Spruce Leaves

Spruce Leaves

 Cincinnati, Ohio, USA

We are attempting to create pop music that maintains accessibility through familiar sounds while still achieving musical integrity by redefining form and the general goal of a song.


I, Andy Hoerst, am hopelessly intrigued by music and its seemingly infinite purposes and implementations. I listen to and love a wide gamut of musical styles, including classical and most popular genres, so instead of sorting music by style to discover what I like and find interesting, I sort by merit. A good piece of music is something that achieves its goal or at least appears to achieve its goal, and presents an interesting and original goal.


Pulchritudinous Pluviosity

Written By: Andy Hoerst

As my eyes sigh, I see grey shades of blue.
My time's counterclockwise once my memories start to bruise.
Thus flies the fledgling summertime and with it thoughts of youth.
I find the beauty rise and fall into the new.

Sword Through The Face

Written By: Andy Hoerst

I walk through the mirror,
feeling happy, sad, and dumb.

Broken shards in empty yards of other men like me.
Distilling labored efforts of the burning sea of bricks,
In which I laid down what I meant.

Stuffing all my bones inside this cold and skinny box.
I am a harbinger of nothing that I want.

Devil schemes of elephants and other things that make no sense.
Well they make sense to me.

Is Is Is But Isn't Isn't

Written By: Andy Hoerst

Searchin for pearls in our pockets of wisdom,
Sayin bye to some girls as we wished that we'd kissed 'em.
Drunken abrasions and pithy aphasia,
My manners were sweet until something came over me.
Now I try to sleep but I feel the lights fading,
It's hard to stay still while the whole world's vibrating, see,
I know that words and geometry aren't.
I'm sailing through a ruse in the mind of an orange.

My brain's stuck in wilderness as my feet start to wander.
Life feels just like fiction so if I think it, is it gone, or
Are my chemical signals just victims to a beast,
That feeds on sideways logic and dances at my feet?
Melancholic birds are chirping at my bedside,
Saying: "Yours are lovely words that will soon grow if fed right."

Circus eyes see these whistling novices
Walking through crowded streets just passing up promises of
Bouncing through the atmosphere of happy madness style.
I burn this cigarette as I watch sadness smile.

Everybody's Got Their Own Reality

Written By: Andy Hoerst

Everybody's got their own reality, swimming.
Two birds floating side by side, no one's winning. Let it fly.
And everyone's drinkin from the same cold water.
Thinkin with dreams and make themselves a martyr. Let em die.
Nearly free but really stuck in context.
Invent another life but merely act in reflex. It's all for show.
A voice in the balance amid all creation.
Cement in your lungs will transform into pavement. Watch it grow.
Everybody's got their own reality, sinking.
Two rats chokin on the blood no one's drinkin. Let it fly.


EP: "Tremors"-
1. Pulchritudinous Pluviosity
2. Sword Through the Face
3. Is Is Is But Isn't Isn't
4. Everybody's Got Their Own Reality
5. It Sings Me

Set List

Our set consists of tracks 2-5 from our EP plus an unrecorded track called "Human Silk" and an untitled, structured improvisation. Our sets are approximately thirty minutes in length.