1. |
Magnetic Fields
05:31
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At times it seems other than it is, but mostly the picture doesn’t change. Yosemite Sam on the
shortwave band is counting you down to your dreams. Falling into shade from the white heat
of day, and open up the switches one by one. These magnetic fields of green are lighted from
within but we’ll go dark, go dark through these magnetic fields of green. At times it seems
other than it is, but mostly the picture doesn’t change. Migratory birds, and the treeline stirs:
the Cairene station’s on the dial. A flash of kingfisher blue, in this wireless solitude, and go
to where the silence is, and speak.
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2. |
Smoke
07:16
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After you're gone you hang in the air like smoke. After you're gone, you're here in my hair,
my clothes. Now everybody knows I've been burned. Follow the town down, through sainted
signs and alleyways. Follow the town down, these slippy stones where the light plays. Now
everybody knows I've been out in the rain. Voice in the earbuds sing in my head like
hummingbirds: of discounted white goods, Academy Awards and palisades. Of
dibenzoxazepine, burning cars and barricades. Now everybody's here, with me, in my mind.
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3. |
Flood of Stars
04:48
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The day is born behind the mountain, and the evening dies into the sea. The day is born
behind the mountain, and the flood of stars drowns the night. What breaks up my mind - step
through the waterfall - it breaks up my mind. There’s a dialtone of talk, I choose to ignore,
like absence is a cause. With sunken eyes and shaking bones, I bide my time. There’s a crush
on the forest floor: these physical laws! The animal waits on the moss inside the cave, she's
talking me down, like some tripsitter hound. Hands slip against these jeans. My compass
spins. Like the mother lays the child down to sleep, then the other way around: step through
the waterfall. Leave it all behind.
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4. |
Hindu Kush
06:15
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White lights are swinging on the wires, the universe barely makes a sound. I can play that
tune in 3/4 time. I can put out flags when the weather’s fine. With my chemical friends,
Excelon and Aricept, I’ll punch a hole in this covered cage. There’s a vein in my hand where
the light gets in. Now I’m shining like some new-fangled star. Oh but I forget myself. I look
over this kingdom, the size of a skull, and all at once the tumblers fall. There are things I can
move with my mind: I just stand here and watch them collide. In this dream, I walk the Hindu
Kush. And the moon climbs out of trees
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5. |
It Was Kids Started This
04:33
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The less you want the fight, the more you have to front one. Some quiet silver life was all we
ever knew. These seconds go so slow, but all the years are racing. I ask you why. You ask the
time. Was kids that started this. Adults get to fix it. I don’t want to make it break, well, not as
long as you don’t. Maybe longer. I’ll stay on this fog-bound ship, even as the banks roll
in. I’ll search every inch of it, even as the lights grow dim. There’ll be no landfall in the
Americas; where is that new-found land? When is the landfall in the Americas? There’ll be
no new-found land.
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6. |
Imperial Phase
05:16
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The dogs will chase the motorcycle, the snare will snap like rubber bands. Laura K she
knows the lowdown, as the clocks all wave their hands. The dogs will chase the motorcycle,
kettles steaming full ahead. How does it feel to watch the showdown, as the clouds break
overhead? Could be nothing, no, never mind. An empty room locked from inside. Step into
blank space, an end to this imperial phase. The dogs will catch the motorcycle.
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7. |
Anchorite
05:08
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On the street, a small silver reed; I pick it up and make it mine. The clocks of the town close
to twelve now - let them all chime. In the anchorite's cell, a devotional bell. A single note
rings on and on. An impression of stone on the temple bone at the call to prayer, and
everything changes. I fall to earth, and follow these Christmas voices muffled by the
snow. Anechoic, Phoenician black. This hooded sweatshirt's lost out with the
cold. Particulates rise as the candles die, and an incense bough hangs over Antioch. A
satellite high in the midnight sky catches the sun and everything changes. I fall to
earth. Climbing spiral stairs made out of gold. Anechoic, Phoenician black. And this trippy,
science fiction laser light show. Bread and the wine, earthly and divine, this simple stuff. And
everything changes.
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8. |
Intermodal
08:08
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Intermodal freight down through the Hormuz Strait, waking up at 3am. Watch time drip from a candlestick, slide back into that fever dream. Intermodal freight down through the Hormuz Strait, container port in Salalah. Maybe just like us, they’re pre-designed to rust, these twenty foot equivalents. River running backward as the vines of feedback climb: you know the wind that hits you is older than the pyramids. Intermodal freight down through the Hormuz Strait, shipbreaker beach off Ahmedabad. Maybe like our names, they’re different, the same? Some are painted powder blue. That star that's overhead is long since dead. But for us it burns, until it turns into iron. And the core collapse. Til the core collapse.
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KURAKURA London, UK
Formed on a night in Reykjavik, KURAKURA is a new electro-psych quartet based in the west
country.
They are Luke, Jags, Chris and Jase. Together they make music in that liminal space where physics meet metaphysics.
The song they recorded on that night in Iceland is about shipping containers and collapsing stars. It's one of eight tracks on their debut LP, Lockd Room Mysteries, out now.
... more
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