geography



all rights reserved


Dérive Westfield, Massachusetts

contact / help

Contact Dérive

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Track Name: Labelmaker
You tried to steal the stones from a mountain and now it’s all toppling down.

You tried to compress the sunset and keep it on a flash drive
You tried to condense the oceans and then and you tried to zip the sky
And when the ground rose up and said for the love of god relax
You boiled its blood to make flaming discs of wax

How’s the prick of the knife under your skin?
How’s the years of your life in a bottle of gin?
We’re outside! We’re outside!

How’s the loss of blood stopping your throat?
How’s your graveyard money turned to piles of dope?
We’re outside! We’re outside!

I’ve got a home outside

This crowd is drowning in blood red confetti.
You’ve got the drugs. You’ve got the money.

Make sure you record it at just the right studio and only let the birds sing about it just enough. There’s a certain set of rules and regulations here. Make sure it’s mixed and mastered by the hippest body on the scene. Release the track listing first. Coordinate your release announcements just right. Include a picture of a tree or a bird or any of the following nostalgic objects from your childhood: bedroom furniture, pools, Halloween costumes, and/or grainy polaroids of the back of your head as you wander into the woods behind your parents house. If any asks you for help, kick some fucking dirt in their face and tell them you worked too hard and they if you can do it then they can do it too. If any of the fans ask you a question please be sure to publicly humiliate them as much as possible and when they call you out don’t back down ‘cause you’re a god damn rockstar baby.

Sell it for 15 dollars. Press a digital recording onto vinyl and splatter your blood across it. Show up late to every show because important stars like don’t have the time. Don’t watch anyone else. Be sure to learn as little as possible. While traveling be sure to only post pictures of your band at fast food restaurants because the fans love to feel like they’re one of you.Now sell it for 30 dollars. A t shirt with nothing but your name in a serif font. Play 21+ shows. Sign to whatever label peddles the most sexist pop star of the day. Sell it for 45 dollars. Put your name on whatever you can convince the kids to buy. Take the whole world in the palm of your hand and smash into tiny pieces.

Is that the steel plate sunset?
Is that the lathe cut ocean?
Is that the quarter inch meadow?

Fly me straight into the carcinogenic horizon
Track Name: Disconnected Catacombs (alt. version)
I had a hard time finding myself tonight
The sky is all bone chalky white

I had a hard time finding myself tonight
The sky is all bone chalky white
There’s a cable that we left writhing on the floor
And I lost all my words when she kissed me at the door:

All that you can find of me is my shoe’s tread dried up in the mud
From a bright white night that was just dripping in love
Afterwards I stood there on the shore just waiting to be saved
So you can dig me a grave

Tonight I had a hard time finding you
The sky is all heroin needle blue
And there’s an endless loop of a memory splitting my mind
I don’t know where my dreams ran off to
I won the auction at the debutante ball
She looks so fine in her spider-web shawl
And then she laid down on her back and we got ready to pray
So please just dig me a grave

Am I lost in a window?
Am I lost in a screen?

Dig me a grave:

Take all the things I can’t handle about me
My gender and my skin and my sexuality
Cover it up with dirt until it’s out of sight
The sky is all bone chalky white.

Dig me a grave.
Track Name: They Can Have The Stage As Long As I Don't Have To Be In The Audience
If you cannot find everything that you need inside of this
Then meet me at the blacktop ball for suicide in pianostrings
Like trees without bark. Like songs we cannot sing.
These halls are inaccessible. These birds have lost theirwings.
If you cannot find everything that you want inside this act:

I feel more dead than alive
I wander pitch black hallways in search of a light
But all I can find is I can’t escape the night
Sickened birth. Sickened thirst. Pure like dying.
They can have the stage but rest assured I’m not watching

I want to pull the plug
Sing me out of here

“I heard the news today…” oh boy…
A pack of notes grew wings and then they flew away

These strangled trees are singing death harmony
These strangled trees are singing death harmony
Oh my god I’m so in love with every open palmed obscurity
Let’s sing every one of them with paving stones

Tonal façade. Aural faux pas.

Burn it.