Guns! Razors! Knives! (fuckwitme)!

Diamond Eyes is red...soaking wet.

Its far more livelier than Saturday Night Wrist, with a more straightforward approach to being loud and seemingly less complex. The synths are less apparent with the main focus on guitars, drums, and vocals. Even the lyrics, though as beautiful as ever have become more frank than we're accustomed to hearing from frontman, Chino Moreno. However, the most charismatic feature of Diamond Eyes is attitude. This album doesn't walk it gambols across, head nodding and lips licked provocatively, it taunts and teases, titillates and even torments the listeners who feel like more as the songs creep across their skulls.

From the heavy drive structure of Rocket Skates to the swing bounce of You've Seen the Butcher, to the way Chino's voice rides the beat on Risk and Prince; there is definitely a lot of new elements indigenous to this album that the band has introduced to their repertoire. There is also the noticeable absence of electronic drum programming, almost a tradition since White Pony's Teenager and later followed by Lucky You and Pink Cellphone. Diamond Eyes takes it back to Around the Fur, which was the last album to contain a title track.

The lyrics seem to be about intimacy, trust, and truth, subsurface appearances and the nakedness of one's true identity. Though, as a result the songs sound like they're about sex, a subject that is well adept to teach all of the aforementioned ideas. This is just my impression of the words. I mentioned above that Chino is at his most frank, well thats only in comparison to his other albums; he no doubt still retains that elusiveness that so trademarks his words.

While we're talking opinions, Rocket Skates is the penultimate song of this album. Abe's drumming and Chino's guitar are having so much fun and yet the song is deadly and seems like it might fly out of control at any point. Delgado's sine waves are like background warnings, while the lyrics are sweet and proud, threatening and flirtatious. You don't know whether you want to fight or fuck when you hear it.

American Idlers

Yesterday I went to see a friend perform live at an open mic showcase in the lower east side. It was an interesting night. However, I came to a rather obvious conclusion based upon some of the other acts of that same interesting night. There are people who are purposely attempting to become pop stars. This is a no-brainer if I'd only stop to consider today's entertainment, Making the Band, American Idol, and other shows that turn nobodies into pseudo-stars overnight. It shouldn't surprise me then, when a girl heads on stage half-naked with back-up dancers at an open mic. The back-up dancers, shocked me more than the see-thru nylon bodysuit. All she needed was a headset microphone and flashy lights. Of course the song was generic and the performance was an insincere attempt to ironically "dress up" the otherwise boring song.

The notion of chasing fame is not a new one, I'd just never experienced it in person before. Half of the acts in this open mic event were doing just that, purposely promoting themselves to become the next copy of whatever pop artist is currently the representation of their respective genre. I'm not angry, nor am I passing judgement, I'm only a bit confused. I don't understand why someone would purposely want to become that big. I guess to me, I only see the bad side. Tabloids, Paparazzi, E! Hollywood stories, stress, claustrophobia, or even simply not being able to do everyday things without people freaking out about it. To each is own, "one man's waste is another man's soap." I suppose being rich and influential is enough of a compensation but thats only if you're poor. Once you're rich and influential, where do you go from there? No Human is satisfied once they're dissatisfied. All it takes is one grievance to get the dominos tumbling. Any brief moment of accomplishment is only going to bring about more confidence to attempt new accomplishments; ones you never even desired before becoming rich and influential. And the higher you climb the harder you'll fall, and if you fall too early, you'll try so hard to get back up and in the Entertainment Industry, which drools out new versions of what's Popularly Acceptable weekly, you'll find that you've been replaced even before you fell.

But Fame and The Pursuit of Fame is a talent. It really is, its hard work to be safe and relevant during an entire career. It takes energy, innovation, and an uncompromising will to try to "make it" in the commercial music industry. My problem is that I usually expect an artist to use this energy, innovation, and uncompromising will on their music itself. I don't care about the gimmick, because more than anything I listen to the music, not the recording, not the video, or stage extravaganza. But listening alone, is no longer enough, we have passed that point where listening is stimulating enough; we need that television from Back to the Future II, the one Marty's son is watching with like 12 channels on at once. We need phones that can be used as the media equivalent to the swiss army knife. Ours, is the ADD-Age, in addition to not being able to stay interested in one thing for too long we need a sum of everything at once. Sadly, its nearly impossible to thoroughly appreciate anything through such simultaneous over-indulgence.

