Unfinished recordings

The Mist

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)

Floppy sombrero tossed on the tide
A tomb where the sea and the sun collide
Paradise hums with a nuclear glare
Everything’s great — there's crap in the air

Чорнобиль glowing a little too bright
Lake Michigan’s boiling in midnight light
The moon packed up, it’s done with the sky
I hear soft knocks where the drywall sighs

Snowing
Snowing
Snowing
Snowing

This town keeps quieting down each day
The wind speaks less, the trees don't sway
I might write a book, just start on a whim
And send it somewhere, on someone’s limb

The world spins once — a twenty-four whirl
We all fall out from the same old swirl
They ask what I do; I say I write
But it never feels like I’ve said it right

Snowing
Snowing
Snowing
Snowing

Snowing or rain, but never both
The sky just stalls in a solemn oath
Clouds forget how to climb this height
No sound of rain — it doesn't feel right

You can watch as it changes
Everyone changes

One hand wanders, the other stays
Eyes wide open, face half-dazed
A hole appears — I dive right through
It's time again. You’d do it too

Snowing Snowing Snowing

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)

live july 22 1155am

Never Thought I'd Make It This Far

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

Snowing Snowing Snowing

MC Horsebones