In some distant future? No, you say. Now, there’s a logic in being skeptical about seers, but there have been some murmurings that perhaps you’re devoid as well. Easy stuff is fun, it’s the obvious stuff that should make your hair stand on end. Fun stuff is fun, they say. So, drop it and have a little conjuring session. If there’s desert access, take advantage of it, you’ll be glad you did. For the less fortunate of us, find a field, a rooftop, a city street corner. Let’s say that you’re worried that you’ve been dubbed a thing, marked. Who isn’t? Who hasn’t? Now look up at the sky; please don’t be concerned with the time of day or night. At some point, they’ll be born into it. In how distant a future? A requiem for a failed space program vibrates the air. Electronic fireworks sizzle in the distance. Somewhere, a beacon has been received. Will they shed it, their mark? Remember, there’s comfort in not suffering. And the profanity of genre, it’s like a curse! Worse still, each remaining one a lonely scaffold supporting the crumbling edifice, their backs to the proverbial wall and thus facing the wrong way. Will there be more? Think of the awful words they’ll designate to them, spat out. The edifice presupposes something on the other side of it. Something to come; this is what’s to come music. Can you hear the signals embedded within? How about the patterns? Are you counting, are you good with numbers? Here being the moment when a nay-sayer could interject some paradox about the difference between remembering and repetition. Or a haiku about the void. But if you look over there you can see those wavering shadows. There is light around that corner, fire born maybe. See how it glows, then see the projected flickering darkness? This is music for a deprogramming. In some distant future? you ask. Well, not yet.
Recorded Winter 21/22
releases May 26, 2023