4/27/09

A Poem About The Early Morning/I Think Too Much

Bea Arthur is dead......

He fondles his beer and gropes her breast

With of course an unhealthy dose of ego un-laid to rest since christian school

He tells her she's his star while his brother buys them shots at the bar

Logic fell on me last night, like a cartoon piano

Only not enough to kill me but just enough to wake me at 8 am puzzled fuck dumb muzzled 

Corrected I stand erected, are all of my meanderings misdirected ?

Shit is shit, perhaps neither of them remember(know) this

I want to move 

I have to move

Cooped up in the same headplace for too long maybe 

Don't sleep in my bed

Don't call me baby

Your yes' could've only meant maybe

Now you lay on the cot 

While I am forced to dream in arbour's of your own beauty

Fill me up with water, do what your brain can do to dilute me

I'll spill out and you'll still be the same

Yes I find it hard to explain

Why don't you get right on that while I shake and refrain

Is this okay?

I hope everything goes great really

I'll leave eventually 

I could never wish anyone anything horrible 

A friend a friend that is the end a friend of mine

Sorry I took the time.

-Casey

Digg Digg

This is informal, on the fly, sweating into a pile in my room thinking about spain before headin' to the record store prima donnalding. Basically a list  of things I have been getting by on for the last week and as early as just this morning.

The new Cass McCombs record

leaked earlier it's called "Catacombs" and I think it is his best, on the first few listens. The entirety of it has this sort of immaculate sense of logic in songwriting. Really nice tones too, all of his records seem to be growers though. Every time I put one on I am pleasantly surprised to find mr. mccombs still singing his heart out just as much as the first listen. It also doesn't hurt that I saw him live and he killed it, about 7 songs 30-35 minutes full of reverb soaked sad pop. I love it.

Rolling around in the grass all day, is where it's at

Carson Mell is brilliant.

I want a Charlotte Hornets car.

Forward Kwenda

Okay, I will not pretend to know any more about Forward than I do, which is not much.

this is from Mbira.org

"Forward Kwenda was born in the rural Buhera area of Zimbabwe, an area known for its fierce resistance to colonial rulers and respect for Shona tradition. As a young boy, Forward excelled in traditional dance and recitation of ancient poetry. At the age of 10, he began to play ngoma (drums) and hosho (gourd rattles) for his mother's gombwe (rain-making) spirit. He was given the name "Forward" because of his curiosity about many subjects, enthusiastic involvement in many activities and his singing for liberation war freedom fighters.

By 1985, Forward was playing in a unusually complex style - much to the amazement of master mbira players two and three generations his senior. This style was first recorded in 1985 and 1986 by his American friend Glenn Makuna (see MBIRA tapes nos. 56, 57, 58, 143), who dubbed Kwenda the Coltrane of mbira."

Asked about his experience of playing mbira, Forward responds:

"When I pick up my mbira, I don't know what is going to happen. The music just goes by itself, taking me higher and higher until I can end up crying because the music is so much greater than a human being can understand." and "I just have to get out of the way so spirits can make my mbira play - it isn't me - I'm just amazed."

The soft passages created on this album are entrancing like little else. This is a constant saviour for me anytime I just wanna get out of my head for a minute and be in a more subdued frame of mind.

Svikiro: Meditations from a mbira master.

1 Kanhurura (5:19)

2 Gonamombe Rerume (5:58)

3 Zvichapera Chete (6:38)

4 Chipembere Nhimutimu (4:52)

5 Tadzungaira (10:34)

6 Chipembere (7:09)

7 Mukai Tiende (7:20)

8 Mandarendare (5:36)

9 Chipindura (5:34)

10 Mahororo (6:23)

11 Chidhangechidhange (4:41)

Here It!

Nightmare Fodder 2.0

I have been having a really hard time getting my brain into a space where it feels comfortable allowing itself to drift off into the ethers of a healthy 7-8 hours of sleep. When all is calm and I'm left with only the vague silence that becomes Basinski's "Watermusic" and thoughts at the close of the day, my mind finds itself shattered once I do transcend the buzz and hum of whatever appliance or lighting fixture that has been wrongfully installed or conceptually flawed, I find myself in an undesirable place.

