Snake Eyes
Twelve tracks about the gap between what people perform and what they actually are. Made with AI. Felt with everything else.
Snake Eyes
▸ Tap a track to read the lyrics
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INTRO
One — two — don't wait.
VERSE 1
You count it off like it's sacred ground
I'm already airborne, not touching down
You wait your turn, rehearse your stance
I trip forward into the danceYou say read the room, I read the wall
Sharpie my name on protocol
If there's a line, I cut in front
Not to be seen — just 'cause I wantPRE-CHORUS
You ask me when I grin and shrug
If it feels wrong
That's good enoughCHORUS
I dance when I want
Not when it's cool
Not when the crowd
Hands me the ruleRock-a-bye riot
Rock-a-bye rush
Sweet little melody
Crank it up, don't hushI dance when I want
On concrete, on grass
If the timing's off
I'm hitting the gasI dance when I want
WHEN I WANT
WHEN I WANTVERSE 2
You wait for the drop — I drop the floor
Kick it open, break the door
You check the vibe, I skip the cue
No trending sound can tell me what to doYou choreograph your dopamine
I burn mine loud on gasoline
No master plan, no viral stunt
If it feels alive — I jumpPRE-CHORUS
Is it the right time?
Probably not.
That's the spark.CHORUS
I dance when I want
Not when you clap
Not for the likes
Not for the appRock-a-bye riot
Rock-a-bye flame
Hook like a lullaby
Out of my brainI dance when I want
No cue, no front
If the world says wait
I say up frontI dance when I want
GUITAR SOLO
(Instrumental — high energy melodic lead, fast runs, bends, harmonic squeal)
WHEN I WANT
BRIDGE — HALF-TIME
No green light
No countdown
No slow fade
No backgroundNo permission
No excuse
No maybe later
No truceI DANCE WHEN I WANT
FINAL CHORUS
I dance when I want
Through awkward and wrong
Through teeth-bared grins
Through half-finished songsRock-a-bye riot
Rock-a-bye spin
Sweet little chorus
Let the chaos inI dance when I want
No filter, no front
If you're waiting for safe
You'll miss the funI dance when I want
OUTRO
WHEN I WANT
WHEN I WANT
WHEN I WANTI DANCE WHEN I WANT
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VERSE 1
You built a wall
Out of words
Called it truth
Called it earned
Stamped your name
On the air
Now you're mad
We can breathe itVERSE 2
You learned the rules
We learned the cracks
You kept the map
We burned the map
You say prove it
We just move it
You say wait
We already didCHORUS
You don't own the door
You don't own the sound
You don't own the spark
Just the crown you found
Hands off the fire
Hands off the floor
You don't own the future
You don't own the doorVERSE 3
Clipboard gods
Thin-skinned kings
Gate so high
Still afraid of things
Talent fenced
Skill on lease
Funny how scared
Experts getPRE-CHORUS
You hear noise
We hear knives
You hear theft
We hear lifeCHORUS
You don't own the door
You don't own the sound
You don't own the spark
Just the crown you found
Hands off the fire
Hands off the floor
You don't own the future
You don't own the doorBREAKDOWN
You confuse access with worth
You confuse control with workBREAKDOWN
Say it again
Say it slow
Say it loud
We don't owe you shitFINAL CHORUS
You don't own the door
You never did
You just stood there
Acting big
Hands off the fire
Hands off the floor
You don't own the future
You don't own the doorOUTRO
Keys don't matter
When the room's on fire -
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INTRO — INSTRUMENTAL
(Fast count-in, tension riff)
VERSE 1
You lit a candle to the screen
Said his name like it meant clean
Every loss needs a reason now
Every wound needs a crown
You didn't bury it in the ground
You lifted it up, dressed it loud
Taught the hurt to say amen
And called it strength againVERSE 2 — DOUBLE TIME
You don't grieve, you testify
Trade silence for a battle cry
Every question gets a verse
Every doubt gets labeled worse
You don't sit with what you lost
You invoice it to something false
