Saturday, October 16, 2010

'Mind Flowers, pretty mind flowers'

- lyrics by Ultimate Spinach, Mind Flowers. Listen here

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

'We, staring through thick glass, pray not only for their daily bread, but also for their daily illusion.'

- Thomas Pynchon

Live music is disarming. It is like no other art form because you are experiencing creation and exhibition simultaneously. You are part of it, and it is a part of you; two entities running parallel, both entangled in the same sound energy. In a good performance you will have no control over your submission, the feeling will be insatiable because you are witnessing something that lives, that is why your body quivers with the sound vibrations. A good live performance will rewire your sensory perceptions and you will be aroused before you are able to intellectualise what you hear and feel. You will become mentally and physically enslaved. In this sense, live music questions the nature of creation in that it captures the purity of a creative moment. Which is, something that is never tangible, always suspended in time and space, and dissolves immediately after into ash; a collection of dried bone fragments where a topography of the mind once hung.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

'Thoughts from moving mountains'

- lyrics by Autolux, Highchair. Listen here


A shadowgraph in the shape of a woman

Constellations hanging loose over her shoulders;
discarded fairy lights
Her palms creased by the sea
Tear ducts shaded in with led
Tectonic plates shifting under her heels
Waiting to be pulled out from underneath
The earth a rug, textured with life
- sigh

'I'm tired of standing here casting shadows'

'Write the imperishable in the sand'
- Andre Breton

Every pull must be counter balanced with a push, like the great suck and blow motion of the sea. Every word written, every footprint left will be brushed away with the swoop of an omnipotent hand. The canvas will be clean, pure, undebased and you will be free. When the time comes, the invisible ink will swell and you will feel the indents like braille under the thumb. A labyrinth of lines and shapes for you to follow, but you will not be lost, you will know your way, with a compass in your chest, ticking. The echo will sound in your ear and find its way down the back of your neck, your spine, the tops of your thighs, and you will tremble, and the world will tremble with you.