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Monocot Down

by Kirk Pearson

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Pollinate 03:29
Now the summer's here but just for a while. The night arrives, now I can smile. It passed my bedtime a season ago, when the birds and the insects put on a show. As the heat goes up, the cares go down as the fire gets hot all around the town. Summer's here to start but it's not too late to feel the need to pollinate. When the morning comes and no one's around, the sun struts in blinding but without a sound. My friends and I laugh as we sit in the dark and watch the hills blossom near Central Park. It's the sign of the season to pollinate. You know you never need a reason to pollinate. It's the sign of the season to pollinate. You know you never need a reason to go.
They collected the monorail and it was filed, with the storybook that scared us all when I was a child. But our feet are now protruding past the edge of our beds and that storybook still haunts me like the waters ahead. Caroline had to test the waters, washing up on video. Video had electromagnets constituting foreign show. What we saw was not the answer, at least in common style, but a redhead midget yelling at an rabbit for a while. We're Yosemite Sam and the mechanical man, you'd have to see her to believe her with her head in the sand, under mechanical Sam and the mechanical woman, and I think it's time to go. They broadcasted existence of the technology, of those hoverboards in fair awards that we've yet to see. The cathode ray of yesterday was far more than a fad, assembled from the childhood that we never had. Caroline had to check the ratings, written in binary code. Binary had a one-and-zero, a recursed resonating node. Music was the scientist, music was the key, when pop culture featured pistols on national TV. The medium's the message as they counted from three, to the products of Adorno and culture industry. Our TV sets are washed away, while I thought that we should borrow from the experimental prototype city of tomorrow. Caroline had to calm the public, caught it all on telephone. Telephone linked to internet, the calming was globally known. Call us when you're scared or worried, call when alone. We'll hear your words before you say them through rotary phone. We're Yosemite Sam and the mechanical man, you'd have to see her to believe her with her head in the sand, under mechanical Sam and the mechanical human and now I think it's time to go.
Monocot Down 02:46
If anyone's moving, we'll all shift around to the way that is used to be-- monocot down. A sweet disposition, ran from the small town. As life passes by me, put the monocot down. My timing was pioneer I had nothing against the fear. They said we're atomic, a echoing bomb, the sign of the storm before the calm. Let me show my importance, make me more than a noun. I know they'll never forget it when the monocot's down. My timing was pioneer, I had nothing against the fear. Almost as barren as north Vietnam, the sign of the storm before the calm. My friends are slow calling, stuck in quick delay. Someday I'd to go back there, before it all goes away. But now at least I expect it, my home sweet ghost town. Someday I'd to go back there and put the monocot down.
Flatland 03:15
Well all I can say is that my life was lived in vain, but when the wind hits from the Northeast there's a chance we'll get more rain. Ohio's pretty quiet but I like where I am living as the music blasts from Elmwood street all throughout the evening. The extant homes of the bourgeois, drowned by the roar of the chainsaw. We stand with vigor and slack jaw. I'd just like to get to know ya, Under the flatland and over the hole, into emotion and out of control. If you hear this song, the next line was known all along. Put the megaphone and aerosol away. Sincerely, NSA. All I can say is that my life was not the same after I learned how to speak and warned the Mexicans of rain. Ohio lacks the mountains but with sound justification when the music hits short circuits under dense precipitation. Caught in the plains' summer swelter. They hotbox the fallout shelter. As the warning sounds from the speaker, I never did get to meet her. If you hear this song, now it's time to sway along. The archaeologists will find us someday, but for now we'll break away. Everybody's out on parole. Put the cop car on cruise control. If you hate this song, your chord analysis was wrong. The mediocrity of personal gain, we need more rain.
Around the planet we have to travel. Against the gravel is where we go to sleep. I miss the people wherever we roam, and I've been missing the warmth of the dial tone. The warmth and the comfort of the dial tone.
Jules Verne 04:18
Now when I was young I thought life was so logical, but didn't know what about. Oh when I was young I thought that life was mathematical and nearly found a way out. I couldn't travel by rail, to the Calcutta tail 'cause I thought I was an hour behind, but Philleas Fogg through the sleet and the smog had a little something else on his mind on his mind, he said: I wrote a riddle about prayer, I said adventure must be out there. Just like Jules Verne said it would be now. As long as Earth's round, we find a hole in the ground. It will take us to perpetual night, the expedition and pain oh, via stratovolcano, to see plants that don't need no light. Just show me the place where the dinosaur roam and find an underground world instead, With a Lindenbrock crew, in an hour or two along and this is what they had in their head, they said: Geology may be a scare, but still adventure is out there. Just like Jules Verne said it would be now. He set a surface of lies as the jets starts to rise, while the Nautilus descends into dark. The botanical glow, with the ebb and the flow, as he casually and calmly remarked, that the thrill of location, in a poor situation though the tentacles may get in the way, with miles from home, the ocean floor that we comb had a little something extra to say, it said: The water isn't a doldrum, The water still is a home to some, Just like Jules Verne said it would be now. The world is far from a falsehood, It must be traveled and understood. Just like Jules Verne said it would be now.
Listen to earth warm, symphonic tone. Rumbling and tumbling you all fell asleep, A little wheel turning through nocturnal hum, and the promises you said you would keep. Holding your microscope to the horizon, the lanterns slowly flicker as the night becomes steep. With miles left before we can write it all down, with miles before we sleep. Now you can wander through the liminal to get to point B, while vaguely ethnic music fills the day, and the mothers of invention of the ambient sounds are dancing the night away. Everyone says armchair anthropologists will seldom conclude as they desecrate and speculate away. The air is still and silent and outstretched before us, the envy of all we survey. Stay for the sunset past the horizon, the warming of the earth arrives before we rest, for the planet keeps on thinning and spinning below us and for a moment we have been among its guests.