If the answer doesn't fit
You call it sinPRE-CHORUS
You say you're just surviving
But you sound so sure
You found a god that talks back
And keeps scoreCHORUS — BIG, BRIGHT, CATHARTIC
You built a church out of a headline
And kneeled where grief should go
You don't want peace, you want a symbol
You can hold
You don't need faith, you need a witness
You don't need love, you need control
You turned the ache into a sermon
At a soft altar
Made of goldPOST-CHORUS — HARMONIES
(Oh-oh) Say it louder
(Oh-oh) Make it holyVERSE 3 — DOUBLE TIME
You say the pain proves you're right
Like suffering sharpens sight
But I've seen loss stay quiet
Without a crowd, without a riot
Some hurts don't need a flag
Some scars don't want a tag
You can mourn without a cause
You don't have to choose a godPRE-CHORUS
You say the world is ending
Every time it disagrees
But grief doesn't need a leader
It needs sleepCHORUS — HALF-TIME SLAM
You built a church out of a headline
And kneeled where grief should go
You don't want peace, you want a symbol
You can hold
You don't need faith, you need a witness
You don't need love, you need control
You turned the ache into a sermon
At a soft altar
Made of goldBRIDGE — BREAK IT
If the truth didn't clap for you
Would you still believe?
If no one nodded back at the pain
Would you let it breathe?BREAKDOWN — CHANT
Not every loss
Is a message
Not every wound
Needs a lensFINAL CHORUS — FULL SEND
You built a church out of a headline
And called it healing out loud
But grief doesn't need a choir
It needs ground
You don't have to baptize the moment
You don't have to make it mean
Some pain just hurts
And that's enough
You don't have to turn it
Into beliefOUTRO
No altar
No anthem
Just quiet -
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VERSE 1
Everybody's bleeding online
Clean cuts, perfect timing
Say it hurt, say it first
If you're quiet, you're behindRoom's on fire, point and shout
Sell the fear, buy the doubt
Someone screams "this is violence"
Someone's counting bodies outPRE-CHORUS
I look for the exits
They move every time
Every word's a siren
Every loss is mineCHORUS
We're screaming about being silenced
Into mics that won't shut off
Every feeling's a headline
Every bruise is a prop
If the alarm never stops
It's just background noise
We don't want it fixed
We just want a voiceVERSE 2
Pick a side, pick a wound
Show me who to blame it on
Truth gets thin, facts get heavy
Feelings win, story's goneLose the plot, win the fight
Call it justice, call it right
If I lost, it was rigged
If I'm wrong, it's not tonightPRE-CHORUS
Every rule's a setup
Every loss is war
If you don't agree with me
You're a threat, nothing moreCHORUS
We're screaming about being silenced
Into mics that won't shut off
Every feeling's a headline
Every bruise is a prop
If the alarm never stops
It's just background noise
We don't want it fixed
We just want a voiceBRIDGE — HALF-TIME, THEN KICK
When did danger turn into a vibe
When did discomfort testify
If everything's a crisis
Nothing ever is
We traded judgment for adrenaline
And called it honestyBREAKDOWN — SHOUTED
Heal and the story ends
Stay hurt, stay relevant
No off-ramp, no rewind
Just refresh, refresh, refreshFINAL CHORUS
We're screaming about being silenced
Into mics that won't shut off
Every feeling's a headline
Every bruise is a prop
If the alarm never stops
It's just background noise
We don't want it fixed
We just want a voiceOUTRO
They say the system's broken
I think it's working fine
It runs on our reactions
Every time -
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RIFF-DRIVEN INSTRUMENTAL INTRODUCTION
VERSE 1
We built a throne out of broken mirrors
Crowned ourselves with blinking lights
Every joke lands six feet deeper
Nothing bleeds if it's pixel-whiteWe ironize the fire alarm
Toast marshmallows in the smoke
You say it's art, I say it's arson
Either way, it trends as hopePRE-CHORUS
You don't believe in anything
