reclusive ants, tiny houses, sheep whom find homes in empty beer cartons, wallabies, garden hoses shaped like the pope, fred the mouse collector, the entire country of france, a smidgen of wine, falling really fast with no hope of surviving(in dre3ams of course... i'm not some suicidal freak), bird acking, influent fluences, human noises, drum skin, chickens... faint tinkly noises, loud booming noises, the 2 former mixed together with a paper crinkling, reverb in general, vertigo, being high without digesting inhalation... scraping my hand on the face of a wave that appears to me like a gigantic semi-truck rolling over on its side and escaping certain doom by leaning down real low to fly out of the top and find grace in the few moments of flight... water bursting into tiny pieces catching the wind to hit my face... the fall back into mother womb, my board crashing over me... but i'm protected, fetal, beneath, trapped in total euphoric rapture...
I'm not a band. I'm a spontaneous sound chemist.... or an audio root canal engineer. Either way, I have things crawling around in my tubes that fester and decide to exit as thinking entities and make homes in my unconscious.
So...we made it to the Super Bowl...as you may or may not know...are you going to be back in SF??? Give Edwin a hug from me. Enjoy the jungles and beaches. Peace bro, Clay
i loooooooooove the back-up vocalists on the 'little monsters' track. they are super ultra mega talented. you are lucky to be working with such fabulously inventive & innovative professional musicians! bravo...
