Every band needs an anthem, and this is ours. Mostly because it contains our name and explains, somewhat inaccurately, the experience of listening to us. The song describes a complicated, yet cheaply built vending machine that promises an impossible reward for a measly nickel. Much like the machine, the band operates on low-grade mechanical energy that is optimized to generate a sound that is "almost, mostly, something not quite finished yet." We figure if we set the bar low enough, anything we produce, even a basic folk tune, can feel like a radical, electrical, fully scientifical miracle. This is the soundtrack to all of our lowest expectations.

5¢ Miracle (Sethares & Marcotte)

A nickel in the slot. You’ve hit the jackpot
It whirs and clicks with a comical flair
Then a small door opens and it all starts to happen
A miracle leaps in the air

It juggles some logic, then flips into nonsense
It’s made of impossible thread
A 5¢ invention, beyond comprehension
That dances like a dream in your head

Chorus:
It’s a radical, electrical, fully scientifical miracle vending machine
It’s 2¢ spectacle, 2¢ innovational, 1¢ no one knows what it means
It’s a 5¢ miracle

It clanks with conviction, then hisses predictions
A piston in a chromium drone
Its sprockets all chatter in syncopated patter
Like logic rehearsing a poem

It ticks like a watch made of wind-up intentions
Quantum joy in a candy-sized burst
It pirouettes sideways, then backwards through Mondays
As if time itself was reversed

Move in close, nose pressed against the glass
Wide eyed, surprised at what’s about to happen
Wishes, hopes, and dreams in the currency of time
Oh but miracles, only half a dime!

It flickers with meaning, then slips into seeming
A riddle that folds into regret
It’s maybe, it’s folksy, it’s almost, it’s mostly
Something not quite finished yet