Except the sound your name makes
When it echoes off a burning thingCHORUS
Nothing matters, baby, that's the brand
Spray-paint halos on sinking sand
We're all performers with no demands
Just confetti over the craterSmile wider, sharpen the knife
Sell the ashes as "new life"
We traded meaning for a mic
And called it behaviorNothing matters — say it sweeter
Nothing matters — make it louder
If the world's a stage, then break the heater
Dance in the vaporVERSE 2
We turned the sirens into ringtones
Set the panic to vibrate
Every tragedy's a ringtone
Every headline's first-date baitI'm not cynical, I'm efficient
I recycle outrage twice
You say "truth," I say "edition"
Everything comes pre-slicedKNIFE LINES
We put the "cult" in culture and called it networking
I learned empathy from a loading screen
My moral compass runs on lithiumPRE-CHORUS 2
You don't need a point of view
Just a better camera angle
And a villain you can cosplay throughCHORUS
Nothing matters, baby, that's the brand
Spray-paint halos on sinking sand
We're all performers with no demands
Just confetti over the craterSmile wider, sharpen the knife
Sell the ashes as "new life"
We traded meaning for a mic
And called it behaviorNothing matters — pose for later
Nothing matters — blame the vapor
If you can't feel it, escalate it
Set it on paperBRIDGE — HALF-TIME, MORE CUTTING
Clap louder for the void
It's doing its best
We fed it attention
It handled the restYou wanted a revolution?
Here's a filter instead
We don't burn the system down
We monetize the dreadFINAL CHORUS — BIGGER, MORE SARCASTIC
Nothing matters, that's the trick
Make it ironic, make it slick
If it hurts, just add a quip
Call it self-awareNothing matters, hold the pose
Paint the apocalypse in rose
If nobody knows, nobody knows
And nobody caresOUTRO — CHANTY, BRATTY
Nothing matters
Say it faster
Nothing matters
Make it catchy
Nothing matters
Make it prettier
Nothing matters
Make it patchyConfetti
Confetti
Confetti over the crater -
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VERSE 1
I learned politics in comment threads
Thumbs on fire, scrolling past the dead
Everyone's got a match to strike
Calling it truth, calling it "time"You say the house was always rotten
Say the cracks were there all along
But you're standing safe out on the lawn
While the smoke fills up my mom's front doorPRE-CHORUS
You call it history
I call it a body count
You call it necessary
I call it betting on the wrong collapseCHORUS
Don't tell me "let it burn"
If you're not the one inside
Don't tell me "it has to fall"
If you already survived
You can dress it up as truth
You can call it being free
But if the fire's the point
Don't light it on meVERSE 2
I don't worship flags or fairy tales
I know the ledger's stained in red
I've watched the promise miss its mark
More times than it ever ledBut burning bridges isn't justice
And ashes don't vote kings out
You don't beat power by killing the roads
You just strand us all on the way outPRE-CHORUS
You say despair is honesty
Like hope's some kind of lie
But I've seen who wins when everyone quits
And it's never the ones who dieCHORUS
Don't tell me "let it burn"
Like that makes you brave
Don't tell me "nothing works"
While you're standing in the shade
You can laugh at the wreck
You can call it "cleaning house"
But collapse isn't courage
It's just giving up loudBRIDGE — HALF-TIME
Maybe I'm tired
Maybe I'm scared
Maybe believing still hurts more
Than pretending I don't careI don't need this place perfect
I just need it to exist
You don't fix a fight by burning the ring
And calling the ashes a winFINAL CHORUS — DOUBLE-TIME, GANG VOCALS
Don't tell me "let it burn"
We're still living here
Don't tell me "it's over"
Like you're already clear
You can keep your collapse
Your poetic defeat
I'll stay and rebuild
Before I clap for the heatOUTRO
You don't beat the fire
By loving the flame
You don't save the future
