Daniel O'Sullivan
Orlando Harrison
Sara Hubrich
Leo Smee
David Smith
Influences
Goblin, Bach, Gurdjieff, Herschell Gordon Lewis, Fritz Lang, Nietzsche, Marchesa Casati, Joseph Beuys, Stanislaw Lem, Thomas Mann, Joel Peter Witkin, Graveyards, Fairgrounds, Circus, Megaliths, Asatru, Chainmail,
Sounds Like
On the Perils recordings, with their harmoniums, autoharps, violins, violas, pianos, organs and glockenspiels added to a top of the line rhythm section, the band very deliberately adheres to a Faustian melodrama of the angelic. Their dark, harrowing visions of some dense hellish musico-psychological dystopia shapeshift frequently before your eyes (ears), and become a very capable and Elizabethan sounding prog-baroque meteorite at the drop of a hat. Armed with these anachronistic tendencies the Miasmic vision never deviates, deriving its vocabulary exclusively from alchemically lined volumes in their arcane library of musical ideas. It's instrumental music that would perhaps find a happy home in a Jan Svankmajer or Fritz Lang film, and will find a prominent place on the shelf of any connoisseur of occultist highbrow, right next to his/her John Dee volumes. (sigh) Yes, dear to our hearts.
Trey Spruance, Mimicry Recordings
Miasma & the Carousel of Headless Horses are a British instrumental quintet that plays dark, antiquated sounding music encompassing elements of Eastern European folk, avant-rock, broken-down calliope music, and neo-classical film composition. More a trip to an anachronistic world of neo-baroque psychedelia than a simple study in diced-up ecclecticism, the music on Perils sways between lush chamber orientated melancholia, apocalyptic bombast, and epic ghost train high-drama. Featuring members of Guapo, Aethenor, Chrome Hoof and Cathedral.
Fragmentary text, of provenance unknown, found tucked into the diary of Otto Amon, Prague resident and noted chronicler of 19th century Bohemian life. The handwriting is not his own.
"Christmas 1781. Fonthill Abbey, Wiltshire.
La creme of England's artistic and theatrical set are gathered in these magnificent surroundings, summoned to celebrate a Saturnalia in honour of our notorious and most decadent friend, William Beckford.
... we revel in rare foods and oriental perfumes. Beckford's menagerie of exotic creatures and performers entertains us: acrobatic dwarves tumble through the air, monkeys dance, dervishes spin. The Frenchman Philip James de Loutherbourg, a mesmerist and artist, summons spirits real and imaginary with the aid of his fabulous son et lumiere device, the Eidophusikon. It is truly a marvellous scene.
Day two
... eyes hidden below the brims of wide black hats, they play wild, incessant music. Beckford says they are Gypsies. We laugh, love and carouse as their sound fills the room.
... the party still rages as if it has only just begun, driven on by that maddening music... they are not gypsies...they speak to nobody, just play... they are beings possessed.
Day three
An air of hysteria has descended... we have grown ever more debauched in our quest for unknown pleasures, I have seen things I should never wish to see again: obscene couplings, unholy rites I could never dare to describe. I have taken to a quiet room to seek sanity, but there is no escaping that sound.
... evening now. Beckford summons us to the Great Hall, he has an announcement to make. He speaks of conjurations and the arrival of a most honoured guest. I must...
... without warning the doors swung open to reveal the most sinisterly beautiful figure I have ever seen. Neither man nor woman, human nor animal, it stands silently amongst us, smiling eyes reflecting all the colours of its peacock-feather gown... with an elegant sweep of a too long arm it bows towards the musicians, they return the gesture and begin to play a music unlike any I have heard before, beautiful, awful... I dance. Swept by fire we leap and whirl, laugh and scream, the unknown guest moving gracefully amongst us, occasionally gesturing his approval to the band who simply nod and play on.
... I don't know for how many hours the scene continued. When I awoke it was dawn. We, all of us, lay sprawled on the floor where we had been dancing... aeons had passed. My body had been chewed upon by some great foul beast. A sickly odour lingered in the air and the last tendrils of a thick green mist seemed to slip out beneath the hall's great doors...
None can remember how the night ended. what has happened here? Even Beckford appears subdued, uneasy... The mysterious visitor is long gone, as is the band: "No doubt they have been summoned to other places and other times", says Beckford, "they will have other princes to entertain."
Fragment ends
Miasma & the Carousel of Headless Horses's Friend Space (Top 20)
Miasma & the Carousel of Headless Horses has 4273 friends.
Big Bad Love July 10th Doors: 7pm-11pm £6.50 93 Feet East
This is our first 93 Feat East gig and we’re happy to be gracing this illustrious stage so look out for special door price offers a few days before the gig… Or you can buy in advance here: http://www. wegottickets. com/event/32336
Join us for another Big City Redneck Presents! Another wonderful eruption, nay, ejaculation of good music at the Buffalo Bar this month!
What can I say? We won’t disappoint.
