2muchachos - polaroid dreams

To watch the fading fade and fade nearly unmoving, to fall asleep before the rescue of full blackness. Vesnywki EP by the Russian romantics 2muchachos is available here for listening. 

I’m a thread of the green garden, where the reunions happen, and strangers claim they can’t dance. Through a train-shaped window of an attic in a house by, a boy who slept in the canopy atop like a camper boy watched me, the thread, darken, like a supernatural bat shaped shadow. For almost dark enough to see the night black, but not quite. The fading and fading without the rescue of full blackness. The eyes of the camper boy closed, and the blades of grass and thread of me waves goodbye as he didn’t see. 

J Biscuits - Adventure til you Drop

Rusting jazz, crumbling jazz, aged jazz decades and seconds and weeks aged. The jazz is endless, and too tired to be ended. “Adventure til you Drop” by Brighton UK’s J Biscuits is one of many roaming the streets here. 

Jazz crumbled down the streets with woozy vertigo and hurried amnesia. Like a tired automobile with collision longings. The jazz drove like metal pieced with adhesive, for decades and seconds and long weeks, scribbling its rusted crumblings over city roads and jungle streets. The jazz was endless and endlessly longed not to be. 

Brendan Sullivan - Everyone pt. l

Everyone is always putting on a face. A dumb, machine face, a laugh box face, laughing out of loneliness. Everyone pt. l. Everyone pt. l can be found on Brendan Sullivan’s split with Human Resources, released via Friends Records. 

I stared at the flat poker faces of the mixed up people. The laughing blue and all white people. Nobody wanted to be at the screaming dollars house party, but everyone had to be. The social obligation of a thousand years in making, when God or whoever made solitude unhappy. And it wasn’t just here. Down the white broad and desolate avenues - everywhere poker faces laughed, and laughed, and laughed. And it was then that I knew where the constant noise came from. The laughing blue and all white people, who sounded like the lonely parks nobody went to anymore. Did everyone else see in beige? Beige beige and everything beige, people beige and breezeways beige, not bored beige, but beige lonely. Nobody wanted to be at the house party, but nobody wasn’t there either. 

Warui Kettei - Pressure

Seven jars of seven waters, liar water, guilty water, amused water, velvet water, crouching water, blank water, and a lucky one. They were kept in jars, but in the sky. None could say whether they were contained or not, but the one water I tipped into the lake. “Pressure” is a the sole song on the soundcloud of Japanese artist Warui Kettei, shared to me by Tyler.

I was out walking somewhere, trying to fly, when I reached some peak, and some she said “I used to live near”. She left seven jars filled with seven waters. I leaned over to whisper in the strangers ear “it was an accident”, but she wasn’t there. But they were part of me, then. They were my landscape, I guess. The waters were clear, another bloody, another a queer yellow wallpaper sheer, one was rusted, another was a liar, the sixth was a guilty algae, and the seventh I tipped into the lake before I could see. 

Blithe Field - In The Moonlight

In the moonlight I’m nearly as blind as it all. “In The Moonlight” is the second of ten gems on Blithe Field’s upcoming Warm Blood. The ten finger laced songs are available for pre-order via Messy Life Records.

I hesitated, I felt my eyes, I blushed, I stood over the blind inanimate things, why am I lucky? These things, they make up everything, impressions, and sallow yellow comfort or hollow white discomfort, they’re dustpans just like I am, only blinder. I didn’t say a thing, I didn’t have to, it was completely dark, that’s why I didn’t have to. But in the moonlight - well, what happens then? Well, then I’m nearly as blind as everything. I dashed the water from my eyes.

Future Dollars - Theme From Future Dollars (ft. A Sol Mechanic)

And again and again I have to wake up to reconnect the tired wires in a dust furnished brain. But on April 10th will come the sympathy we all need. On April 10th the 6bit collective will release Future Dollars 10,000 Digeridoos EP.

