I am better known for playing in rock groups like Human Cock, Teith, Pelican, The Look Ahead, and a gazillion others, but I got my start as a musician doing home recordings and making up songs on 4-track tape recorders and so forth. After several years of work, I assembled an anthology of the most successful tape experiments I had done, settling on the name "Histoire" to categorize these works.
The name "histoire" is derived from the French word for story, but it is often applied by film critics to refer to films that lack voice over narration; that substitute their internal reality for the viewers' for the course of their duration. I found the term fitting, as the goal of recorded works geared toward deep listening is much the same - an alternate reality, a story that unfolds in the interpretation of the listener.
In 2005 I released two new albums: "Architecture" on my own Migration Media, and "The Future of White America" on Atomic Mouse Recordings. A reissue of "Architecture" is to be issued on Viva Hate Records in 2007 among other releases.
I was just taking a shower and that made me think of something.
I haven't seen your white towels in the bathroom lately and then I had this brief memory that I couldn't tell if it was one of my super-mundane dreams that I have every night or if it was real. I remember looking at your white towels a while ago and seeing this black stuff on it and thinking, "man, that's weird, I didn't put that there but it seems like I should have."
Not should in the sense of it being the right thing to do, but should in the sense that it was during that week when I was working on both a moped and a bicycle, both very greasy, dirty things.
So I was thinking in the shower today, whoa, I wonder if Trevor thought that maybe I got grease on your white towels, and maybe they are not back yet because you couldn't get the grease out. And I still wonder if it was a dream or not.
Last night I dreamt about Joe (A dog paloma) but he was just like standing on this porch not saying anything and no one else was around.
So you could understand how I might think that other, relatively insignificant, things might have been dreams.
If it wasn't a dream, I promise I didn't get grease on your towels.
You silly noose, you, don't go getting all wound up, it's not good for circulation. You never left my TOP SIXTEEN, you were just overshadowed by the awe inspiring picture next to you.
Looks like Kitty licks the frost and then pukes it onto my floor. That makes sense. Like a snail or something. Yaas.
lookin at my man histoire, he stay crippin good / get up out the van with a louie, make'em kiss the wood / slash a cat's face on tuesday, up in clubber land / that ain't just a clever song, it's a fuckin plan / we stay dirty down to the last inch of blunt / wardrobes in the trunk, when we bout to switch it up / stay grimy, like a gearbox stickered up / epd bitch, like yall pimps is flippin what?
i'll cut that ass straight down to the fat meat
tuesday's the lucky when i catch you on that backstreet
i'll cut that face from the eyebrows to the double chin
tuesday at noon fool, i'll see you at the junglegym
Dan and I got stoned
On my porch the day your ashes hit the river
I considered irony
I couldn't quite think of any word
"B" thinks I should write you a letter
That it might be better than just lashing out
So I gave it to a typewriter
And it was also ridiculous written down
A sweater soft, a hug goodbye
When you called us three days later
We all knew you were high
We all knew you were tired
But we thought you'd make it through the night
I remember so much life in you
How I never had the guts to make a move
I remember walking out on you
migration media needs to sweeten my deal if i'm going to be signing an exclusive. got that? teeth AND a fat ass charm. put some diamonds in my dogshit and we conversate.