Buffalo Bar June 19th £6 on the door… 8.30pm till they kick us out…
Mama Shamone – THESE GUYS AREN’T PLAYING LIVE (except one acoustic) EXCEPT AT GLASTO FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR! http://www. myspace. com/mamashamone “Put Mama Shamone on at any venue and they are likely to take the roof off, this was one of the best live shows I’ve seen in years - certainly one of the best in London. In my opinion these guys are destined for greatness, it felt like I was witnessing history being shaped-something was just so right about what they were doing up there.” Vibe Bar
We Yes You No www. myspace. com/weyesyouno “We Yes You No sing about the end of the world, the end of everything. But in an apocalypse that would sound like this I would buy god’s last EP” – Big City Redneck
Language http://www. myspace. com/languageuk “"The verbosity of funk, the poetic twang of intelligent pop. The bridge between Franz Ferdinand and Smashing Pumpkins perhaps" – Bugbear
The time is nearly apont us for the spangles DJ team to take you on a kaleidoscopic journey into the musical stratospehere of all things groovy - wooah there!
see you on the dancefloor
CSCG
x
or, if you fancy something a little heavier............
Abigail Hopkins' new album, 'The Memoirs Of An Outlaw' is available to pre-order from: www. basilicamusic. bigcartel. com The first 100 copies are signed and numbered!
.. perplexing ways.. the maze of these days.. and maybe confused as well.. self induced isolation.. is there any other kind.. darkness hallways.. bullet hole sunlight beams.. crimes against humanity.. beastly days falling down through time.. ancient silence fades into a mellow hummmmm- and oar have we seen these majestic shores.? yes, we have somehow been to this unknown place.. at least once before.. birdlike people.. thunderbirds of forbidden names.. island jungles so thick and living.. we meet you with excitement at first.. prodded forward by curiosity.. we see your true intent.. heart of the jungle.. oh beastly heart of the wild.. don't lure us any closer.. oh the horror of this jungle child.. jungle beat. pulse.. move with intent.. focus your will on the most savage faces of human conditions.. jungle grip me now.. hold me down.. that we may not burst into light.. i must leave my kiowa flute here on earth.. for it is my soul that has songs to sing.. and it is my body that will remind them of where i once lived.. and it is my heart.. red muscle of the deep beautiful feeling.. this will dry, and wither into dust.. and no more be a ladder unto lust......................................................
.. can I have a room in my mansion with a lava pit. I would say " hey, would you guys like to see my lava pit?" .. and you would think of me beautiful.. and uniquely eccentric. and outside I will have a lava heated tropical lagoon.. people will say "hey, jake is having another one of his sexy parties." and all over the world beautiful models, and young people of world power.. we will come and converse on world affairs.. and drink and do drugs.. and radiate with young sexual energy.. so good to touch.. so good to taste.. well then confess i do.. i am one of the young lustful leaders..for the knowledge of the world and the way it turns.. has molded us into vampires of intense dangerous pleasures.. oh, wow.. did you ever imagine this is what it would be like.. or is it even better then that. dancing through the night to old, old beats. with a Venezuelan princess.. see watch me my dear.. watch the way my hips swing.. and wave your arms through the air as if you were flying through the night.. and touch all of the stars.. don't miss any of them.. take my hand.. follow me.. lets run.. her laugh is almost as beautiful as these eyes.. she giggles like a little girl i knew a long time ago.. we stop and share a brief moment of warm silence.. and she kisses me softly, and takes my heart with a smile.. " oh.." i say.. "would you like to see my lava pit?" and then i take her heart away.. because i am beautiful.. and uniquely eccentric.......................
American Emperical Designs.. strange irish points of view.. we do not all have to adhere to designs from afar.... all the things to put to my hands.. all the things to bring to my mouth.. i bet all the small bedroom apartments .. those of the young artists.. had a similar spirit within them.. probably a small window.. and if they were mystics.. there might have been a tree.. music.. bookcase.. "what a well gathered assortment of books you have." .. i remember one of them had a closet he would write in.. a step up above the level of the floor. It had a bright light in it. He could sit propped up against the wall.. with a typewriter on his lap..and dream of the others.. let his mind dance free.. with all of the ages behind him.. to reach out and take new meaning.. new meaning in new times.. and try and pin down .. hold still truth.. why must you make it a chase.? But maybe a monkey would suit this photograph nicely.. the moment they recognize is the moment of your death.. your slow decay into brilliance.. leaves you out of sorts in the mind of men.. for opinions do not matter.. but when gathered in a mob.. they can be hard to overcome.. like Coltrane slashing his music stick in his attic.. chaos.. even you have some kind of fearful symmetry.. what do the kids want to hear.? I don't know .. and dare i say that i do not care.. let them cross over into the mind of computer circuitry.. i will stay here.. with children of noble mountain heritage.. yet again the call of an identity.. for my face seems more familiar now.. i see someone who has gone beyond me.. i feel the presence of old ancient philosopher kings...........
..
..