The Past Must Be Heard (Loudly)

Conclusions by Luigi Russolo

from The Art of Noises (1913)

Conclusion 1

Futurist musicians must continually enlarge and enrich the field of sounds. This corresponds to a need in our sensibility. We note, n fact, in the composers of genius, a tendency towards the most complicated dissonances. As these move further and further away from pure sound, they almost achieve noise-sound. This need and this tendency cannot be satisfied except by the adding and the substitution of noises for sounds.

Conclusion 2

Futurist musicians must substitute for the limited variety of tones possessed by orchestral instruments today the infinite variety of tones of noises, reproduced with appropriate mechanisms.

Conclusion 3

The musician's sensibility, liberated from facile and traditional rhythm, must find in noises the means of extension and renewal, given that every noise offers the union of the most diverse rhythms apart from the predominant one.

Conclusion 4

Since every noise contains a predominant general tone in its irregular vibrations it will be easy to obtain in the construction of instruments which imitate them a sufficiently extended variety of tones, semitones, and quarter-tones. This variety of tones will not remove the characteristic tone from each noise, but will amplify only its texture or extension.

Conclusion 5

The practical difficulties in constructing these instruments are not serious. Once the mechanical principal which produces the noise has been found, its tone can be changed by following the same general laws of acoustics. If the instrument is to have a rotating movement, for instance, we will increase or decrease the speed, whereas if it is to not have rotating movement the noise-producing parts will vary in size and tautness.

Conclusion 6

The new orchestra will achieve the most complex and novel aural emotions not by incorporating a succession of life-imitating noises but by manipulating fantastic juxtapositions of these varied tones and rhythms. Therefore an instrument will have to offer the possibility of tone changes and varying degrees of amplification.

Conclusion 7

The variety of noises is infinite. If today, when we have perhaps a thousand different machines, we can distinguish a thousand different noises, tomorrow, as new machines multiply, we will be able to distinguish ten, twenty, or thirty thousand different noises, not merely in a simply imitative way, but to combine them according to our imagination.

Conclusion 8

We therefore invite young musicians of talent to conduct a sustained observation of all noises, in order to understand the various rhythms of which the are composed, their principal and secondary tones. By comparing the various tones of noises with

those of sounds, they will be convinced of the extent to which the former exceed the latter. This will afford not only an understanding, but also a taste and passion for

noises. After being conquered by Futurist eyes our multiplied sensibilities will at last hear with Futurist ears. In this way the motors and machines of our industrial cities will one day be consciously attuned, so that every factory will be transformed into an intoxicating orchestra of noises.

Fish Out of Water

I had a dream last night

a fish on land

gasping for breath

just laughed

and sang this song

is life like this for everyone?

is life like this for everyone?

Gill Expansion

I love these lyrics. They are by an artist who's songs are instantly residence of my heart and mind. Lhasa de Sela, who I have blogged about a number of times already, is like if my brain were to separate from my body and sing to me riddles that may one day lead to a reunion.

Forget that "fish" is a very common symbol for savior, forget that "water" similarly symbolizes origin or purity and truth, just think of yourself and your life, just think about how you breathe. Its no big deal to you because you are used to it. How painful it must be to a fish? What were the steps for that ancestor of ours that dared to venture further than the rest and emerge from that primordial beach. Surely Grandpa Zoa had to become amphibious before reptilian and later mammal. How painful was it, breathing air, to the amphibian pioneers? That is before they got used to it.

I immediately think about scent. Have you ever been on a train with a noxiously oppressive odor? Have you noticed that some commuters remain in that same train car, regardless of the green cloud above their heads. After a while, the olfactory senses become used to the otherwise repugnant stench. The way a serious cigarette smoker can't smell his/her clothes the way a non-smoker (like myself) can immediately become repulsed by it.

The lyrics bring to my mind, overstimulation and how an outsider may respond to what may appear absolutely normal and in fact, natural to others.

I love that the fish laughs, perhaps finding the situation ridiculous. "Only a masochist would live under these conditions," the fish might think to itself. If breathing in this song can be said to be the act of living itself, then you may do well to conclude the fish observes a pain that rolls synonymous to living. A somewhat prerequisite suffering taxed on us land breathing creatures. If this is the case then we don't seem to mind, in fact, some of us believe it natural. "Life's a bitch and then you die!"

