Ah wowee. You can download them for free, or a donation, over at his site.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Glowing in the darkest night
Oh my, oh my. I need to get hold of this album.
Ah wowee. You can download them for free, or a donation, over at his site.
Ah wowee. You can download them for free, or a donation, over at his site.
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
You caught me drifting
Saltillo - I Hate You
The Pancake Repairman's channel over on Youtube is worth a little peek if you enjoy watching snippets of old films cut to ambient post-rocky type music.
Aspidistrafly - Porcelain Sky Wink
Monday, January 30, 2012
Saturday, January 07, 2012
Pages of Lumin
A while ago I was flicking through books in a gift shop, waiting for some people to surface from an exhibition. I was feeling a mite grumpy. The exhibition had been so rammed i'd given up on it, and now I had to loiter in a crowded shop, pretending to be interested in tidy displays of pencil sharpeners and posters.
I nestled into a small gap infront of the books and started to paw hopefully at intriguing-looking spines. Help, I willed the books. And they did! When I peeled open a copy of The wrong place by Brecht Evens, my grumpiness lifted. People nudged and jostled past me, hands reached above my head for heavy books, and I stood there oblivious, staring into the colourful scenes, engrossed, my feet locking unmovable roots into the ground.
I didn't notice my buddies had already left and were huddled outside the window in the street, kicking their feet. I don't know how long they had been there. I'd been lost in those pages for a while, and I shuffled out feeling guilty and entranced.
Wandering around town, I was still mulling over the images. I had so wanted to keep the book, but I always find it hard to justify buying anything that isn't edible. I don't like to accumulate stuff. But I still want to paw at those luscious watercolours. They look like beautiful, kaleidoscopic 'Where's Wally?' scenes. I don't really know what's going on in them but they are somehow hypnotic. Nightclubs, stations, parquet floors, parks, streets, shadows.. it's an alluring, quietly chaotic journey.
Here is his blog. He's Belgian, so only a little of it is written in English, but there are a glorious amount of pictures.
I nestled into a small gap infront of the books and started to paw hopefully at intriguing-looking spines. Help, I willed the books. And they did! When I peeled open a copy of The wrong place by Brecht Evens, my grumpiness lifted. People nudged and jostled past me, hands reached above my head for heavy books, and I stood there oblivious, staring into the colourful scenes, engrossed, my feet locking unmovable roots into the ground.
I didn't notice my buddies had already left and were huddled outside the window in the street, kicking their feet. I don't know how long they had been there. I'd been lost in those pages for a while, and I shuffled out feeling guilty and entranced.
Wandering around town, I was still mulling over the images. I had so wanted to keep the book, but I always find it hard to justify buying anything that isn't edible. I don't like to accumulate stuff. But I still want to paw at those luscious watercolours. They look like beautiful, kaleidoscopic 'Where's Wally?' scenes. I don't really know what's going on in them but they are somehow hypnotic. Nightclubs, stations, parquet floors, parks, streets, shadows.. it's an alluring, quietly chaotic journey.
Here is his blog. He's Belgian, so only a little of it is written in English, but there are a glorious amount of pictures.
Day after day
I run up and down stairs, along the tops of estates. I'm hidden under wintry layers. My breath escapes in billowy, incriminating wisps. I step on through my trails of cloud, look out across the treetops. I hurry on. And my mind drifts.
What a tempting communion.
If you click upon this link, there is a story told through a delicious scroll of illustrations and spoken word.
http://the-bea.st/
I love Laura Marling's diction, it's clear cut and lilting. She moves us whilst it seems she herself hardly stirs or smiles, a pretty static performer. But the songs stand alone, she doesn't need to impress us with anything else.
"The beast was a creature I did not know, I held him once and could not let him go."
Yet "the more you bent and shook for me the more inclined I was to flee",
says she.
What a tempting communion.
If you click upon this link, there is a story told through a delicious scroll of illustrations and spoken word.
http://the-bea.st/
I love Laura Marling's diction, it's clear cut and lilting. She moves us whilst it seems she herself hardly stirs or smiles, a pretty static performer. But the songs stand alone, she doesn't need to impress us with anything else.
"The beast was a creature I did not know, I held him once and could not let him go."
Yet "the more you bent and shook for me the more inclined I was to flee",
says she.
Laura Marling - Night after night
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