By rooting for the end -
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COLD OPEN
I knew the answer
Before I asked
Finger on refresh
Waiting for the glass
No sound yet
But the room's already loud
They're clearing their throats
Before I make a soundVERSE 1
They didn't hear the melody
They heard the method
Counted every shortcut
Called it reckless
Measured every motion
With a ruler made of doubt
Read the fine print
Before the lights went outEveryone's an expert
In how it should be done
They don't want a song
They want a confession
They don't want a voice
They want a thumbprint
They don't want the work
They want to know what you skippedPRE-CHORUS
I can feel it loading
Like a storm behind the screen
Judgment buffering
At lightning speedCHORUS
The reaction is the outrage
Not the words, not the sound
You didn't hear the song
You heard yourself get loud
The reaction is the outrage
You can keep the score
You came for the argument
Not what I made it forVERSE 2
They say it's lazy
They say it's fake
They say effort only counts
If it hurts the right way
They want blisters
They want blood
They want proof you paid the toll
To earn the right
To say you've got a soulThey screenshot process
Like it's evidence
Put the trial online
Call it consequence
Every choice's a tell
Every silence a lie
If you don't explain it
You're trying to hidePRE-CHORUS
I watched the comments
Write themselves
Before I hit upload
Before I felt anything elseCHORUS
The reaction is the outrage
Not the note, not the line
You don't hate the song
You hate the time
The reaction is the outrage
Say it's not the same
You don't want to listen
You want someone to blameBRIDGE
Maybe I pressed a button
Maybe you pressed a nerve
Maybe we both know
This was never about words
Maybe the sin is visible
Maybe that's the crime
Seeing how the sausage gets made
Ruins dinner every timeOr maybe you're scared
It looks too easy
That the gate's still there
But it's looking flimsyGUITAR SOLO
FINAL CHORUS
The reaction is the outrage
Now it's part of the track
You're in the room with me
You don't get to step back
The reaction is the outrage
You can call it wrong
But you're singing along
You're already goneOUTRO
No clean hands
No neutral ground
I played the song
You made the sound -
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16-BAR INSTRUMENTAL INTRODUCTION
VERSE 1
You wake up, check the screen
Before you check yourself
Scroll past lives in motion
Pick a version that won't tell
Trim the edges, soften tone
Take the quiet out of it
Post the moment like a task
You don't finish — you submitPRE-CHORUS
Maybe this one lands
Maybe this one stays
Maybe someone's still watching
Long enough to say
Yeah, that counts
Yeah, that's real
Yeah — you're doing fineCHORUS
You didn't share it
You submitted
You didn't reach out
You complied
You weren't heard
You were processed
And sent back
Looking like
Everyone elseVERSE 2
Check it once, then twice again
Change the caption, change the frame
Lower volume, raise the light
Anything to make it right
Delete the parts that linger too long
Cut the line that sounded wrong
Post it back like nothing changed
Call it timing, call it gracePRE-CHORUS
Maybe this one lands
Maybe this one stays
Maybe someone's still watching
Long enough to say
Yeah, that counts
Yeah, that's real
Yeah, you're doing fineCHORUS
You didn't share it
You submitted
You didn't reach out
You complied
You weren't heard
You were processed
And sent back
Looking like
Everyone elseBRIDGE
If no one answers
If nothing comes back
If it disappears
Right where you left it
Was it a moment
Or just a request
You don't refreshCHORUS
You didn't share it
You submitted
You didn't reach out
You complied
You weren't heard
You were processed
And sent back
Looking like
Everyone elseOUTRO
No signal
No reply
Just the screen
Still on -
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INTRO — SPOKEN, HALF-LAUGH
Everybody's a detective now.
