Dancing with a hoe: Looking into it with our eyes closed.

Thursday 10 July 2008

Looking into it with our eyes closed.

Psychoretinal paralysis. Photonsaturation. The minds eye retreats to soothing shadows. Crystalline fragments of consumed memory. Broken Continuity. The selective frequency channeling mass sacrifice driven hungry gnawing on the photoelectric bone. Fattening the indulgence of our dreams. The slaughter of our innocents. To hail the newborn king. Gladly thrusting tender hearts against a newly sharpened future. Cutting edge camouflage of parental neglect. Three dimensional appetites in a two dimensional world. Prefamine feeding frenzy. In fading memory on St.Stevens day, we search for those the madness overlooked. Critical faculties hang from screaming nerves. Hypothermic nostalgia for more caring times. Plastic wrapped, old husks pack small in the formless void of ritualised love. The skips are overflowing with discarded hopes and childhoods longing. Lotto till Lent, Blotto till spent. Whilst priests impressed by suffering, proclaim the New Republic in the spring.

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About Izmusic

"My melodies are songs without words, none vocal narrative. Folk have rushed by for years and barely glimpsed the tune. A few hang around and listen for a while, but the street has many distractions. My back is no longer against the wall,this is the first chance I've had in eleven years to unravel my tunes, at present encrypted into a whole tangle of technique excercises. You've missed some wondrous epic sessions sad that most often I was the only person,mortal at least, to hear them.
Eight hours a day playing in the icy chill of city streets through several winters alters the character of your technique to some how transcend the harsh discomforts and "make some good of the day".
MUSIC IZ A MIGHTY MAGIC! The first cathartic offerings were created hastily in a frantic effort to master the production.It's all past time , I make music for the moment the occassion, a kind of relativity fix. A divine conspiracy, a benign heresy. The line of least probability may offer opportunity of greater possibility.
Enjoy my primitive efforts. Plain song busking,"strictly kitchen ". The music of the heart bridges the ambiguity of fumbling words,overcomes cultural barriers. Music like God is personal none vocal meaning in the voice of the unspeakable word. The "You know what I mean nostalgia " space ,whether we've done the daring deed or not, where the mind might put on clean socks and start afresh. Familiar phrasing from our collective vocal tradition triggers epic vision, emotional empathy, mathematical poetry, sympathetic reveries create lifelines to the greater mind. In all styles, in all languages the flute and drum resist the restrictive dogmatic control of state or temple."