My better half showed up on Friday night with a surprise present for me...
A beautifully made intricate masterpiece of a package, housing a cassette split (a run of 100) between Thurston Moore and Gravitations.
TM starting with a crackle scrape and buzz, growling heavy; a jet set gramaphone into fizzed angelic guitar hymns moving quickly and sweetly through, dispelling and churning it up, sending it straight back out through the roof in beams as it came down... the clouds come in, the thick air smelling singed and electric.
Clear clean water on a Sunday morning, stream running through town past green climbers and pickup trucks and sunflares, picking up leaves and tin cans; sunlight sticking to the cool wet and gaining momentum / speeding across plains as the temperature fluctuates. Shadows flitting past. Blues spirits spiriting through.
Ascension, residual energies. Electric. Lose yourself in the storm, drone out perfection.
Gravitations on the flip, all spazzy jazzy drums and guitar sex... chaotic boxy thrashing and warm abandon, creating outlines and paper tangles in the air.