by Promontory

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Facsimile is a 6 song EP by studio project Promontory. Following up from their demo released in 2015, they have continued to push their punk/metal roots and chaotic time key signatures, all the while keeping a kind of melodic beauty to the cacophony.
'Confined' should be the last word to ever describe the music of Promontory. No bars. No limits. From chaos, strong emotions, and melancholic storms it seems that between both founding members, any bit of influence and inspiration is up for the taking.
Lyrically, Facsimile touches on the limits of our dichotomies, all the while dissecting similarly themed films. Lyrics are conceived from not only self reflection, but an artistic interpretation that leaves listeners trying to solve the puzzle and connect the dots, all while being left with thoughts and feelings of themselves and the world around them.
Musically you are blindsided by a violent wave, yet an overpowering sense of self control. Through the musicality bleeds all the notes of a truly classically trained composing style countered by a love of modern musical blasphemy. Noise. Raw and gut wrenching sonics.


released June 1, 2016

recorded by Jeff Leber at the Noise room.

guitars/bass: Steve Sciazko

percussion: Austin Schramm

vocals/graphic design: Andy Sciazko

additional vocals on Introduction/Madam, Keep Doubting:
Mary Syring

Steve would like to thank: Austin Schramm. we will be writing music together, spinning records, and drinking nelson's until we die. thank you for making it work. awe howler- jeff, ryan , josh. i made you myself. bleak. matt and his jam barn. rene, gregg, Ande, Sawyer- keeping me grounded. wookie. cat. frank. nikki and sean. chris, roscoe. bendetto. kohler. bill the punman. Brendan May, sleep well friend. i thought a lot about you over the months, always waiting for you to tell me i was either doing good or bad with this. shake the pillars of heaven bud, the check is in the mail. Miah. Jasmine

Andy would like to thank: jeffy, the brown, austin, my chum, Brendan, ben, the wook, awe howler, i made you myself, bleak, hell mary, Optik, employed to serve, ithaca, nicolas winding refn, kiyoshi kurosawa, kim jee-woon, andrzej zulawski, pascal laugier, and jesse hawthorne ficks.



all rights reserved


Promontory Chicago, Illinois

studio project.

Metallic. Punk. Violent. Emotional.

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Track Name: Introduction.
These hearts we're running on are far from the first set we're given.
Track Name: For Jodorowsky.
These hands, they don't work like they once did.
Ghost appendages. I've learned a different way.
Seeing only the present riches. Rerouting hearts I've stopped.
I thought I found my way back (peddle your young).
I thought I could touch again (exploit your sons).
In the Harlot's House, everything is eventual.
Infrared marital bed.
I have my pride.
Cutting corners; false archive.
I am what I am, nothing more.
Clasped in prayer; severed on the floor.
You never understood me?
I never will.
Track Name: X.
Wide lens. Vacant.
Wandering without lust.
Violent entertainment. (Tell me about yourself)
Contain it. (Dormant hatred)
Crawling in sight, I could leave you alone but I've seen you burn out lights.
We're all transparent.
Rehearsed our lines for interrogation.
What are these roles we love? As magnetic as animals?
These things break when nothing goes our way.
We will go about our lives in living black and white.
I can't stop. Is this always how you thought?
Hold your tongue. The irony of getting what you want.
Wired pulled automatons.
Break the mold, hide in tropes. Philosophy's gone cold.
Is this always how you thought?
Track Name: Rose//Lotus
My thoughts and treasures have been here forever.
Don't make that mistake.
Arms can reach far.
Roots can pull deep.
Red is the clutter we keep for each other.

Always hating. Always building family from sickness.
I won't ever let it happen.
Like all Flowers in the Attic,
they draw a sky to show our eyes limits.
Raising another's young; inviting tongues that all went drone.

This house won't leave me the hell alone.
Track Name: Possession.
The wall. What we want.
To our backs, in the courtyard.
Not what we feel, but what we need.
It's not decided when we bleed
out a canvas that documents harbored thoughts in cement.
Breathe it all. Sister Chance and Cold War.
Separate beings.
For the first time, you are vulgar to me.
But I can't be what you've built me to be.
Sailors will hold their breath in a house that manifests a life lived best.
We're all compliant hostages.
I've thought it pragmatic of you to reduce us to stutter.
Separate beings.
Track Name: Madam, Keep Doubting.
(These are the conversations we have when we die)
The boards have their teeth.
This house is a mask, it's me.
Returned bearing grief. I'll make believe
that this fortunate find could mean everything.
Dancing with the rest; a kind of transcendence.
You can pick it apart; pull off the skin.
Red Herring or not, this is where we begin.
Beat to a pulp, our ghosts are kept from us.
But what we pass off as fodder and feed one another
shares the same traits as bridges that friends venture off of.
Grievances whispered will be your to treasure.
I've been waiting for years.
And after all this wreck I can sleep again.
Categorizing sects, I can sleep again.

I've been waiting for years.