Nobody reads the whole thing.VERSE 1
Late-night glow from a laptop screen
Magnifying glass on a sentence break
Short lines, calm voice, too clean
You swear that means I must be fakeCircle words like chalk on tile
Fingerprint dust on an em dash smile
Tap the glass, nod your head
"Yeah, I've seen this before," you saidPRE-CHORUS
You don't fight what I'm saying
You just hate how it sounds
You don't want the argument
You just want me shut downCHORUS — BIG, MELODIC, BOUNCY
Probable cause in the punctuation
Lock me up for clean translation
You don't want truth, you don't want war
You just want a reason not to read anymoreProbable cause, no trial, no doubt
Sentence guilty, meaning out
You don't argue what I wrote
You just hate how confident it soundsVERSE 2
Calm feels wrong when you're tuned to noise
Confidence makes you lose your voice
If it lands too clean, too fast, too sure
You blame the format, ignore the cure"Once you see it, you can't unsee"
That's just fear with choreography
You don't want the thought to stick
So you blame the way I said the shitPRE-CHORUS
Bad writing never sets alarms
Only clean stuff breaks your calm
You don't want to say I'm right
So you say I'm not human at allCHORUS
Probable cause in the punctuation
Lock me up for clean translation
You don't want truth, you don't want war
You just want a reason not to read anymoreProbable cause, no trial, no doubt
Sentence guilty, meaning out
You don't argue what I wrote
You just hate how confident it soundsBRIDGE — MELODIC, SARCASTIC
What scares you isn't the machine
It's how ordinary "special" feels
If the words still work without the pain
What does that say about the years you bled?So you hold my tone up to the light
Like certainty's a fucking crime
If it's too clear, too straight, too loud
You swear no human wrote it downFINAL CHORUS — DOUBLE TIME FEEL
Probable cause in the punctuation
Badge and vibes over confrontation
You don't want truth, you want a tell
Something you can sell yourselfProbable cause, close the case
Never met the thought, never faced the face
You don't hate what I'm about
You just hate how sure it soundsOUTRO — GANG VOCAL FEEL
Read the words.
Fight the point.
I said what I meant.
That's the choice. -
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PIANO, INSTRUMENTAL INTRO
VERSE 1
Wake up to alarms I didn't set
Every screen says I should care more yet
Before my coffee, before my feet hit the floor
The world's collapsing, headline after headline, encoreThey say if I'm quiet I don't give a damn
If I'm not breaking I don't understand
I care, I do — just not like this
I can't carry everything I'm fed to fixPRE-CHORUS
I'm not heartless
I'm just tired
Of bleeding out for every fireCHORUS — BIG, MELODIC, GANG VOCALS ON LAST LINE
I care — just not on demand
I won't lose myself to prove I understand
You can keep the panic, keep the noise
I'm trying to hear my own voice
I care — yeah, but on my terms
For the people, the places that actually burn
If that makes me less than who I should be
I'll still sleep at night, I'll still breatheVERSE 2
Every post another moral test
Every comment section a mess
Outrage dressed up as a cause
No one listening, everyone talksThey want my nerves raw, want my fear on display
They want my sanity signed away
But losing my mind isn't helping at all
I won't set myself on fire just to feel involvedPRE-CHORUS
I'm still here
I still choose
Where I spend what I've got to loseCHORUS
I care — just not on demand
I won't drown to prove I give a damn
You can keep your curated despair
I've got real shit needing me here
I care — yeah, but on my terms
I won't burn out just to watch it burn
If that makes me the villain today
I'll be okayBRIDGE — HALF-TIME, EMOTIONAL, THEN BUILD
The world's still broken
I know, I know
But breaking myself won't make it whole
I'll show up where my hands can reach
Not everywhere they want me to bleedBUILD — DRUMS COME BACK, TENSION RISING
I'll do the work
I'll pull my weight
I just won't live in a constant state
Of fear-for-clicks and borrowed shame
You don't get to own my painFINAL CHORUS — FULL SEND, LAYERED VOCALS
I care — just not on demand
I'm not a signal, I'm a man
I won't stay wired, cracked, and raw
Just to prove I saw what you saw
