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Santander​/​All That I Knew

by Mock Suns

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    12" Vinyl Record with hand screen-printed chipboard jacket & book tape reinforced spine. Each record comes with all four 12" X 12" art prints on heavy weight 260 gsm lustre paper, with lyrics and credits from corresponding songs on back.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Santander/All That I Knew via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 2 days
    edition of 100 
    Purchasable with gift card

      $20 USD or more 

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  • Digital Album
    Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Includes 4 high resolution artwork images and digital booklet with lyrics and credits.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $7 USD  or more

    You own this


Got the news today, things have finally changed; at last. So much time has passed. Looking past the wing, I'm remembering how I always thought this ride would be on a train through the countryside.
The metal shines like silver, from clammy hands, holding on like mine. A single page worth reading in this magazine is proving hard to find. Tilted back just slightly, I'm unconvinced; for comfort can't be faked. Wrestling time in limbo; for I am not sleeping or awake. They will all be waiting as I step outside, with eager eyes so wide. Just like in the pictures, the black and white, forever in my mind.
Burnin’ 03:26
Santander 06:13
Santander never felt like home. Something there kept troubled thoughts unknown. In the air, the warm south wind had blown; for both those days, across the bay. In time, my skin forgave the sun. Still, my mind was never one. Santander, I came back for you. Just being there proved what I thought I knew. In the air, the southern wind still blew; for both those days, and fanned the flames. And again, our fate lies there in the wind, hard as it's always been. Could it be that you'll drift off peacefully? Or whirl back 'round taunting me. And if when, someday we do meet again, will you still know me?
Everything just as it was, yet somehow so foreign from everything I knew and loved. Everyone just as they were, only a few years older. Now I am the foreigner.
The Bend 05:40
Pedaled uphill for so long; my legs all but forgot about the burn. In a sense, the signs weren't wrong; just passed each opportunity to turn. We're all lifers at the start, as we wedge a few cards between our spokes. But who can fault a change of heart? Can't argue when it pays to lose your hope. But still I'm overjoyed. Though they no longer see the point to pedal onward null and void, I cannot turn around now. Now as far as I'm concerned, every house on this street's unoccupied. A telling moment when you learn you're alone in a city of this size. Even if I took the bend, I doubt things would have worked out differently. Cause everything that happened then is still happening, and very well may always be. But still I'm overjoyed. Though they no longer see the point to pedal onward null and void, you know I may as well now.
I've never known if wet hair, cold toes, or smoke woke me; likely a combination of all the three. Light bent by water droplets recalled a camera's flash, seen from the losing end of a dizzying match. Across the soggy field, the smoke had begun to rise; a sign so often loathed, now a sight for sore eyes. It had been years since nightfall, if only in my thoughts, but I am picking right up from where I'd left off. For my lifetime, that place will be there; but what happened I choose to leave there.
I've been taking the train home. The summer light keeps me sane; though, fall's around the corner. The ride's not much like the screens say. The fields aren't ochre or green. They run for miles and smother bright, or any other, tiny hints of color. Why the light is so glaring, fluorescent white, and impairing's past my comprehension. The moulding stripped from the ceiling; the caked-on paint, always peeling; clearly times are different. Clearly times are different. Though I’ve never lived it, somehow I still miss it. You always say you've found out how you can slow it down; to live always in the now. Well, I wish you'd show me how. I'm still taking the train home, where I go I can't explain though. I am rarely present. The images I imagine are clearer than you can fathom. So, I will remember places I have never been to whatsoever.
Sunday morning, long before church. Comb your hair up, tuck in your shirt. You go outside; you get to work. Your best clothing; all that you're worth, covered in dirt. So much pride pours out every time that you break the earth. There was nothing but stone and root in the ground at first. Begs the question; what have I done that bears any worth? Wasting away, sunburnt and drunk, just stuck in the surf. Stuck in the surf. You mean to tell me that in coming here, you really thought that you were in the clear?
Last Time 03:50
Each time one of these moments ends, you fear another one's never gonna come again like the last time; when it was the last time. And although it's unlikely, we still know this just may be the last time that we will all pass time. This isn't the last time… We'll all be in the morning news, and it's unlikely that we're ever gonna end up choosing the headline, when it is the last time. Maybe so, but you still would rather know when it will be the last time; before it's the last time. This isn't the last time… Each time one of these moments ends, you fear another one's never gonna come again like the last time; when it was the last time. We're still young… for the moment. More will come. Once again for the last time, this isn't the last time.
June 03:01
You leaned on the frame in the doorway; backlit, still, so statuesque like fired clay. Strong, fixed like a tight tongue and groove; I swore walls would fall down every time you moved. Now, as I look out toward the entrance, I still see you there as if you'd never left. The letters you left in your drawers, technically now mine, will still always be yours. The windows creak more in your absence. Floorboards still squeak; faucets leak no more or less. I'll try to keep weeds from the beds. When the iris bloom in June I’ll dye them red.
That warm sand was the first dry land I could stand fearless upon; never more sure and wrong; blissfully strung along, with every psalm. But Santander was a young man’s care. I’m aware, what I’ve become is a communal sum. My dream’s a loaded gun; hurts more than one. Yearning; it’s something that I am learning, slowly, how to keep from turning into a swell that may, one day, wash me away. These four walls, and the unkept sprawl of the tall conifer trees; I guess that they chose me; not a bad place to be, by any means. Every time that you come to mind, I’ll resign all that I knew; completely rebuild you; water and sky more blue; but I don't want to. Got the news today, things have finally changed.


Santander/All That I Knew is, at it’s thematic core, a record about inner irresolution; The crippling task of weighing the options, and the universal, looming feeling of what could be possible if only time was not so linear. Traveling to one place while dreaming of another. Longing for home while fleeing from your past. Chasing a dream while embracing your reality.

Evident by it’s split title, this dichotomy also rings true in a musical sense. Divided into two halves, each containing two suites of three songs, the album is evenly segmented yet unified, a concept album clearly intended to be experienced as a whole.

Primarily recorded over the first nine months of 2013 at familiar locations throughout the Mid Atlantic, the sessions combined the flexible mobile recording process that the band has come to know and love with a recording atmosphere that changed with the seasons; from a snowy winter cabin in central Pennsylvania to the Delaware beaches in late Spring. The album got it’s finishing touches at Waking Studio in Philadelphia, where it was mixed by Bill Moriarty before being mastered by Joe Lambert at JLM sound in Brooklyn.


released April 29, 2014

All songs written by Mock Suns. All lyrics written by Greg Puglese. Vocals, Guitar, Piano, Synthesizer, Keyboards, Samples, Various Percussion and Effects performed by Greg Puglese. Bass Guitar, Upright Bass, and Electric Piano on “June” performed by Stephen DiRomualdo. Drums and Various Percussion performed by Tom Magliaro. Produced and recorded by Greg Puglese at various locations in Pine Grove, PA, Lewes, DE, West Chester, PA, Honey Brook, PA, and Philadelphia, PA, December 2012 through August 2013. Mixed by Bill Moriarty at Waking Studio in Philadelphia, PA, September 2013 through December 2013. Mastered by Joe Lambert at JLM Sound in Brooklyn, NY, January 2014. All Artwork and Design by Greg Puglese. ℗ & © 2014 Mock Suns.


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Mock Suns Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Dreamy pop with a psychedelic tinge.

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