I don't think Life is a bitch, Aesop Rock sums it quite nicely when he said, "Life's not a bitch/ life is a beautiful woman/ you're just mad cuz she won't let you get that pussy/ maybe she didn't feel ya shared any similar interests/ or maybe you're just an asshole who couldn't sweet talk the princess..." Its all about circumstance, true-- but is pain truly part of life? Has someone lived more simply under the basis that they've experienced more pain and suffering than another? Or even experience itself, is Life defined by experience? If a person does, by comparison, very "little" in life, does that in some sense imply that that person has wasted a chance to truly live? By such criteria, only the thrill seekers are worth the lungs in their chests. But most thrill seekers are just bored and overstimulated, they constantly need to "raise the bar" to feel as if Life has any meaning. Nothing wrong with that. I myself am bored and in many aspects overstimulated. But is there anything wrong with being satisfied, truly satisfied and happy doing nothing.

What was I talking about? Whatever!

Music Video Fridays: Sum of Summer

I love this video and I love to love Donna Summer. This song is Kylie Minogue at her best and Donner Summer not even trying. The blonde guy dressed in all-tight-all-white is awesome! He looks high off his mind, then again I would be too as this song is Ecstasy as a melody, not to mention in the 70s Donna Summer was brown cocaine. Seriously though, this song is beyond sexy, beyond seductive; I feel like a mosquito who bites a vampire. Whatever that means.

And this is Donna Summer at her best:

Gilda Spins a Web

My Monthly Aresian Horoscope

March 21 - April 19

You will see a spider and you will recognize a fellow artist, and abstract designer, pattern-maker who creates elaborate, tenuous pieces whose sole function is in fact a practical one, nutrition. For this spider, like many others, spins its web to catch its meal; its meal is that which in turn keeps the spider from a morte fame.

Like many other Aries you do not kill spiders and have a very special appreciation for this insect that mainly feeds on other insects. You sit yourself seated and follow as the spider seemingly descends, suspended in air. You listen as the spider begins to sing you a song, its one you as an Aries have always known.

A Happy Death

I'm Going In

by Lhasa De Sela

from the album Lhasa,

released Apr. 2009

When my lifetime had just ended

and my death had just begun

I told you I'd never leave you

but I knew this day would come

Give me blood for my blood wedding

I am ready to be born

I feel new as if this body

were the first I'd ever worn

I need straw for the straw fire

I need hard earth for the plow

Don't ask me to reconsider

I am ready to go now

I'm going in, I'm going in

This is how it starts

I can see in so far

but afterwards we always forget

who we are

I'm going in, I'm going in

I can stand the pain

and the blinding heat

'cause I won't remember you

the next time we meet

You'll be making the arrangements

you'll be trying to set me free

Not a moment for the meeting

I'll be busy as a bee

You'll be talking to me

but I just won't understand

I'll be falling by the wayside

you'll be holding out your hand

Don't you tempt me with perfection

I have other things to do

I didn't burrow this far in

just to come right back to you

I'm going in, I'm going in

I have never been so ugly

I have never been so slow

These prison walls get closer now

the further in I go

I'm going in, I'm going in

I like to see you from a distance

and just barely believe

and think that

even lost and blind

I still invented love

I'm going in, I'm going in

I'm going in

When Three Beans are Worth Three Cows

Villain man never ran with crills in his hand

and won't stop rocking 'til he clocked in a gazzillion grand

Such goes the best hip-hop song of the year; such goes what happens when two of my favorite artists from seemingly different genres collaborate. When I first heard Gazzillion Ear by Doom as remixed by Thom Yorke of Radiohead, it was the first time in a long stretch that I was genuinely jealous of another artist. What Yorke produced for Villain was new and dark, it seduced and left room for seduction. That is, it held its own but only when you hear Doom's baritone drunk flow over it do you realize that the beat was indeed missing something. That something was the mind of "a real weirdo with a bugged rare flow and the way his hair grow--ugly as a scarecrow," as Doom himself offers as a self-portrait.

The Man in the Iron Mask

The way Doom rhymes should not be possible. There is some law being defied in this performance. His words just dribble out and yet it isn't drivel, if he has a speech impediment it doesn't impair his articulation, which it should by definition. Even when on a song like Gazzillion Ear remix, where Doom is delivering a moderately fast paced flow, its through such an ironic voice that he, pardon the cliche, makes it sound so easy. Its as if he's possessed, or as if its the most natural and possibly most inconvenient thing in the world to rhyme. He sounds sinister, yes but he also, does he not, sound bored and unimpressed. Doom's flow practically looks you right in your astonished eyes and asks, "is this suppose to be difficult?"

