by Night Grinder

  • Cassette + Digital Album

    Orange cassette, sheathed in a printed o-card, protected by a stamped homemade aluminum box. Stamp color varies.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Animus via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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released January 27, 2018

Jim Fitzpatrick: Vocals on track 10, electric guitar on tracks 2 and 5
Niza Volair: Vocals on track 6, additional vocals on tracks 1 and 7
Josh King: Vocals on tracks 6 and 13
Rooster Jake: Vocals on track 3
Thomas Knecht: Mixing on track 1

All other vocals, instrumentation, recording, and mixing by Brad Schumacher

Mastered by Ian Campbell at Afterpostmodernism in Denver Colorado

Released on Fourfold Records - FF2

Art Direction, makeup, and photography by Niza Volair

SuperCollider syntheses was enabled by Bhob Rainey’s Xynthi interface
Keys were enhanced by the circuit bending of David Bell


all rights reserved



Night Grinder Denver, Colorado

Night Grinder is Brad Schumacher who lives in Denver, formerly St. Louis.

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Track Name: Hidden Bonus
Vision narrows tight around a clouded mind
Loss of contact with the now
Trapped in a past without future

But, wait!
There’s much more than this. So close to me all along, just reach out and grab it.
Take a plane to Busan.
Now I’m living on impulse with my dreams in the shadow of me.
Resist the creeping dread.. something that’s nothing, indeed

I didn’t change, yet I feel completely different.. the same as always, yet now I am free.
Track Name: On the Corner
Count on comparing for your mental health? You’ve made a promise to destroy yourself.
Out on the corner watching day mares pass? Hold up the border. Don’t fall for that.
“Well, I guess, at least, I’m not that bad.”
You’ve scooped out your brains. Can’t you understand?

Up in the attic, under the static, there burns a light that only I’ll ever see.
Without a question avoid suggestion that I could be anyone other than me.

When you associate your situation best to keep it at just inspiration.
Out on the corner, always confused, talking to shadows (fake versions of you…)
“If only X. If only I’d chose.”
You’re only feeding your hungry ghost.
Track Name: B.J.W.F.K. feat. Rooster Jake
We keep it cooking in the kitchen fixing up a system to exist in. Sit then. Give a listen.
Gift a gift when you need a lift and ignore the rift and sort and sift through what you did and who did it with you.
One by one ’til a new list is full then dismiss instances that don’t fit to you.
Then play a game, or go back to work and think it’s lame, or get Rick James-famous and go down in flames.
It’s all the rage that it’s all the same.

Molecule, saw you walking and didn’t follow you. Hollow school, now I’m cool. Follow through. Jump shot!
Chump not getting humped a lot, but your beats ain’t got the thump we got.

Victim of the system. Innocent resistance. Sitting on a shit list. What the cluck is this?
Witness contradiction exist in non-fiction. Sew up the throw up with stitches. Woke up and broke up the stiffness.
Tired… never mind, I’m wired. I quit before I could get fired.
Basic jaded wasted fake kids.. but we all grow up. Go to global headquarters. Blow it all up.

Not a model citizen, committing countless crimes just fitting in. Discipline. Interesting, ain’t nobody listening listing them.
Simpleton thoughts at the top of the list… rather get lost in the fog and the mist.
Track Name: Use Your Words
Choose your words and actions for they are all you ever have for sure.
Strength comes from inner core. Patience and trust will open the door.

Hey… it’s so good to see you.
Hey… I wanna be with no one else but you.
You can sit on the couch and feel me out. It’s a gift to you. (Fuck!)
Hey. You make me feel so happy. I’m crazy about you.
Track Name: Toadstyle A feat. Toad Spokes & Sugar Glider
Aggro-silly, coming out swinging, toadally tone-deaf but you still keep singing.
It's BYO, but you don't know the heat we're bringing.
By the end of this track all your ears will be ringing because we've got the circuits and the expertise.
A three ring circus, and I'm driving clown car!
I can break the rhythm and patch it up with ease. You chumps on roller skates and I'm driving a town car.
I just let it happen, jowls flapping. The howl jumps out my throat, at the door wrapping like lightning in my vessels.
Pure night ground in the mortar and pestle..
A lichen in a field of blurred vision..
Shadows, and the smell of earth under my nails..
neck hairs risen.

If you're not ready to step into the C.A.G.E. then you're not down to hang with me and B.R.A.D.
Best ground yourself before you get night grinded.
You don't have the first clue, but you about to find it:
Toad style, cycling, bicycle kick..
My raps are all tacky, but none of it sticks.
If you pulled my card, you about to get tricked.
Toad's tongue known for spitting and the way he luh-luh-luh..

