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Idée Fixe


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“Welcome to Idee Fixe. Established in the early 1900‘s, Idee Fixe is home to the World’s finest psychiatric medical professionals. During your loved ones stay, they will be treated with the utmost dignity and respect.”
Speak. Spoke. You must have not said enough. You just kept going. With your teeth bared, a lion's grin showing. A liar won't care. If you lay your voice over mine, look away, pass the time, but you better believe in some kind of god because you kill me with every line. There's something inside the cavity bled. The root or the ending is the sweet in my head. It's the edge of the world, the edge of forgiveness. You're staring back and I cannot believe this is. OH. MY. GOD. I want it too and oh I don't know what to do or say. It's better off this way. So you say that you don't know that I will always be here for you.
Mom & Dad 04:53
Dear Mother, Thank you for letting me be so reliant on another, another careless one, and if you still know how to read, then bury your hands until I write you again. Dear Father, Was it so easy to be so convincing? Don't worry, I blame you both and don't worry, you're both at home. I think I knew all along and I know everything. There are some things that you can't cover with another frame on the wall and others you can't burn away. It's so strange that they'd give you rooms that allow you to talk through the walls.Well, I'm sure they're just waiting to record the aggressive, sexual tones that you scream when you're crazy.
They're just words spilling out. An answer for something that everyone knows. Was it crime or indifference? Was it malice or carelessness? Was it then? Did I know? If I ask them again would they continue to show? One foot on the floor or eyes on the door. If I needed a reason or room to lie. Do I dare say it's just Shadow speaking or ugliness rearing again or have I felt this way end? Make the call to a home, where everyone answers, but nobody knows who to ask for. As if you weren't warned. Grand matriarch, we're just settling scores. Leave it to me, the line is left open. As much as I know it's probably still on my back. Give tossing and turning a face, not a name and get nothing. You'll beg for a break in the most obvious way and get nothing. If there's one, where's the other? Left long ago down gravel dirt roads, that stirred with a curse to the sky.
Just Say It! 03:35
Back to the sound the isn't so unfamiliar. Clean yourself and maybe we could do this again. Short of breath and daring eyes. The least we could do is shake hands with who we already know. Smile a cut from ear to ear and wear. Wear the words, but never seem to dress to impress. So who am I to say "I swear I'm not that way."? We owe it to ourselves to at least say what's on our minds. We're running out of time. I'll believe me, if you believe me and I'll just say it, if you say it.
Digress 01:04
My, you're quite the observant one! Catching jars full of anything that attempts to run away. Placed neatly on a shelf in a room full of antiquities a hundred years from here. The only collector is a lonely girl, floating off far away. Indeed my closet is envious of your checkered prints and matching ties. Hector stands in a corner and waits for a bride, but don't let that be your motivation.
If all you need are some good looks and a fake name, then you've got your foot in the door. But without a thought to what's coming then you've got more than you could ever bargain for. She's so pretty, but it doesn't mean a god damn thing. You caught me alive, you caught me on fire, with your empty heart and callused hands. You set me alive, you set me on fire Let's make this more than, more than you could stand. A fine line echoes through the room, but even with a cut dry conversation I think it's safe to assume that you're more well-read than you'd care to admit. We are filthy animals, now let's beg. We are filthy animals that lay in bed.
The blue on the name tag, the red on your dress. Just blur out the static forget all the rest. The color of your eyes whatever they were. The thread count of your coat. With my hands around your throat. The white of the tile is cold and depressed. The lights are the same as they swing back and forth. The color of your eyes just matching the hurt to the thread count of your coat with my hands around your throat. So sell me another line and tell me this will be the last time that I'll ever get to see you again and I'll never be quiet too. The lights are all black now, alarms set to go. In the morning they'll find you amongst all the clothes and mannequin poses, no eyes to compare to the thread count of your coat and the time it took me to write this note.
Regress 01:52
I have my doubts about you only because you're never wrong and my friends don't know about you, but they should by the end of this song. Lights on, lights off. You're here, then gone to tell me how to fix this myself. You can't make a late entrance, so I know when to expect words that make me feel so defenseless. But, in that sense, should I see this coming first? You were my only friend, who always told me how wrong I always was, but what are friends for anyway? My words fall on your ears, but they never seem to hold strong because we both know that my phrases are worth the paper this song is written on.
Diagnosis 03:56
Taste disease rolling off your callus tongue. What did I expect being gone for so long? In your words you seem to scare away the most gentle of dreams, but nobody cares anyway. That's why you do nothing and I scream. Doctor, doctor, is he getting any better now? Oh, can he please come home to sing? Is he sick? Is he getting any better now? I don't know I just don't know. That's not fair for the doctor to say. He doesn't know you're alone or that we're alone. The family is here in his heart, but not in touch. His thoughts are all clear, but the body is aching. The body is breaking down. Is he sick? Is he getting any better now? Oh, can he please come home to sing? Is he sick? Is he getting any better now? I don't know. Doctor, doctor, is he getting any better now? Oh, can he please come home to sing? Doctor, doctor, would you tell me anything? You caught me inside your bleeding IV stare. No known antidotes or name for your weakness. After destroying ourselves and everyone that we know, would you please just come home? Would you please just come home? Would you please pick up the phone? Would you please just come home?
Brother 05:46
Said the bull son to the fire breath, "If our marks match the father's, then our disdain will be praised". But, the other bearing arrows death, "Can we bury what once was and wash this clean?" Poor, little brother. You must know your way. If there's a knock at your door, don't beg for your family. Poor, little brother. You must know your way. If there's a knock at your door, don't cry, don't, no. The silence that we praise. How do we know the answers we want weren't there all along? Did Shadow come to speak again or was it just my time to scream this song? Even if we have just a little bit of fight left in us, the show must go on, the show must go forward. To get ourselves through, we made up a life. Then it all came true. Now I'm living a lie. Liar. You're a liar and you're on your own. Don't you cry.
Progress 01:09


"Welcome to Idee Fixe. Established in the early Nineteen Hundreds, Idee Fixe is the home to the World's finest psychiatric medical professionals. During your loved one's stay, they will be treated with the utmost dignity and respect...".


released April 24, 2014

Chris Sicard-Vocals, Guitar, Bass, Xylophone
Cody McCann-Drums

Recorded, Mixed & Mastered by Sean Rodriguez at Volcan Studios in Normandy Park, WA

Artwork by Cameron Mickelsen


all rights reserved



WAKING THINGS Seattle, Washington

"...their penchant for passionate vocal performances, perky instrumentation, and iridescent melodies have kept them one of Seattle’s must-know artists of the modern era." - Northwest Music Scene

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