How many times have you entered a room without light, tread slowly forward with objects all unfamiliar, only a draft to lead you do a window. Then when you have discovered the latch burst open the shutters (have any of those now) and seen the light of flickering beings above, that with an easier course would otherwise go unnoticed. At this time we seek through these obscured small passages these blessed flecks, a gathering a storehouse of artillery being accumulated as ignitions of meaning. Action forthright sustained by cultivations of secret truisms, everyone finding their place so all active parallels are aligned.
Alsarah & The Nubatons
Mira Calix & Grasscut
“A Shadow in Time”
The future-past time lapsing I TIME SLIP I an informing of present ballades to yield lone built lullabies. partitions and absent panes of buildings subsumed in light, sometimes, sometimes [then why all the time]. Clairvoyances’ absences, and to what “ends in light” are within other ways around. We are in divided times, graphs delineating, margins exceeding lines then folds. When buckled down, there’s still breathing space if we fight and beauty reigns… while neighbor may tell a tale of steel, stealth and thievery why holding the last of your fingers, oblige but run inside. Deceptions will be righted through melodious strains that have arrived and heretofore been projected forth and seen by our likes before.
“To Move On”
Some inverted constellations as the only maps now. How many words for light? We seek them. Here, those holding down a concerted rhythm, it runs underneath, pointedly central. To retreat to what is certainly a new unfamiliar carved underground. Strange blessings these incidences which render sonic ingredients for the good fight. Here, fine luminosity within shadow workers, a recapitulation arriving as we learn less with each iteration, Then, it’s another way around. These recordings presented a certain nectar to our uprisings. Ways to focus longings, spaces for queries and questionings, invisible places to prevail, cadences as bindings. All the other ways around that can only be seen low to the ground… It could end with helios blazing…
Alsarah And The Nubatones
“The Ocean Called”
Natalie Beridze w/ Sun Waltz
Music fare: Dear Anthropocene dweller, its official. In sound, perhaps the utterances indecipherable are more explicative. Returning to the rhythms of a beauteous secret sediment. We can’t anticipate what is to be audible then. Its presumptuous to think that nothing was heard before our presence and will be after. The inanimate(s) taking the helm as we tumble into oblivion. That said we feature here the etherea of a 3-day indoctrination of impossible heights, lucid melodic voice-cascading jewels, cadences of a future-post ensemble we-must-preserve that-which-spawned-modernity, illumined rays embarked upon of what is ministered free and untethered.
Miles Davis and Robert Glasper feat. Illa J
“They Can't Hold Me Down”
Music fare: These small improbables gaining momentum, forming rapids that bend reeds and pull silt for dispersion, … all runs its course, cyclical, but how to intervene with blades of sense and foresight. A lowering of a foot, piede, into the sediment as to interfere within the turbulent current. An Apokalpysis, a million halos scattering, Blackened Cities, ashen urbanity… Murcof asks, What Arms are these for you? When to resist, when to embrace, when to be scolded for too many 10 dollar words. Whack. Have faith, alter things if one can, shine your brass, brace for what's ahead.
Melanie De Blasio
“What Arms are These”
Imagined peripheral settings. At Lake Balaton there is a small hás, reeds splayed and covering out of sight. A large key opens to a scene of things untouched for a quarter of a Century. In this span we imagine the pervasive psychedelic sound that was not heard in this isolated tér. Az Égben Lebegők Csarnoka. Then, Liege, an artist collective, a languist revolutionary at the base of the street. Near is Bruxelles. With such slight light, a generation of majestic highly melodic driving paired strains. Cytogenetic Movement. Now a voice arriving, ushering in brave lush harmonics, a present-time-incadescent-sorcery. All Mine.
“Az Égben Lebegők Csarnoka”
Those having gifts inherent before the expression’s formal formation: the source then becomes apparent in those practiced intricacies. Tunes like rivulets, facets of strengths summoning, a parallel-form interior, frameworks of the marvelous that can groove, delicate spaces constantly carving, powerfully dubbed voices, russian interpreters, liberations by wrist (ever a resistance needed), a gesture of resistance, a slavic quartz crystal??, a wrist bejeweled, ochre and navy in a tidy planted soil cornice, a little stone hiding in a garden with the written word “grace” on its form, a cap from a beverage scampering around the floor of the 6 train, tapping heels.
“Can You Handle It”
Ivan Ilić plays Morton Feldman
“For Bunita Marcus: XXII”
Star gazers in a gilded shelter, new growth summoning its own to issue a jagged path, the sadness before beauty has happened, the master of a beat doctrine, the issuing of instructions as master; surreptitiously, lester with his breath and elegant hands, cadence, cadence, voices that beckon voices, delicate redundancies as a trinity grail, tracks for massage parlors, ditties for skirmishing, songs for those that are to be drunk on tones alone, harmonies of braided grass… or stems, lullaby of a carving knife ever so gentle, chords for those who kneel then stand – ecstatic hands extended.
“To The Country”
Quelque Gaelic, rising Afrique the source at a psychedelic stage, 7 Sisters the stars aligned as immutable constellation, Polynesianesque intrinsic shadow depths of beauty tales, some hop-scotch classics, instruments with requiring hand extensions, streams of parallelism tones to be subsumed by, themes of water and splashing (puddles), new cacophonies pushing limits with intrinsic and elevated threaded melodies – our contemporary forms are indeed a new revolution, abolish present-tense detractors, and dash of a tiny bit of glam.