Don't look now, keep walking

traded three beans for this cow, cheap talking

The Kid with Treefingers

Thom Yorke creates for Doom, a dark, eerie ghost of a beat. The high hats are angry, like the teeth on a typewriter biting letters onto aluminum foil; they were the first thing I noticed in the song right before Doom starts spitting. A good portion into Doom's marathon of self-assured verbiage, Thom adds hummed harmonies that float and billow out, fog-like, covering the track in an ambivalent mist.

Alone, that is, sans Doom's vocals, Gazzillion Ear remix could have easily been mistaken for a b-side to Yorke's Eraser compositions. Snuggled warmly up against A Rat's Nest and Jetstream; button drums that minimally pop, wailing phantasms, and dark tones, each collectively inspiring an apprehension or paranoia.

One man's waste is another man's soap

Son's fan based on a brother man's dope

Essentially just a song about success and not having to compromise as a condition to notoriety. But Doom makes use of of a wide variety of references from wrestler, Jake the Snake to the recent, Hadron Particle Collider, in a four verse remix that has no hook or chorus and yet maintains within it, a sense of urgency throughout Doom's approximate 96 bars; and Yorke marvelously keeps the beat simple with subtle changes and shifts that conjure some sort of LSD journey while the Villain layers his lines like tetris blocks. Mind you, he's not impressed.

November Heart Beats for Lhasa De Sela

I Didn't Call and You Didn't See

Me for a While

by AE Paulino

Lhasa Lhasa O dear,

Dearest Lhasa, from where, where

If not only from the lobby of your heart

Does that voice carry four chambers

On its back and up through the slight

Aperture of throat, does it compress

All that blood into song, into vibrations of air?

Lhasa Lhasa O dear,

Dearest Lhasa, from where there,

If only there does that pain swell and clenched

Like eyes, does a tear damp those fists?

Lhasa, for it is November

Dearly November and your airs make love,

Sheets of fallen temperatures that wrap the streets--

O dear, you make again, the heart with which I move

Its not enough, no longer to know--

Its not honest, no longer never less, to hold most still,

And from a tongue like a stage, truth will act

When the play, O dear, bloats with necessity

Lhasa Lhasa O dear,

Dearly Dearest, when should I,

If ever I should with this There There Heart,

That trickles and drafts, that needs a pin,

A button and perhaps an Icy Late Fall's Palm;

When should I sing from that palm,

The necessity that could make a Lhasa song

out of the absence thereafter?

Because,

Its not enough, no longer to think--

Its misfortune, no longer the more, to press most still,

and from a tongue like a hot tin roof, truth will jump

When the building, story by story, bloats with desperation

Blood Simple

There's a vampire craze, when isn't there? It happens. I think every generation has a vampire craze. The media loves it, they go on as if its never happened before. So lets pretend that the above picture is in fact Gary Oldman in the role of a Television Set.

We Suck Young Blood (Your Time is up.)

by Radiohead

from the album Hail to the Thief

released June 9, 2003

Are you hungry?

Are you sick?

Are you begging for a break?

Are you sweet?

Are you fresh?

Are you strung up by the wrists?

We want the young blood.

Are you fracturing?

Are you torn at the seams?

Would you do anything?

Flea-bitten? Motheaten?

We suck young blood.

Won't let the creeping ivy

Won't let the nervous bury me

Our veins are thinned

Our rivers poisoned

We want the sweet meats.

We want the young blood.

We suck young blood.

We want the young blood.

Put the Blame on Mame

Gilda - (1946) Directed by Charles Vidor

Starring Rita Hayworth, Glenn Ford, George Macready,

Joseph Calleia

Gilda, are you decent?

Rita Hayworth stunningly stings as the title character in this 1946 film noir classic. Gilda is the type of girl you hear about in a Deftones song, an Rx Queen. In fact, White Pony would make an interesting soundtrack for the constant knife party between Rita Hayworth's Gilda and Glenn Ford's Johnny Farrell.

I hate you so much that I would destroy myself to take you down with me.

Hate is a powerful and, as the film states, "exciting" emotion. To have hate is to have love, the line between both is thin and translucent. To hold something to such an esteem as hate or love is to extremely wind up your feelings to a heightened sensitivity, so tightly pressured that at any sudden relief the hold snaps. This is why the slightest disappointment with a lover can easily slip into hate or why in contrast, the obsession of hatred becomes as consuming as love until it is warped into love, a harsh, violent explosion of love.

I hate you so much I think I'm going to die from it. Darling...I think I'm going to die from it.

The Love Sequential

I'm pretty sure there is only one woman for me. I've had the fortunate plaisir of not only meeting her but enjoying a brief accumulation of time with her that might not sum to much but given the quality, has lasted.

