Awakening Stardust

by The Oust

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about

The Oust was a band from St. Louis that first formed in late 2004 among Jon Fournier, Zane Omohondro, and Josh King. The trio met at Webster University through a musicians collective (Guitar Instrumentalists' Guild) and recorded their 10,000 Flakes EP in Minnesota in 2005. They then recruited Pat Corrigan on bass and Ben Majchrzak on drums. The group recorded multiple tracks through the audio engineering program at Webster and played a collection of shows around St. Louis through 2006.

Corrigan was replaced by Benjamin Roig, and Fournier shifted to a more technical role involved in engineering and production. The new 4-person lineup continued to play, record, and write through early 2007, until stylistic differences ultimately led to the group disbanding.

Awakening Stardust is a posthumous release that encompasses the entire history of The Oust. The band's 3- 5- and 4-person iterations are represented here, in addition to some individual ideas/takes that were used in the writing process.

credits

released December 31, 2014

Performed by:
Zane Omohundro: Piano, Keyboard
Josh King: Guitar, Vocals
Jon Fournier: Guitar, Vocals
Ben Majchrzak: Drums
Pat Corrigan: Bass, Guitar
Ben Roig: Bass
Kensuke Kajita: Wood Block

Engineering by Jon Fournier, Asher Mendel, Larry Morris, Sahila Topon, Ben Majchrzak, and Josh King.

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Entropical Fruit Productions Saint Louis

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Track Name: Descent of Pentagons
As she moved
wrapped up in her cocoon of blue
and soaked through,
I was transcended to no end,
as lightning crashed and raindrops passed.
Joined in convergence,
but not jointly.
Just point me in the right direction.

And what were my intentions?
In forbidden love and suggestive sleep?
Submit to divine intervention--
the adoration found in the secrets that we keep.

This is the time when I lose my mind,
constantly preoccupied
with Southern winds and other hints
of majesty and mystery

Inside jokes and nuances
are bones within these walls.
The bubbles and marbles were destroyed
you sad and silly boyo
and I await and contemplate our past and future calls.

You will wait until tomorrow,
and I am left picking up the pieces of your sorrow.

(Uno, dos, tres)

I will explain the joy and the pain
in the recent light of where I belong.
The sadness remains, but the balance is sustained
in the Descent of the Pentagons.
Track Name: At A Loss
It's 2:00am, and I just read your letter.
We spoke of "importance," and now I finally agree--
but I must admit, I thought of not opening it.
I thought of saving it for a time when its contents wouldn't kill me
or excite and thrill me with inquiries derived from my insecurities.

But things are going well. Quite well actually.

I initially looked at it like an ending:
no metaphors or analogies.
But between the unknown variables
of the future and myself,
I've come to realize that real ties may never have existed
between you and me.
Two or three times I've wanted you again.
I'm at a loss for where this all begins.

But it all makes sense. It all adds up in the end.

Well that's one more thing that I don't have to worry about, I guess.
It's one more thing that I don't have to see.
Track Name: Bookstore
The bookshelves were lined with a thousand
worries and fears from the past
but here we were, hoping that, because of each other,
all that shit would fade out fast
...fade at last...
the stone was cast....
 
and now I ask no more
questions. It's you that I adore.
So please, whisper once more
everything I need to hear
 
between the shelves
of Dickenson and Yeats
the words rush through the floodgates
and how much longer will we have to wait
to make up all the time lost in three years

in the bookstore my dear
 
Shall I compare you to a midsummer night's dream?
What's in a name but what it seems?
A valediction forbidding good morning
at the divergence in a yellow wood heed the warning
to the virgins to make the best of times
and the worst of rhymes
between doctor seuss and mothergoose
and what is truth
but lonely lies
and firy eyes
and fire and ice
will not suffice
 
and now I ask you to follow me
blindly through what is and is not to be
come and allow us both to see
glimpses of love and deepest fear
 
under the spells
of Goodfellow and Queen Mab
to taste of passion and truly be saved
the sweet thrill within these sour waves
of the nuances and tones inside of your ears
in the bookstore my dear
Track Name: Red Head Daughter (TBAAABTBAAFA)
Pretty wishes turn to sun-kissed goldfishes waiting at the bottom of a wishing well.
I wish you well.
A red head daughter, me a proud-ass father
is all I want.
You walk and talk too fast for me
my friend.
Track Name: The Scripted Calliope
I guess we lived up to our name.
But the music still feels the same to me.
We had a good run
And we had some good fun
But it was just too hard to see:
It simply wasn’t meant to be.
It looks like it’s time to move on,
Abandon the unfinished songs.
Tears come to my eyes as I think
about all the shit that went wrong.
I want to believe it doesn’t matter
That the friendships weren't actually shattered
Riddled with the stones thrown in our glass house
The calliope beckoned back The Oust.

Moving in different directions
We held our secret elections.
You probably won't believe me
But I did stick up for you.
And I tried to explain.
But thinking of the memories I cried
As we went our separate ways.
A legacy left in suspension,
I just hope you can understand my intentions, were good.
"These are my thoughts and you can do with them what you will."
And I revisit them still.
Optimism is a good policy
In the absence of a modicum of honesty?
We secretly hoped that it would all just work out.
I know it's a long shot but it's something I think about.

I see.
We flew the closest that we ever were,
Despite those powershifts that occurred.
Looking back, we paid the cost
And we’re are all at a loss
A whole bookstore and we can’t find the words.
In the end the pollution reduced us to philosophers.
Definitely a descent
Respect replaced with the contempt
We’ll live knowing we missed
Our pretty wishes of music, life, and (I thought you were) happiness.
So on the old assumption I’m dedicating
The fruits of our labor, abdicating
And Ellen Just absolving all of us
Of the nails of pain,
To Josh, Jon, Ben, Pat, Ben, and Zane.