I have lived in many states throughout my life. New York, California, Denial, Panic, and most recently, Ohio.

Ohio is a great state.
It is also a very flat state.

"Monocot Down" is an Ohio product, much like tires and corn, only less versatile and probably less tasty. It's a collection of songs about roots: those biological, nostalgic, botanical, consanguineal and regional. This EP gives you a complete Ohio experience, minus the people, landscape, sights, sounds and pretty much everything else about the state of Ohio.

So why is this music worth your time? Because it's good, collaborative work. Most bands today feature four people. Sometimes even less. This made us angry. But instead of cursing the world, we decided to do something productive. "Monocot Down" is a collaborative album of over eighteen musicians. And this is why our EP is better.

Every download, as always, is backed with the pledge: "A free EP. Satisfaction guaranteed. Or your money back."

Pollinate: your consanguineal roots.
Yosemite Sam: your innovational roots.
Monocot Down: your biological roots.
Flatland: your regional roots.
The Warmth of the Dial Tone: your international roots.
Jules Verne: your childhood roots.
Armchair Anthropologist: your homeland roots.


released July 3, 2013


*Kirk Pearson* (Composer, Performer, Mammal) is a composer from Brooklyn, New York. He writes for film and TV, plays the mandolin and once bought a ukulele, although he does not remember how or why. Pearson studies film and composition at Oberlin College and Conservatory.

Also featuring:

*Jonah Bobo* (Guitar) has been living every day since he was born. He is guitarist for New York punk group "The Bonnie Situation."

*Nick Dunston* (Electric Bass) jazz. Jazz jazz jazz, jazz jazz. Jazz jazz jazz? Jazz jazz jazz jazz jazz.

*Kelly Efthimiu* (Vocals on "Jules Verne") is an advertising student at Boston University. She put the "elation" in "public relation."

*Vanessa Grasing* (Vocals) studies studio composition at SUNY Purchase. She has a growing collection of twenty-seven journals.

*Alice Hayes* (Violin) studies human science at Georgetown University, a useless endeavor compared to her main talent, calling football fouls.

*Julian Korzeniowsky* (Composition, Keyboards) is an able-bodied white male who studies classical composition at New England Conservatory. He enjoys other kinds of music too.

*Caroline Kuhn* (Vocals on "Armchair Anthropologist") is a composer at LaGuardia Arts. Her last name is pronounced like the first syllable in "CUNY," so don't screw it up.

*Will Lord* (Vocals on "Armchair Anthropologist") describes his politics as "liberal in a very hipster way." He is a voice major at LaGuardia Arts.

*Zoë Madonna* (Accordion) is a dancing fool and aiurophile who will never own enough ridiculous jackets. She plays accordion and graces the East Asian Studies department of Oberlin College.

*Emma Morcroft* (Vocals on "Pollinate") likes big hair and cowboy boots. To demonstrate her perpetual awesomeness, she recorded "Pollinate" two hours after graduating LaGuardia Arts and eight hours before heading off to Belmont University for vocal performance.

*Julia Ofman* (Vocals on "Jules Verne") studies religion at Bates College. She enjoys singing and eating but avoids doing them simultaneously. She aspires to be Beyoncé.

*Max Parsons* (Piano) exited the womb on a high Bb. He studies voice at UT Austin.

*Eric Poretsky* (Keyboards) is a film composer and pianist. He has a few opinions on contemporary music too. You can read them at his aptly named website, ericporetsky.com.

*Damon Smith* (Clavichord) is keyboardist for "The Jacobins" and studies contemporary improv at New England Conservatory. He once played a show with Slash, who was kind of a jerk.

*Andres Valbuena* (Drum Kit) is the drummer for "Brother Saints" and an all around good guy.

*Lucio Westmoreland* (Electric Guitar) is a multi-instrumentalist with "The Jacobins" and "Suchaporn." When not making music, he practices his second hobby: taxidermy.


*Martina Fugazzotto* (Album Art) is a digital strategist, designer, and aspiring homesteader. She once saw Mary-Kate Olsen at a bar and they were wearing exactly the same dress.

All songs by Kirk Pearson, except "Pollinate," by Pearson/Korzeniowsky and

The central melody for "Monocot Down" is based on the theme to "São Salvador" by Ricardo Lemvo y Makina Loca. A portion of the chorus for "Flatland" was based off of "Kids Go" by They Might Be Giants.

Composed, engineered and recorded in by Kirk Pearson in his living room, Brooklyn, NY.
Artistic direction by Martina Fugazzotto




Kirk Pearson New York

I make sound out of things


I also make things out of sound


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