Ify Jerry Krusade
“Nwantinti Die Die”
“Cybernetics Is An Old Science”
Stretch. Trax. Metal driven cadences. Harlem acapella do-wop. Edifices, arches, gazes to other planes, convictions, pushing limits, spaces for whisperers, agility, d’or tonalities, haze, 5-part harmonies and 5 octaves, documentation of the smiles on pastel covers of prolific innovators, of choral voices, belying but exalting the melancholia behind such generosity. Listening to the voices and hushed spaces of a voice separated from its live accompaniment. Breath, beauty, defiance, ebullience.
“If I Could Only Be Sure”
Traversing borders, a Romantic or a freedom fighter, casting a weapon of justness with sown bells of slight radiants. One stands silhouetted facing the azure sky, the morphing light of the hour drawing one into the horizon. Twilight, being that which gives this sense of possibility on the terrestrial plane or the middle zone of earth and sky where one might assume bearing over one's destiny. Tension in a certain center-space. Golden-mean-wax-ponderances (as I munch away on Rose's bread).These tracks are to step us over the demarcation line and tow us into transcendence.
“A Gift of Tears”
“The Race (Live)”
Various deliberations of ‘extended’. a punk turned torch bearer, a composer of intricacies and vocal feats, jazz maven yielding funk sublimity (and hip-hop’s sample trove). A sort of magic interstitial track that goes on repeat because we can’t ascertain all of it simply – ever. After extremes of the explorative, the music fare is one of a maker’s sitting back and relishing in the looseness threading through the constructs, of letting one into their secrets, the fragile turned expansive, warm driving intimacies.
“I’ve Got A Feeling”
All came up blue, happenstance immersed in a sonic loophole of a luscious low end. Marais used the acoustics of the court for the pronouncement of this. Caldara, the singer’s lower register in large halls. Crickets bellowing with legs, others hitting pipes against hollow wells. Summer has ended and Autumn is fighting its way back. In common defiance, there are the cold/warm intricacy-psych-belting tunes interleaved. Tracks of elongation, daze, acceleration and the signature cracklings, hums, versions of static.
“Subzero (Function-Regis a.k.a. Sandwell District Remix)”
The Holydrug Couple
“Follow Your Way”
Norma Jean Bell
“One of Those Nites”
We lie on hills licking the loins of elliptical cadences, alone in that as-above-so-below, dappled light terror sublime, the merging with a solitary divinity… then descend and pilfer a loosie at the corner in a brown paper bag and a some other drink in a brown paper bag. This week, ladies on 12 strings, minimal electronic heros all acoustic, things that are “washes of”, voices, guitars, many pedals, tracks for talc powder-elated spins, extreme noise from mountaintops, murmurs…
Moritz Von Oswald Trio
“Sounding Line 3”
Aqua Nebula Oscillator
“The Beauty and the Beast”
They, sonic-poignant all-tapped-in xhiliration. Rumination-pensives, magiciansfacethegunsofheartache
inordertotoiltobringaboutbeautyandmeaning. Lots of gear evident here, one to love a good laboratory. Pull transitive, sublimation (straight up Boëhme). The feeling cycles of beauteous deliverance, tracks that should be played immediately in precious discos to be born, new forests or maybe divine-rod found illuminated urban park paths… titles with the following: hope, forever, after, before, tomorrow, ever, again.
Tim Love Lee
“Sow Mo Hope”
Current loops and sound stretch meanderings: Flip inversion lyricists, the intimidators that admit to succumbing to slumber and reveries, true innovators of the electronic medium hail Delia, a number of trackks from Staxx, a series of ditties that have the chorus “take me!”, some precise cold beats from Russians based there and here, Canadian wolves, Peruvian disco, Akaskan techno (I am looking…), various power generator recordings (a pastime), radio hiss everywhere – I'm low on mystery spy broadcast tower transmissions though… hook me up
Delia Derbyshire & Ear
Zak Khutoretsky | DVS1
“Lost in My Dreams”
Swooping rare grooves of souvenirs, virtuosic redemption on player pianos, hopscotch incantations, melodies of considered superstitions, defying by dancing, cities of souls with monorails, secret meandering that bind us all, those things of a certain summer circumference, prevailing with melancholic light beams, preying on new beauteous goodies, secret measured intonations, a surrendering to the seasonal warmth and lust-re. Some featured artists in the program…
“Not Afraid to Die”
“3 Visions: No. 2. Summerland”
Pastoral soarings of the lovelorn that champion all, muses that fell behind history which are the real geniuses, a score of pious acoustic interludes from various continents, affirmations for insight and acquisition, swing anthems of the defiant for jubilance, early and new odes of cold on patched synths, outer space asphalt break beats, many groove titles with the term “boogie”, some intense rock ‘n’ roll that snuck in with the “boogie”, the perpetuity of the astral cosmos in the waxed lyrical. Some featured artists in the program…
Sister Rosetta Tharpe
“Last Mile of the Way”