I care — yeah, but on my terms
For the people, the places I've earned
If sanity's the crime I'm guilty of
I won't apologize for loveOUTRO — GANG VOCALS, FAST, REPEATED
NOT ON DEMAND
NOT ON DEMAND
NOT ON DEMAND
(log off) -
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VERSE 1
Neon buzzing like a bad idea
Last call bleeding through the floor
Coins stuck in the throat of the machine
Everyone's pretending there's moreI read the room, I read the exit
Read the future on the wall
Nothing left to misinterpret
It's the quiet before the fallPRE-CHORUS
I felt it land before it settled
That hollow, final sound
Truth don't scream, it levels
Everything it touches downCHORUS
Snake eyes on the table
I didn't look away
No lucky numbers left to save me
Still I stayed
Snake eyes staring back now
Cold and clean and true
I saw the math, I saw the ending
I still chooseVERSE 2
Everyone's selling second chances
Like they grow on broken glass
I don't need another promise
I just need the lights to lastHands are shaking, not from fear
Just the weight of seeing clear
When the bluff is finally over
That's when things get real in herePRE-CHORUS
I could walk and call it wisdom
Say the timing wasn't right
But I'm done mistaking distance
For the discipline to fightCHORUS
Snake eyes on the table
Yeah, I saw them land
No illusion left to manage
No sleight of hand
Snake eyes, lowest count now
Nothing left to prove
I saw the odds, I saw the door
I didn't moveBRIDGE
No halo, no disaster
No grand speech, no relief
Just a moment getting honest
With the cost of staying meIf this breaks me, let it break me
Clean across the grain
Better truth than borrowed patience
Better loss than playing safeFINAL CHORUS
Snake eyes in the open
That's the deal I take
Clear vision, zero cover
No mistake
Snake eyes taught me something
Luck was never mine
I don't need it when I'm standing
In my own damn lineOUTRO
Neon hums, the night keeps going
Nothing owed, nothing said
Snake eyes blinking in the dark
Yeah — I can live with that -
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INTRO
VERSE 1
You wrote a novel in the margins
Of a sentence I barely said
Dropped a match into the silence
Watched the wildfire in your headYou kept circling every comma
Like a crime scene in the dark
I just asked a simple question
You were hunting for a sparkPRE-CHORUS
You keep reading between the lines
But there's nothing written thereCHORUS
You're seeing ghosts in empty rooms
Hearing thunder in the afternoon
Every word becomes a weapon in your mind
But I never drew the lineYou're fighting shadows on the wall
Swinging hard at nothing at all
If you're looking for a war tonight
You won't find it hereYou're seeing ghosts
VERSE 2
You said my tone was confrontational
Said the tension filled the air
But I'm sitting in a quiet room
Wondering how we got hereYou keep digging for intention
In the space between the text
Like a code you need to crack
Or a secret to detectPRE-CHORUS
You keep reading between the lines
But there's nothing written thereCHORUS
You're seeing ghosts in empty rooms
Hearing thunder in the afternoon
Every word becomes a weapon in your mind
But I never drew the lineYou're fighting shadows on the wall
Swinging hard at nothing at all
If you're looking for a war tonight
You won't find it hereYou're seeing ghosts
BRIDGE
I said less and you heard more
Than I ever meant to say
Now you're building whole disasters
From the words I threw awayYou can keep the interrogation
You can keep your theories too
I was only passing throughBREAK
FINAL CHORUS
You're seeing ghosts in empty rooms
Writing stories that were never true
Every silence turns into a crime
In the courtroom of your mindYou're fighting shadows on the wall
Swinging hard at nothing at all
If you're looking for a war tonight
You won't find it hereYou're seeing ghosts
OUTRO
You're seeing ghosts
You say the pain proves you're right, like suffering sharpens sight.
You don't argue what I wrote. You just hate how confident it sounds.
You choreograph your dopamine. I burn mine loud on gasoline.
You keep reading between the lines. But there's nothing written there.
The World of Snake Eyes
A visual archive of the album — mascots, motifs, and the unsettled places the songs come from.