Slowly I swam from the bottom of the bruise hued sleep. Excuse me Excuse me Excuse me dust and dust and brains made out of dust and space. Hitched up on too bent elbows, eyes peeled in the virgin way eyes do when memorizing the house light spacing during a virgin kiss, the room was space color black, too much like my bruise hued sleep and much like everything. Like some angel had confessed it all and shaking with shame, had fallen flat with dull and shattered vision, and beat by time. That’s how it all seemed. Like the mechanic in me was overworked from connecting not working wires. 

Senior Exec - Overrode

The desert was empty and the emptiness couldn’t be reversed. The heat was from the desert and her cry was because of the desert, empty and empty and emptier with no space to override. “Overrode” is one of three tracks currently inhabiting the soundcloud of Brooklyn’s Senior Exec.

Until she started to cry. Because the desert was empty, and the moon was even emptier, her cries were cavernous, and the tomb-like heat was echoing. And she was brainwashed by ghostly ghostly emptiness mimicked by ghost-looking birds and ghostly people. The grey sky bellied over but the heat didn’t leave. Empty as ever. 

(Source: dontdiewonderingmusic)

Honeydrip - Dull Tydes Bring Us All Down Sometimes

“Dull Tydes Bring Us All Down Sometimes” is one of seven tracks on Generation Y Not. Generation Y Not is a compilation of seven young LA based musicians (Honeydrip included) that is being released tomorrow digitally via Absent Fever and on 1,000 free CD’s via JAXART Records.

Seduced by the dirty-minded, spoiled, cynical animals. The dirty-doers that seduced us past any slept-with sort of seduction. It was a seduction like a childhood sweetheart - though we were trying too hard to be all but childlike. The friendless friends and the backs of the cars that bragged ironic maturity. We were a miserable crew with black and blue backs of eyes and knuckle alps, with a sex induced drowsiness, and half-dark politics. Mouths pale and poisoned, talkative enough to soon be the seducers ourselves. Surely we were to blame, but wouldn’t want it any other way. 

A Grave With No Name - Your Ghost, By The Lake

And I’d wait by the lake. “Your Ghost, By The Lake” is waiting, like a grave with no name. More from A Grave With No Name here. 

Hollow-eyed, through hollow and drained paradise alley, where for 70 hours lonesome small-town rain itched dry city skin. Through hollow-eyed eyes I watched small-town rain river raft me back. Where I could stay naked in the lake, with the rickety rows of dock planks the waiting room. And I’d wait by the lake. 

Excavate - A Kind of Place

Another from London/Leeds based Excavate, “A Kind of Place”. 

All golden words are spent. His silence was to sit drooping. As he sits with the attendants and the dust piled on them. A different dust than had been peppered above him before. This dust was some dug dust dug from same place his and every other his silence went drooping. The dust and the golden words crackled like popcorn.  

JCCG - Certamente

Where you feel strange and there hasn’t been a telephone ring or door bell ring or church bell ring to snap you out of your very skull for days. I know what you mean, says JCCG. JCCG is the work of the Portugal based somebody who can relate with everything. 

Where you feel strange and the instincts of your skull won’t admit the worms and goblins of the senses. And down the rocks of time your skull mind skips across time river stones. And your senseless skull takes shadows for senses. And replaces gaps of time memory with made up things. Where you feel like theres an error in the plot line. Like rotten bugs and goblins took to you and your mindless as ever. 

Paco  Sala - Gifts of the Bloom

Some foreign daisy sea that existed nowhere but constantly. With trick and delay, slight envy and winking, a shift of planes like shift of grey streets, the bloom, waving bouquets, and over capacity the daisy’s were born out of a pregnant hill somewhere in nowhere, that existed constantly. She called it the “Gifts of the Bloom”, and timed it for further than spring, the daisy affair ended only when she wished. As she aged she wished more often. Until the “Gifts of the Bloom” was simply some childhood everyday holiday. And still, it existed nowhere, but not constantly. Paco Sala’s “Gifts of the Bloom“ is the first we hear from the upcoming LP Ro-me-ro via Digitalis.