[ The synaptic firings of the brain. The streamline flow and harnessing of the subconscious. Memory failure. A backwards step. The Freudian slip. Saying a word so much it sounds vague and unreal. A calloused patience. A thick aroma. The obsolete meaning. The archaic use. Secrets of space. Time lapse. Sleep deprivation. A wish for time travel. Science fiction. The glowing organs of deep down fish. Flat, white, expansive terrain. Sometimes: wind patterns in stretches of sand. ]
I want to expand your temporal lobe; have it swell with a brilliant sonic fervor. I'll exist only in your ears. Like a warm, milky, silk worm - I'll bed there - Let me shake your from your thoughts.
(For some reason the link doesn't work? Try this?): https://indmill.com/albums/34667
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[ Old, Peeling, cracking paint, like curled pages from some exhausted book. Bulging leaves of crisp chemicals overturned; stricken with the change of age. How about a fluorescent tubes struggle to light up some meek hovel; Oh, its tired yellow rays. Or, Fleeting follicles in the creases of ceaseless sun through venetian blinds.Theres the boiler room cacophony (thats just so soothing) with its network of archaic pipes leading to what seems like nowhere. How its valves shiver and shake with daily pressure. Upon the facade of a dead factory its dull multi-shaded windows glow, they're still standing, full of holes; they take up shelter with wooden boards. Shh, the radiator just rattled awake, and with its steady groan fills the air with comfortable heat and a tired smell. Over there, city lamps filter through foggy windows and dew. From another room, the quick hues of blue from a television set paint walls. Down an unkempt road an old motorcycle sputters away with a brown paper package twined to its seat; its bows bouncing with each bump and its skin dotted darker by drips of rain. In ill lighting crude scrawls on the interior of a match book suppose letters and numbers; complacent, never in memory. Alone, the sound aroused when placing your entire head under the surface of still water in a silent bathroom; that thick cut of your heartbeat. The pressure in your temples, around your veins - the sound of your flow - the conscious catalyst reminds you that, yes, you are here, and you are alive. Perhaps not real - but alive. ]
thank you so much for the links, it did fit the mood of the video though didn't it? Well, I need to talk to you about this other thing but I can't right now, too busy. Later I will though.
well monday we leave so its pretty much between today and sunday. im cool with either one
sunday we play at the silver dollar and its only $3. itd be totally cool if you could make it to that they have some really killer grande nachos. there really effing good
otherwise today i got most of the day. pretty much a chill day and see friends. i was thinking of possibly going down to dubuque fest. the jazz bands play from like 2-4.
I'd love to shoot some tunes back and forth, sounds great. And yeah, for me at least "The Masquerade" was awesome, very Squarepusher yet still with your original feel to it. Once you hit it big and start doing shows all over, let me know when you get to California!
but yeah i got a pretty full weekend here between recording this band, a wedding, and LA practice too.
sometime next week id like to take you on a date maybe the day of mindframe show you more what i be up to final product of SA and such then il be gone for a month but as soon as i get back we will roll like clint eastwood shoot outs in the street
It's actually kind of funny. I was looking through my music library and saw "The Masquerade" by Aloysius Rexford, and had no idea who it was or how it even got there. Needless to say, I listened to it and was hooked.
I'm just surprised that you aren't even more well known than you are now. You really have what you do down, and it keeps it's own uniqueness. Thanks for the kind words, it's very much appreciated. I look forward to hearing more Lapse, and am glad to have stumbled across you somehow haha.
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