eLEPHANT hAND blends heavy stoner riffs with progressive metal complexity, creating instrumental tracks that hit hard and leave room for introspection. Each song is a journey, designed to evoke raw emotion and tell stories without words.

www.elephanthand.com
©2024 eLEPHANT hAND

Composed by: Richard Grover
Guitars: Richard Grover
Bass: Jamie Reynolds
Drums: Alex Martinez

Album Art & Media: Andie Wise
Photography: Aleksandr Neplokhov
Recording, Mix & Mastering: Richard Grover, Jamie Reynolds
100% Indie recorded in a garage in Eugene Oregon🤘

A Ukrainian Field Full of Dead Commies

LYRICS

P1US 92.3%,
P1YUS 92.2%.

P2US(1) 89.1%,
P2US 87.9%.

P3US(1) 92.5%,
P3US 83.7%.

P4US 93.2%,
P5US 91.4%.

P6US 91.3%,
P7US 94.2%.

P8US 93.0%,
P9US 92.8%.

P10US 92.5%,
P11US 91.4%


Analysis for the General

Let's give drum and bass one more chance to tell what it hasn't told yet

I Am Here

I Am Here (feat. Maxson)

get on it

Lyrics:

Quarterlies stacked in the Shire's back shed
Frodo missed targets while snacking on bread
Metrics were off, and morale took a hit
Gandalf said softly, “This just isn't it”

His robe flapped hard in the quarterly breeze
He whispered, “I’ve let go of too many FTEs”

Down the shaft of Mount Doom he fell
With a sigh and a spreadsheet yell
Gandalf marked “Exceeds” for Sam
But Frodo just never gave a damn

Performance Review (Frodo's Last Day)

Rain hits the pavement like vinyl hiss
I light a menthol, dismiss the abyss
The alley breathes steam from a breathing grate
Greg’s little paw left clues at the gate

I trace his trail through leaking light
The city hums with feral spite

Sail me now through sodium foam
Greg took the vial and fled from home
Beneath the bricks where shadows comb
I chase the heat, I chase alone

Lunchbox clutched in his trembling teeth
He darted past the abattoir wreath
Old Mrs Drench said he muttered "south"
With peanut butter still on his mouth

A squirrel with cause, a crime in tow
The pawn shop burned three hours ago

Lift me now through static fog
Greg met a man who spoke in log
Their pact was sealed beside the bog
I track them both through dream and smog

The motel clerk had eyes like chalk
He offered soup. He wouldn’t talk
But under the bed, a Polaroid lay
Greg and a penguin, running away

The fuse is lit, the scent is clear
This isn't just a rogue frontier

Throw me now through basement flame
Greg’s made contact, changed his name
He answers only to Mister Frame
And doodles sigils none can tame

Day Two: Greg's Escapade

live july 22 1155am

Never Thought I'd Make It This Far

Who Let The Bruce Out

Crashing Waves

Ddh by bob

Graduated from Corman Park College of Dental Numismatics in 1993, with a graduate degree in Experimental Post-Sludge.

mchorsebones@gmail.com

Day Two: Greg's Escapade

MC Horsebones