There is comfort but there is also tension, understanding trailed by confusion, surrender but also dominance, pride, and conceit...The likes of which only Selfish Lovers may know. For now, we're to make due as friends, which apparently we can't stop being, regardless of sabotage from either party. Not to portray myself as hopeful but there is that little human habit of assumption through pattern recognition and conditioning, it tells me, "its far from over." Thats not a good thing but I keep it to myself (I guess not anymore).

It doesn't matter since she doesn't read this blog. She shouldn't be surprised, its not a crush, we both know the deal. Over the years I've made a myth of her, only recently have I returned to those first eyes of mine that originally saw her.

here's a video that says it better than me.

Playing Herself in Her Girlfriend's Mink

Sally got a one track mind

It doesn't matter if its yours or mine

'Cause if you're getting dough

And you wanna get wit' her

You can hit her!

Goddamn, my borough looks good in black and white. I've watched this video most of the afternoon. Sally, apart from having a one track mind, is also really cute. That probably doesn't help her situation one bit. Then again, it depends on your perspective.

October Make it Happen

FANTASTIC MOON PIX

If I could request one thing from the media

this month, what, what, what ever shall it be?

Chan Marshall a.k.a Cat Power partnering up with El-Producto to make an R&B record, of course since its El-P and Cat Power, it won't exactly be R&B but their interpretation of what an R&B record could be through their powers combined, aligned, and cosigned.

Especially ill if:

. El-P restricts himself to only production duties, meaning no vocals, maybe a chorus or two, and some occasional shit talk never hurts.

. They tour for the project, meaning I get to see this amazing idea live.

. Its only a one time project.

. The project involves alter egos from both parties.

Each paired with their very own vivid assortment of idiosyncrasies, what could possibly go wrong?

Telekinetic Freedom

Collapse the Walls

by Mr. Lif

from the album I Heard it Today

released 21-April, 2009

One.

Where's the law the says if I make a buck you've gotta get a cut? / Get the fuck outta my pockets and my eye sockets / Bad programming with a smooth slow jam in the background / Thats how you got us all locked down / That sound that I hear / You telling us to fear / Like the motherfuckin' Earth will end this year / Yea, its the same old same old / Actual development is in slow mo / Work a steady day job then go home / You're free to roam anywhere within our zone / Hmmmm / Not really loving all the options? / Here's a little tax break / Now go shopping! / Am I the only one that feels hollow? / A sense of sorrow / From a predesigned Tomorrow? / This world only exists for monetary cause / We should use our mind power to collapse the walls!

(Edan rolls the beat)

Two.

When I use the term "The World" / I'm referring to the complex / Megaplex / That never lets you breathe / "Fly over it" / But it never lets you leave / "And you only know" / Everything it lets you see / O.D. on the norm / 'Til we all conform / Same attitude / Same shoes and ties are worn / Then swarm to the screen / 'Til the images seen / Make you forget to dream / Only living for the green and... / Maybe we should take it to the start again / Burn up all the money and then start bartering / Smarter than, this construct / Misconduct / Awestruck / At the fact that we're all fucked! / All ducks in a row / thriving off one mineral / Hurts on the low / So, I compose syllables / Visual / This empire's gonna fall / If we use our mind power to collapse the walls!

(Edan flips the beat)

Three.

Take a deep breath / As I give it my best / To flee the realms of stress / Look! Now I'm at the top of Everest / At the crest with my empress / I suggest, we reside in no particular address / Leave the world behind / See the true divine / Lack of limitation through creation / It can't be found within the borders of a nation / Patiently I ski on treetops and eavesdrop / As the leaves talk / If there's an earthquake / I'll let the beat drop / Knees knock in panic / So I cradle the planet / Take a thought and expand it / 'Til it becomes a mode of transit / And it takes me / Where my imagination finds elation / To define sensation / I had to cling to correlation / For a patient waiting in my foyer / I'm like Okoye / Run through / Hit 'em with that check one-two / Travel from the stage to the stone age without a pause / Cause I use my mind power to collapse the walls!

Dark Matter

My Monthly Aresian Horoscope

March 21 - April 19

So the last few days are part of the last few weeks which make up at least 2 months of general despondency and lack of motivation. I've been crossed by feelings of directionless distress and creative anxiety. However, last night I began what might become the means to pull me out of the overcast gloom. After weeks of searching for inspiration or simply lacking interest in any subject willing to inspire, I now sit with a smile on face and obsession in ears.

