Luke Morris - Computre Magic, Clicks and Beeps, Strange Colors, the Texture of Wool, Keyboard, Bizarre Rituals.
Influences
Six degrees of separation refers to the idea that, if a person is one "step" away from each person he or she knows and two "steps" away from each person who is known by one of the people he or she knows, then everyone is no more than six "steps" away from each person on Earth.
Sounds Like
It is the idea, the rumor, of a person or thing without the tangible reality and all of its consequences.
Who?
Born from the bitter union of a Confederate sympathizer and a steel welder from rural northern Virginia, Luke Morris spent his formative years huddled next to a furnace in the belly of an Icelandic fishing trawler, where the roar of the engines buffeted his overwhelmed auditory nerves and the darkness of the boiler room disallowed him the use of his eyes.
When the storms of winter caused the vessel to run aground the harsh topography of the Louisiana coastline in the middle of the night, Luke found that the throbbing hum of the ship's stalwart motors had been replaced by a caucophony of noises he had never before heard and as his ears acclimated to the foreign land, he separated and processed the sounds in his mind, hearing their forms with lucidity. Every sound's ridges and contours were vivid and new when compared to the steady engines, though his eyes could not bear the rising sun.
Retreating to the deepest recesses of the forest, Luke found a home far away from the intrusion of light, where only the common owl stirred alive in the darkest moments of the night.
Olde
skozey fetisch performance newly posted @ YouTube. It was the first
ever Noise Pancakes at Pubis Noir. There were three audience members in
attendance.
et bientôt … le 4 mars : Midori Hirano + Roméo & Sarah + GoGooo @ grrrnd zero le 11 mars : Royalchord+ marie marie cells + Lauter @ grrrnd zero le 28 mars : the nightcrawler (RED solo) @ sonic
From the prolegomenon to Part Four of The Mad Man, by Samuel Delaney
"Now I know when the final morning will be--when the light will no longer frighten away the Night and love--when sleeping will be forever just one unsuspendable dream. I feel heavenly tiredness in myself. Far and tiring to me this pilgrimage to the holy grave has been, and the cross oppresses. The crystal wave, unnoticable by common sense, wells up in the mound's dark womb, at the foot where the worldly tide edds, whoever's tasted it, whoever's stood up on the world's watershed, and looked over into a new land, into Night's dwelling--truely such a one won't come back to the world's doings, to the land where Light is housed in eternal unrest. " --[English translation] from Novalis, Hymnen an die Nacht, IV