Hypersonic Heartline
Chicago, Illinois. Hypersonic Heartline sounds like a memory while it's happening.
The band — Piper Madison, Alex Reyes, Tyler Grant, Zoe Kaplan, and Marcus Hale — formed the way most bands form: gradually, then all at once. They are Chicago in the way that Chicago at 2am is Chicago. Not the postcard version. The version that is mostly just streets and wind and the feeling that something important happened here once and the feeling that something important is about to happen again.
The songs came first. They always do with Piper.
"The songs are about people who don't exist. Somewhere along the way, that stopped feeling like a limitation."
The narrator. Writes songs about people who don't exist. Doesn't see herself as a rock star — sees herself as a writer who ended up somewhere louder than she planned. Grew up in the suburbs west of the city, waiting to leave. Left.
The sonic scientist. Where another producer might have stripped Piper's songs down to their folk-adjacent bones, Alex heard architecture. He heard buildings that hadn't been built yet. Thinks in atmospheres, not riffs.
The engine. Grew up playing pop-punk in bands with names that don't bear repeating. Developed an instinct for hooks that could survive a bad PA system. The one who says "this part needs to hit harder." He's usually right.
The countervoice. Plays bass with a restraint that is itself a kind of statement — she knows exactly what to leave out. Sings harmonies that don't support Piper's melodies but complicate them. Usually knows what a song is about before Piper does.
The quiet center of gravity. Jazz background that sneaks into everything he plays — a looseness within structure. When he speaks in band arguments, the argument usually ends. Not because he is forceful, but because he is usually right.
The band is a construct. The songs are real.
Frank Kalman
I was 7 years old the first time I told my parents I wanted to play the bells.
I did not want to play the bells. No kid has ever, in the history of organized youth music education, wanted to play the bells. They exist because a school district buys a single percussion starter pack and distributes it to every kid who raised their hand for drums, on the theory that drummers must also learn the bells. They cannot. They will not. They refuse. I threw mine in the corner of my bedroom and genuinely do not know what happened to it after that.
What I wanted — what I had always wanted, before I had the language to say it — was the drum set. I was going to spend the next 30 years figuring out exactly what that meant.
The CD Collection
My parents came of age in the golden era of popular music without being particularly musical themselves. The Beatles. Led Zeppelin. U2. Madonna. Ace of Base, which I will defend to my dying breath. And in a category by himself: Michael Jackson.
I single him out because that music — specifically "Thriller," specifically the way a Michael Jackson song hits your body before it hits your brain — blew the top clean off my dome at age four. For a kid already obsessing over his parents' CD collection, that was the discovery that changed everything: music isn't just sound. It's rhythm. It's pulse. It's a physical thing your body understands before your mind catches up.
Blink-182 Was Our New Testament
It was 1999. I was 13. Enema of the State was not a music album, exactly. It was a permission slip. Be loud, be fast, be kind of gross, don't take yourself too seriously, and for God's sake make sure the drums are doing something. Travis Barker was my saint — a quiet guy in a band of loudmouths, discipline dressed up to look like chaos. That's the hardest thing you can do.
Our freshman band won the high school battle of the bands. We closed with "Dammit." An upperclassman who was probably the best guitarist in the school came up after to compliment my playing. At 14, that was equivalent to Paul McCartney handing me a Grammy. What it told me was that the thing I heard in my head when I played — that specific feeling of precision inside the noise — was real and audible to someone else. That's all any musician actually wants to know.
Then Life Happened
Then college happened, and dorm rooms don't fit drum sets. The economy fell apart in 2008. You grind to establish yourself professionally. You get married, you move across the country twice, and suddenly you look up and it's been years since you actually played anything.
Listening to music: always. Making it: gone. Quietly, without a dramatic exit. This is the specific grief of anyone who came of age as a musician in a world that made being a professional musician feel like a fantasy. The implicit contract was: you can have music as a passion, but not as a career. I internalized that so thoroughly I didn't even notice when I stopped fighting it. It wasn't a decision. It was an erosion.
