broadcast and the focus group investigate witch cults of the radio age (2009)

“The entire album is an exorcism of an dead universe. Nothing can stay together here. It’s hauntology as a pasture of incidental tones and half-ripped photographs. The video footage is unable to focus. The lens’s view is eternally obstructed. The wild blurs of compounded biographies come off like a fever dream of a memory play.”  – Timothy Gabriele (12 November 2009). Broadcast and the Focus Group: Investigate Witch Cults of the Radio Age – PopMatters.

chelsea wolfe – halfsleeper (2010)

All the parts of me that lived inside
Are drowning in the sea of waking life
They don’t know their colors don’t belong on the outside
They don’t know their colors don’t belong

Until they’re spread across the open road
‘Til they’re spread across the asphalt on the open road
‘Til they’re streaming in the wind like cassette tape or jellyfish
Long dark veins and records playing memories

All the things we yelled don’t mean a thing
When we’re spinning out on dark and metal wind
When we’re flying like we’re Mary’s angels through shattered glass
When we find the tall black shadow waiting there with outstretched hands

He has given me a dress of red and you a skin of gray
We’ll be twisting here for hours ’til the light will give us day

We’re spread across the open road
And we’re spread across the asphalt on the open road
And we’re streaming in the wind like cassette tape or jellyfish
Long dark veins and records playing memories

a a milne – spring morning (1924)

I miss you Grandpa Bean. Gone 6 years now.

Where am I going? I don’t quite know.
Down to the stream where the king-cups grow-
Up on the hill where the pine-trees blow-
Anywhere, anywhere. I don’t know.

Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.
Where am I going? The shadows pass,
Little ones, baby ones, over the grass.

If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
You’d sail on water as blue as air,
And you’d see me here in the fields and say:
“Doesn’t the sky look green today?”

Where am I going? The high rooks call:
“It’s awful fun to be born at all.”
Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:
“We do have beautiful things to do.”

If you were a bird, and lived on high,
You’d lean on the wind when the wind came by,
You’d say to the wind when it took you away:
“That’s where I wanted to go today!”

Where am I going? I don’t quite know.
What does it matter where people go?
Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow-
Anywhere, anywhere. I don’t know.

__
From “When We Were Very Young,” A.A. Milne, 1924.

With thanks to Gareth Jones for sending this to me yesterday (how did you know?)…