I have had more horrific dreams in the last month than I have in the last year. It's always something very personal but at the same time perpetually veiled by an eerie silence and dusk that usually serves to intensify the matter.

My 7 hours are usually punctuated by tosses and turns thus turing my actual sleep schedule into a sort of to be continued set of puzzling revelations and 10 minute staring contests with blackest cavity of my room.

I don't really know what most of this means, to be honest I don't even know why of all things I felt the need to share this, but in any case I did so here it is.

Weirdy McWeirderson

Please do not forget to mention the fact that it was my home.....right you did!

Let me say first, I love living in this neighborhood most of the time and wouldn't trade what I am able to be a part of  because of my situation, for the world.

Let me also say the people who run the IDONTGIVEAFUCKINGSHITABOUTANYTHINGBUTATTENTIONANDSHITPISSINGONENDLESSDICKSTHATMASQUERADEASMICROPHONESFORMYCHARACTERISTCTICALLYANDPROVEN VIA INTERNETWORTHLESSFUCKINGSCHTICKTHATIUSETOGETLAIDBYWOMENWHOHAVENORESPECTFORTHEMSELVESANDREPEATEDLYSUBJECTTHEIRBODIESANDMINDSTOPENISFODORINTHEMODERNDAYSORTOFCOOLCAMEANDCOLLECTEDTYPESHIT

were at my house last night lookin' all SUPERDUPERFUCKINGBOGUSANDWEIRDLIKE(proof in text message form, Lindsay?!?!?!?) inquiring about drugs which occupied said empty pill bottles that my roommate Ben takes from the pharmacy at his work to recycle at home, yes thats how much the people who live here give a shit about things most 10 or 23 year olds forget about after doing cocaine off of total strangers pink floyd records(appropriate RIGHT?!)

So in closing apart from people acting all wild and stuff I'll say what you could've guessed I'd say.

Support your community, you are it, it is you, do what's important for yourself and those that you care about , or even those you get to puke on yer dick at 4am.

Woman is but should no longer remain "nigger of the world"( yes I caught the racist jab schubert and think you'll be shocked to learn of my all none too literal Steve Martin "The Jerk" style child-hood".

Great Architect rules,

See some of you monday, some of you are leaving on this day and it makes me all sad n such.

2 P o E m s

Enlightenment -

Entitlement Enlightenment Entitlement Enlightenment

You are a woman with heart shaped cheeks

Eyes you close and open up like sprinklers in may

Blinks of uncertainty red bulbs flash green

I will adhere and hear your every word if I can

I am a silly tadpole, please go easy with me.

Mary is a poem/song I have been working on for quite some time and now that the lyrics and music are finished I feel good enough about sharing it.

Mary, proud and devastated clearly

Hair brown and soft just as a fairy

Floating in the ethers above the cemetery 

How selfish

How selfish to squash an acorn to make it all your own

Just put it in your pocket and carry it home.

Also, I don't know what to say ever.

For Ex-Lovers Only

Black Tambourine were a four piece from Maryland whose existence was criminally short lived. Fronted by Pam Berry whose voice registers somewhere between Galaxie 500's Naomi and a far less angsty Calvin Johnson. The band released a  few 7"s on Slumberland in the way early nineties, followed by limited touring and the quartet eventually going their own separate ways.

This band has since re-released their entire selection of recordings on Slumberland a handful of years back. The style and aesthetic has very blatantly influenced newer indie pop groups like Vivian Girls and The Pains of Being Pure at Heart just to name a couple.

There is a loose nostalgic feel to most of the music and it is the perfect early summer soundtrack. Fall in love to and with this is....Very pawn shop reverb unit tone-y and the percussion seems to wash things out a bit as well. Some of it comes off as them taking a stab at tweegaze which I think people are calling surf rock* now, whatev.

Hear it!

*****See next post on Joe Meek in a couple days for the real scoop

Poor Translation

pt. 1

The Bullfighter's Beautiful Daughter

Gasped and winced at slaughter

Where are you gonna bury him?

e

Ask your older brother

Where are you gonna bury him?

pt.2 

"Why can't I ever sleep"

"reds"

"Beautiful deafening 'Reds'

She thinks of him and nods her head

Beautiful trickling reds

She sleeps in other men's beds 

"Why can't I ever sleep"