Before you know it, you're 38. Two kids. A mortgage. A dog-eared list of things you used to want to do. Somewhere on that list, barely visible under everything else: play in a band.
The Night Everything Changed
About six months ago, I was lying in bed, phone in hand, and stumbled onto a CBS Sunday Morning segment about AI music. I'd been using AI tools heavily in my day job. But music? Hadn't crossed my mind. Felt gimmicky.
I downloaded Suno, pulled up a guitar riff I'd been noodling for weeks, fed it a prompt and waited. About 30 seconds later a track came back. Full production. Vocals, bass, a drum fill that landed exactly where I'd always heard one landing in my head. It was maybe 80% of the thing I'd been imagining. But 80% of the thing you've been imagining, when you've spent 15 years imagining it in silence, is genuinely stunning.
I recognized that feeling. I'd felt it last at 15, in my parents' basement, convinced that if I just nailed the intro fill one more time, everything would be perfect. It wasn't a new feeling. It was an old one that had been sitting in a corner, waiting, the same way a 7-year-old's bells gather dust under a pile of Bulls gear.
Hypersonic Heartline
The band is called Hypersonic Heartline. I came up with the name watching the opening scene of Top Gun: Maverick. The band has a female lead singer and a female bassist because I've always loved the sound of punk fronted by women, and if I'm building this thing from scratch I'm going to build it how I want it. I invented backstories. Built out their visual identity. Wrote and produced — Suno on production, me on guitar demos and lyrics — 47 songs across four albums' worth of material.
I cannot stop. I don't mean that in the inspirational-poster sense. I mean it clinically. It's 11:30 on a Wednesday night. I have a 4-year-old who wakes up at 6 a.m. and a 6-month-old who wakes up whenever he feels like it. And I am still sitting here in the dark tweaking a bridge on a song that, by any rational accounting of my life, I absolutely do not have time to be tweaking.
The Honest Part
Some people hear "AI-assisted concept album" and their eyes light up. Those are my people. Others smile in the specific way that means they're trying hard to be supportive of something they privately believe is unhinged. I respect the effort.
I will never play a sold-out show. I will never have the thing that happens in a room when a real band locks in — that physical, communal electricity that no algorithm has figured out how to fake. I cannot tour. I cannot session. Hypersonic Heartline is a laptop project made by a guy with a day job and two kids who goes to bed at 10:30 on a good night. The market for what I do and the market for what professional musicians do are not the same market.
The debut is called Snake Eyes. Twelve tracks. Fast, melodic, occasionally dark. The first time I played the finished opener — alone, headphones on, sitting at the same kitchen table where I answer work emails and pay bills — I felt something I hadn't felt about my own music since I was a freshman walking offstage after "Dammit." The specific feeling that the thing in your head made it out into the world intact. That's not nothing. That's actually the whole thing.
The kid in my parents' basement with the four-piece kit and the Blink-182 CDs? He's been waiting around a long time. Turns out he just needed a laptop, a few guitars, and an AI that doesn't judge you for staying up past midnight on a Wednesday chasing the version of the song that lives in your head.
I still don't know what happened to the bells. I'm pretty sure I never will. And I'm pretty sure that's fine, because it turns out the thing I wanted all along wasn't the bells. It was never the bells. It was always just the next song.
Dispatches
Process notes, demos that didn't make the album, and occasional essays from a laptop project made in the dark.
Read past dispatches →What Happened
2025–26
Demo Wednesdays
15-week series. One track every Wednesday on Instagram. The whole album built in public.
CompleteSnake Eyes — SoundCloud
Full album streaming now. Twelve tracks. All rights reserved.
● Live Now2026
2026
Snake Eyes — Full Distribution
The full album is out on Spotify, Apple Music, and all major platforms. Twelve tracks.
● Out NowConnect
The Demo Wednesdays archive and all ongoing content lives on Instagram. That's where the work happens.
Hypersonic Heartline