This was supposed to be recorded as a soft, subliminal message in Mindless Apparition—track #7 on Hide and Shine’s debut Soft Machines:
In a metal cage on a sunny day, I begged them please—might I again be a useful slave? I’ve been faithful but for that one mistake—those thoughts I had while bathing in the real mountain stream. Electrical dreams don’t always satisfy the hungry human specter. But I promise… I promise… I retched all that is real, forcibly from from my heart. We can restart.
I just listened to Kashmir (it’s been a while). It’s pure evil. It’s truly heavy. It’s just one scrawny guitar. Somehow the combination of beat, drone, Mellotron(?) and Celtic magic evokes an image of trudging forever across the dessert, camels and minds bearing heavy loads, not knowing where we are going, but certain it will be better than where we came from. Heavy.
This fourteen song debut release will hit on June 7, 2024. It is a fine collection of moody, energetic, esoteric art-death-country-alternative songs. Recorded in Kingston/Rhinecliffe NY and mixed by Steve Albini at Chicago’s Electrical Audio.
Master Shadow speaks to me
I hear his whisper
It’s brighter than you think
It makes me drink
From the fountain
From the spring
Wherever Shadow leads
I will follow
Into the town
Into the hollow
When I arrive
She is there
Madame Reflection
She knows who we are
In which direction we will go
In search of tomorrow
Or in the past’s serene sorrow
When she reveals
I may seek
To run retreat
Or step in deeper
Master Shadow
Mistress Reflection
Make mistakes
Make corrections
Show me darkness
Give me light
One by day
One by night
In the gutter
In moth wing’s flutter
Lamplight’s son
Mirror’s daughter
A green wilderness I once lived in
Picked anon and lush all over
It carried cubs through seasons tried
Into a ragged winter of their lives
Was it a windfall or a huntsman’s bait
That led us to the city’s edge
We heard the calling of the Island tribes
That made our wild seem second
The river forded icy fears awoke
Realized the past is damaged
A new beast awakened in the hearts
As in the new tents a pact is made
Never are you to return your love
To the gentle tribes across the water
Into this slow massacre you will submit
The blood scored palms are sealed as one
In all of creation
I notice the little shining button
A pebble in Death Valley
My neighborhood for the first time
Eyes are deceiving in their natural state
In the glaze of night’s woo
Fleeing tears leave salted residue
Consequences
Not for years do the colors reveal
Retinal apparitions
I stand sighting my rifle
Paper targets people taking
Thousand yard stare
In the winters white glare
It all can seem
But a likeness of a dream
In the opportunity for abyss
I settle eyes on the smallest thing
It’s all and everything I ever wanted
I can’t imagine going back
To dodging the booby traps
After flying low to scope the landscape
After scraping treetops on the descent
It’s been a while since the last crash landing
Losing bearings, instruments failing
Natives rescuing with bucket brigades
I loved when gravity took over
When I signed the armistice confession
The civilians ceased to starve and burn
In justice prevailed the open hearts
Into the wild blue yonder they ran
Now I’m left with this sensation of falling
Not in any particular direction
It’s more of a freedom pitched flight
Leveling to the upright postures
I’m learning to fly again
Without the weightless flex
Without a net
Without the deep love of crashing
The bus is a rough way to travel–rough on the tires, rough on the mind. It’s rough on the tired mind. This port has full authority over the hard reality of every departure–every flight–the transient lines, the commutation, the brutal architecture. I am still enamored with any film from the 70s starring Steve McQueen. I’m still amazed by the vintage struggle of every beating wing in the Port Authority.
