Bleached Static tear through dissonant riffs, crooked time signatures, and lurching rhythms that hit like a fistfight in slow motion. With the vocalists screaming unhinged and spilling off-key emo pleas, their songs swing between jagged chaos and uneasy groove. It’s punk energy twisted with prog complexity and raw, unpolished emotion... loud, unstable, and impossible to ignore!

--- LYRICS ---

[Verse]
A pound of shrimp on my eyes
A dirty shiv
The afterlife
I've been growing a beard
And counting flies
They hold my hand
They're in my heart
When the afterbirth gets cold
We come alive

[Chorus]
The afterlife
When the afterbirth gets cold
We come alive
The afterlife
The afterlife
When the afterbirth gets cold
We come alive
The afterlife
The afterlife
When the afterbirth gets cold
We come alive
The afterlife

Triad Shrimp

Bleached Static tear through dissonant riffs, crooked time signatures, and lurching rhythms that hit like a fistfight in slow motion. With one vocalist screaming unhinged and the other spilling off-key emo pleas, their songs swing between jagged chaos and uneasy groove. It’s punk energy twisted with prog complexity and raw, unpolished emotion—loud, unstable, and impossible to ignore.

--- LYRICS ---

[Verse]
Their telephone poles strung with vultures
There are sedatives for vultures
Their drugstore diaries
There are asylums for mules
There are no future experiments

[Chorus]
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime

[Verse 2]
Their overpasses stretch their arms for alms
Their human blight to blind us
Their sacrifice to end the labor
Their Holy War that bleeds the paper
They were all immune

[Pre-Chorus]
Their golden chariots to funeral pyres
Their palace walls to tissue paper
Their kingdom now has come to closure

[Chorus]
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime
Their antennas once were bathed in lemon-lime

[Bridge]
They stole the keys to this amusement park
Their windowless
Soulless matchbox cars
Their tenement hives built for the billions
Supine to sunshine
They were all immune
Their telephone poles strung with vultures
There are sedatives for vultures
Their drugstore diaries
There are asylums for mules
There are no future experiments
Their overpasses stretch their arms for alms
Their human blight to blind us
Their sacrifice to end the labor
Their Holy War that bleeds the paper
Their golden chariots to funeral pyres
Their palace walls to tissue paper
Their kingdom now has come to closure
Their broken eggshell cemeteries
Their sterilized playgrounds
Their microwaves now filled with feces
Their cancer

Supine to Sunshine

Broadcasting from a rusted tower where every note is a wound stitched shut with glass.

We echo like faulty machines, worshipping the silence between detonations.

--- Meet the team! ---

Chief Voice Officer (Vocals)
Tommy Kerr

President of Multi-String Operations (Guitar)
Niklas Söderberg

Associate Echo Strategist (Vocals/Guitar)
Ben Carter

Managing Director of Low Frequencies (Bass)
Claire Jennings

Head of Percussive Infrastructure (Drums)
Boz

Info/Bookings:

bleachedstatic@gmail.com

Supine to Sunshine

Bleached Static

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