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Indianapolis 09:51
Please Excuse Our Mess! Slow down. Now go. Slow down ahead. Nameless, faceless; overlooking the cityscape... like the tower in the Grimm's fairytale, the dawn comes as the sun's rays disappear from your walls. Window washer, what do you see from your vantage point? Do you see miles of lights stretching on the freeway? The red, orange, and yellow, and the glow of fluorescent green. Those auto-mobiles must look like toys from up there, but when the roar of sirens and red and blues lights halt the silence, does your heart skip a beat? I could feel the vibrations. The jackhammers caught my attention. The swivel of the bulldozer's blade, nearly escaped my sight. Stopped, stopped, stopped, and stopped again, watching stone pillars hauled into the air, I caught a glimpse of the final reflection off the windows being cast by the sun. Just like when I was younger, standing on the street and looking up, I wonder 'Who is in that window?' and 'What is going on in there?' The nameless and the faceless how many floors how many reflections? Behind each is there a story or an empty desk? or are they stopped right in front of me? The wheels reach the ragged edge, fluorescent green with flag up ahead. In the still of the lane merge I can't help but wonder what could have been. Trapped here in the city, my mind wanders with the wave of the flag. In the heart of the crossroads of the nation, I wonder 'Is "Rapunzel" looking down?' A helicopter in a hurry flutters by, white, flashing lights and propeller whoops match the sounds of the drills and the machines. The story must be big. Far off the in distance, the reason for the halt appears. Illuminated, the pyre glows redder than the machine lights. Rising smoke floats from the dancing flames. I approach ever slowly, the lick of the flames grazes my passenger door. Hurry, hurry--move along, calm and orderly but with purpose. Blue and red and white silhouettes the men directing traffic in the turmoil. The blaze is dancing in the windows on the structures on the cityscape. Onward, forward, not till the news will we know if they contained the blast. Nameless, faceless; looking back at the buildings in the rearview mirror, An old office building, now condemned, passes along the driver's side. The smoke dissipates from sight, and out the windows, no one looks back at me.
Roll Your Step Lyrics I miss something about those autumn nights. I remember... When illuminated by stadium lights, and the babble of a thousand voices fashioned ambience... The details, now, have dissipated, but I remember... On nights when the temperature drops, and the smell of dew is thick from freshly fallen rain, I remember... I remember those autumns passed, I miss autumns passed, but that is all I miss.
Terrestrial 05:58
Hollowing 10:21
Hollowing. I saw the construction worker drilling and spraying chips of concrete across the city sidewalks, shrapnel from the hole he bore, diffusing stones we'll find underfoot. The lick of the flames incinerated the car's interior. Into the air the black smoke rose. Fused together pieces of metal, under the welder's torch, brings new life to useless pieces, born from molten heat and flying sparks. Waves clash upon one another in endless cycles from stones cast on a sunny day to the violence of a storm Waves are like memories one washing upon another's shore a stone falling from a height will trigger a chain reaction of waves. A storm approaches on radar moving in from the west Nearby was a touchdown sight the leaves on the trees are accompanied by a roar. After the storm I saw a yellow sky at night one giant cloud in the sky. Where will I go now that it's all disappeared?
North on 65 03:11
Nonetheless 20:13
Nonetheless. The lights went dim without a sign The room was cast in black Our bodies strained and tired and seeking rest We waited. When will this shiver fade and when may we breathe? The safety lights lit up the space. I uncrossed my hands. Guided by an inward force I rose to my feet And I stood once again. Hollowed from within, wounds take time and care to heal. No one will take this step in your place, so get up. Lift your foot. Lift your foot. No one will take this step in your place. Lift your foot. Lift your foot. No one can take this step in your place. Push on through. Push on through. New earth waits with each new step you take. Push on through. Push on through. No one will take this step in your place. I knew you from afar. I heard your breath when I was blind. Something reached through to me. A faint spark that stood my hairs on end. I wonder if we'd ever passed. Had we brushed one another in a crowded hall? I felt the heat from your skin, So closely we must have sat in the dark. Finally the time has come On my feet I am ready to run I can go anywhere, and where I go will always be with you. The autumn breeze drifts away the snow will come at any time I can see my breath in the chill And I can't help but laugh at seeing yours The road was rough and with it came doubts and fears and trepidation but seeing the breath escape your lips I feel the warmth of exhilaration The warmth, the warmth beckons me but in truth still I'm blind. While enamored in your aura's glow I've never said the words outright. (Lift up your foot. Lift up your foot. Etc... Push on through. Push on through. Etc...) Am I too late? Am I too late? When I reach where you were my fingers grasp only air. Where have you gone? Where have you gone? Despite this history I possess I will tell you-- I struck the match, and my eyes could see. These feet, these hands, these imperfect eyes These callused fingers and grey hair, These facial lines, this weakened kind; These hopes, these fears, these memories; are what it took for me to arrive Whatever road these feet must take, Wherever these eyes must search, However high with these hands I climb, Love remains, and it brought me to you.


'Indianapolis' is an amalgam of several styles of music and music theory concepts, married together in a complex, yet cohesive, way that makes you forget that you are listening to obscure instruments. There is no sense of novelty about it. Each instrument is a contributing voice to a larger ensemble, playing some of the most difficult and enjoyable music to come from the Avant-Garde rock genre.
All of the music is composed by Moore, featuring guest vocals from Ivy Bott and Cory Wright. The three musicians meld their talents to establish a huge texture of sound and complexity. Moore is an admitted fan of highly technical music, but he has a different idea of musical texture and flow.
It has been said that there is music for dancing and music for appreciating. Generally these are broken into overarching genres like 'pop,' 'art music,' or the improvisational bridge of the two, 'jazz.' Moore wishes to create music for the listening and the analyzing audiences that requires a high level of musicianship to perform and will keep tone- and rhythm-chasers enjoying each new listen, while also conveying enough emotional content to keep a driver from skipping ahead to the next track on a long-distance journey. There is a lot of music that can be enjoyed from an analytical or in passive listening, and Moore believes that he has created just that.
While highly diverse, the album is cohesive. Each track fits into a larger picture. From the perspective of narrative, the album works from large to small, moving from the city to the suburbs to country roads and back. In similar and intentional manner, it works from an indifferent perspective of situation and surrounding to a matured, romanticized one of its protagonist. The album is made to be heard as a whole, and it really is a journey worth experiencing.


released October 17, 2015


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Andrew Moore's Chamber Works Indianapolis, Indiana

Andrew Moore is a composer and percussionist from Indianapolis, Indiana, specializing in steel drum and drum set performance.

A lifelong performer of orchestral, jazz, and rock music, his compositions feature characteristics from various genres. Complex rhythms, meter shifts, unique instrumentation, and swells in texture are key features to his compositional style.
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