I started a soundtrack.

Two pieces yesterday and one today. It feels good, productivity.

So yes, I started a soundtrack. Never mind you that there is no film, neither in the works or in post-production. I have the story in my head and I'm writing it as I go along, the film will be written to the score. I cannot divulge too much as I've noticed in the past that pleasing ideas become less interesting after you share them, they are that less yours and you resent it a bit. All I can say is it'll be titled Cosmonaut and I will find a way to have it available for all who wish to listen.

All In a September Day's Nothing

I am sitting in my room listening to Asobi Seksu. This casts a gray veil over my eyes. I've just finished spending a good portion of the afternoon reading Identity Crisis, its a DC graphic novel involving the Justice League (yeah, I get down like that). Its dark enough outside that I have my room light, like a halo over my head, shining in holy advertisement. I'm debating whether or not to give The Notorious Betty Page another chance. The DVD is piled atop my bureau along with other DVDs that I don't consider essential enough to seat as part of my main collection. I debate this in between guilt sessions, self-appointed, glowing from Grass' Tin Drum that beats louder and louder for overdue attention, that was in fact propitiated, instead by a comic book. Also in mind, is an essay by Aldous Huxley about The Dalton Plan. I think about how this method of teaching seems really stimulating and does in fact serve prosperous results. I recall the essay and realize how much more I've enjoyed Huxley's writing over the evolving reads and moreover, how bad my memory truly is.

Soon dinner is served and I interrupt myself for my stomachs sake. Somewhere on TV, The Last Samurai is showing. Tom Cruise teaches samurais a valuable lesson which they've in turn taught him. This is happening somewhere on some channel on my television set, which remains off. Mary Harron definitely deserves another chance.

Yesterday I shopped with Kiki, rather I accompanied Kiki as she shopped. This made me realize how well behaved my spending impulses have been as of late. Of course, they have had no choice, four dollars occupied the vast, abandoned tunnels where my checking account used to be; that was until Thursday when they were joined by yet a few friends to warm but not remove the murk from which they are now currently based. I spotted a few books I wanted from Strand. Camus, Nabokov, Woolf, all the old friends threw cutting glances and I edited our visual conversations short, as short in fact, as my wallet. Kiki, seemed cheerful. I like when she's cheerful, it makes things alright.

At this moment I am now thinking whether I want to hear Peter Gabriel or 2pac. Here Comes The Flood or Never Had a Friend Like Me. Whatever I choose is just to provide a soundtrack for my debate and self-abasing guilt, for my stomachs and their financial appetites, for Lily Taylor and Helen Parkhurst, for the attention of superheroes and the negligence of reservation.

I don't know where I'm going with this but I just hope I can say that and everything else, honestly.

Farewell Atlantis

Here Comes The Flood

by Peter Gabriel

from the album Peter Gabriel (Car)

released 25-February, 1977

when the night shows

the signal glows on radios

all the strange things

they come and go, as early warnings

stranded starfish have no place to hide

still waiting for the swollen easter tide

there's no point in direction

we cannot even choose a side

i took the old track

the hollow shoulder, across the water

on the tall cliffs

they were getting older,

sons and daughters

the jaded underworld was riding high

waves of steel hurled metal at the sky

and as the nail sunk in the cloud

the rain was warm and soaked the crowd

lord, here comes the flood

we'll say goodbye to flesh and blood

if again the seas are silent in any still alive

it'll be those who gave their island

to survive

drink up dreamers, you're running dry

when the flood calls

you have no home, you have no walls

in the thunder clash

you're a thousand minds, within a flash

don't be afraid to cry at what you see

the actors gone, there's only you and me

and if we break before the dawn,

they'll use up what we used to be

lord, here comes the flood

we'll say goodbye to flesh and blood

if again the seas are silent in any still alive

it'll be those who gave the island

to survive

drink up dreamers, you're running dry

Soundtrack for a Deluge

5. Bjork - Storm (from Music from Matthew Barney's Drawing Restraint 9)

4. Deftones - Beware (from Saturday Night Wrist)

3. Thom Yorke - And It Rained All Night (from The Eraser)

2. Tool - AEnima (from AEnima)

1. Peter Gabriel - Here Comes the Flood (from Peter Gabriel 1)

Ingredients for a Proud Smile

Hearing two or three Lhasa songs in the film, Cold Souls and just as recently hearing an RJD2 instrumental played at each end of commercial breaks for the TV Series Madmen, makes me happier than I can say.