Smoking pipe bongs, glitter bombs explode.
Later, getting mobile with that K.C. toad.
Light it up on the 4th, drink it up from the fifth.
Rubbing hearts, touching butts, some swear I’m a myth.
Just pictures and letters, pop rocks and sodas, double-dimensional, multi-exposure.

Exponential to the past, somehow, engage whole days in a free-fall.
Oh wow! You go down on me now from canopies of trees, caging at the ball.
I’m phasing in and out of your mind night crawling along the timeline.
Not a second to squander, I put the “lust” in wander.
Track Name: Friendly Fire
I thought that I couldn’t know. I thought it’d be too much.
But now I bathe in the flow, and it toughens my love.
Cause I’m a (the) fox like none other. Sugar Glider drinks my blood. Paints a mural with her tongue. Dries me out in the sun.
Track Name: Delayed Reaction
Life would be grand if I could budge one inch - if a selfless motion didn’t leave me bent.
Kick aside the crutches. Climb up out of my head.

You’d don’t get to level up! You don’t get a free lunch! You don’t care!!!

Caught up in apathy, the constant formality, you’re saving for chivalry and resting on your pedigree (your spiritual currency.)

Set my mind three feet past the back of my skull. Rotating cylinder hovers in front of my nose.
My eyes roll back. My throat gets tight.

Fly down from the sky. Change everything in my life, because now I’m looking down from a mountain of destructive compromise. Straight down is where I’ll fly.
Track Name: Beijing
So what, if I’m afraid? I guess now I have to be brave.
You say you’re looking out for me. Well, so am I. Won’t you see?
I’d rather try to keep up than settle for less. I guess I’m done being impressed with the excess of rest.
Track Name: Temporalist feat. Jim Fitzpatrick
……………………………………… Awake.

Bulldozed head. Gas station coffee brewed in my kitchen.
I dress myself without a mirror and walk out the door.
The sky is not on fire yet. The planes are not falling out of the sky yet.
The same death walk of the morning commute is underway.
I feel suspicious as I sit in traffic and a car idles to my left.
“Did you do this? Are you responsible? Do you have a gun in your glove compartment that you keep just in case I ask you this question?”
I fantasize about your car flipping and you breaking through the windshield.
You are pinned to the pavement, and your face is pushing against broken glass, bleeding.

The light changes, and I speed on.

I look in the rear view and see the kids on the sidewalk walking to school where they will be taught about respect, about compassion, to treat people as they’d like to be treated.
The sun hits me in the eyes as I hit the highway. I punch my steering wheel until I cut my hand.
This hate isn’t me, but it’s mine today.
I can see through the cars as I drive. I can see through the future corpses as they drive.
The fabric that holds all of this together is thin, and it’s resting above a sea of matches under the concentrated light of the sun, harnessed by a magnifying glass, in the hands of a laughing drooling maniac.
Track Name: America Dirge
Shadows of trees, black rain on the breeze, a careless pyrocumulus dream….

Ash covers my shoes. What did I have to lose from a discussion I avoided with you?
Track Name: Toadstyle B feat. Toad Spokes
H. Weaseltooth landed off-center of the scene, bass guitar in my off-hand.
+6 Sickle-Of-Dreams paints your chest red. Max tweaker in your speakers and you're already dead. Sugar Glider on my right, Toad Spokes in the back, open wide and you decide if these snacks satisfy cause I heard you were famished, so I'm serving you planets.
A unanimous Animus to keep with your cannabis.. a better door than a window, with no innuendo.. a better window than a door if I offhandedly vanish….

The frog with the most, I kick it right off the post.
Pass through you like a ghost, and I don't mean to boast, but
I put the "age" in "cage” and I'm the Page Master.
The way you set your serve up is a Total Disaster.
Now listen to me bloke, this game is no joke.
Take a page from old Spokes, before you find yourself... I don't know... croaked.

You know my St. Louis crew is the coolest, strolling down South City streets getting foolish.
We all laughing and ye all still be clueless.
Strut up to the cage and I'm all like “Let’s do this!”

Most people don't like seeing me go off the rails.
Spelling out your fate, E-P-I-C fails.
A tad more than a tad pole
blazed, still blazing trails.
Off the top of the fence, and still the ball sails
through the air I just knocked out of your entrails.
My friend, you're starting to look just a little bit, um, pale.
Track Name: Keeping Secrets
I’ll do it. The promise is the secret. I’ll follow through. Excuses are the weakness.
No, not a clue to what I have for you.

(I’m too hard for art and noise. I don’t like to share my toys. Forget the sound of my own voice.)

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