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Nathan Fake - Hard Islands (Border Community) (pg. 10)
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| Dj_Es-Dva |
| I like Turtle, the rest sound from ok to a bit random. |
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| InDeepSpace |
| 'Basic Mountain' is my favourite tune of this album. Very nice organ in this. |
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| Guest |
| Vinyl just arrived on friday. Narrier and Fetinger are killing me. This album rocks |
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| Kismet7 |
| quote: | Originally posted by Guest
Vinyl just arrived on friday. Narrier and Fetinger are killing me. This album rocks |
It is looking like my defense of Nathan Fake's work here shall not go down in vain...
Personally, I love everything on this Hard Islands mini EP. Its not music that will inspires me creatively anytime soon, but it is enjoyable work. It has its place at the moment for me. Nice lil soundtrack to drive home to as the skyscrapers pass by, and the passengers in the cars next door are talking away on their cellphones, as middle aged man walks accross the street pondering his next triumph or next fight with demons. Its good music indeed, if you actually listen to it and imagine the space it was made for.
ps: nice debate in this thread ;) |
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| Ted Promo |
| quote: | Originally posted by Kismet7
It is looking like my defense of Nathan Fake's work here shall not go down in vain...
Personally, I love everything on this Hard Islands mini EP. Its not music that will inspires me creatively anytime soon, but it is enjoyable work. It has its place at the moment for me. Nice lil soundtrack to drive home to as the skyscrapers pass by, and the passengers in the cars next door are talking away on their cellphones, as middle aged man walks accross the street pondering his next triumph or next fight with demons. Its good music indeed, if you actually listen to it and imagine the space it was made for.
ps: nice debate in this thread ;) |
Music for when the birds part the sky in an admonishing way, bending cirrus and masking moments in different shades of instance.
Music for when the ideas seem most ripe, a fettered miasma emanating mellifluously so sliding gingerly into place.
Parsimonious happenstance, happening without circumstance. Partial birth contortion, bifurcating relapse with a rusty ax.
I knew a man, Jack Herrier. He lived a subtle life yet convivial nonetheless. His presence was at times domineering, but it was his smile that placated. His causes were just and defined much like his will and jawline. His complexion was gruff, especially against the colloquial and quaint backdrop of the bucolic town he resided in.
One day, whilst copping an Emerson style of thinking, he decided to take a brisk walk through the nearby meadows. Dry grass crunched under his feet as he took each step. Occasionally he would step on an ant mound and pause for a brief reprieve. Either that or to relish the moment, however fleeting.
It was a cloudy day, nimbus strattling stratos, mythos and burning ember daffodils bounced against his ankles. Dodging nettles, he pressed onward, as if there was an intended destination, just the itenerary defied him. Suddenly, he stopped, a glaze formed over his pale gray eyes. Hands in pocket, he stared toward what appeared to be an inevitable event horizon.
Instead, the sky turned pink, the clouds receded in an nominal fashion. Nathan Fake appeared from the haze.
Music for this. Music for time. Music for an occasion.
Jack Herrier stood. |
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| Kismet7 |
| quote: | Originally posted by Ted Promo
Music for when the birds part the sky in an admonishing way, bending cirrus and masking moments in different shades of instance.
Music for when the ideas seem most ripe, a fettered miasma emanating mellifluously so sliding gingerly into place.
Parsimonious happenstance, happening without circumstance. Partial birth contortion, bifurcating relapse with a rusty ax.
I knew a man, Jack Herrier. He lived a subtle life yet convivial nonetheless. His presence was at times domineering, but it was his smile that placated. His causes were just and defined much like his will and jawline. His complexion was gruff, especially against the colloquial and quaint backdrop of the bucolic town he resided in.
One day, whilst copping an Emerson style of thinking, he decided to take a brisk walk through the nearby meadows. Dry grass crunched under his feet as he took each step. Occasionally he would step on an ant mound and pause for a brief reprieve. Either that or to relish the moment, however fleeting.
It was a cloudy day, nimbus strattling stratos, mythos and burning ember daffodils bounced against his ankles. Dodging nettles, he pressed onward, as if there was an intended destination, just the itenerary defied him. Suddenly, he stopped, a glaze formed over his pale gray eyes. Hands in pocket, he stared toward what appeared to be an inevitable event horizon.
Instead, the sky turned pink, the clouds receded in an nominal fashion. Nathan Fake appeared from the haze.
Music for this. Music for time. Music for an occasion.
Jack Herrier stood. |
Whatever you did here, I have to say to you...good job. |
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| Guest |
| quote: | Originally posted by Kismet7
Whatever you did here, I have to say to you...good job. |
I think he made fun of you:) |
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| Ted Promo |
I am the lotus petal
Caught between the smoldering metal
Lock up your revlon
Make-up with the differentials
Formica cyst
A slogan brings out my alliteration
Lay down in the acupuncture
Just to listen to the lone conjecture
Living in the Hooverville
And I like the unlit ceiling lamp
I can tell you like me
By the way you ignore me
I feel alright
Call the plastic surgeon
I think I bought too much milk
Please, this is urgent
Smother me in highly-priced silk
Let me die on the flat
Just like the plank
I can shout in dismay
On the donkey, fear the horseplay
And I can swim in the floatsam
Wash away with the jetsam
But it all came flooding back
Separated into sections
Together we are strong
But divided we still fall
My nylon heaven
That space between
Painted krylon when seven
I can see what you mean
I'm addicted to my espresso
And the bitter aftertaste
I watch the subway
As people get misplaced
I want to ride to the moon
At exactly 55mph
And witness the stars fade
Before I reach old age
The inertia is waning
Nothing is waiting
The sun is abating
So lets set the seats up facing that western sky
Maybe we can watch the beginning, as well as the end
Then our faces met the asphalt
If only our cars were faster. |
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| Ted Promo |
Music is this.
Herrier and chastity. A vapid pestilence under staunch guidance from the willow cult. His brow built up with residue, the earth trembling, quivering beneath his feet. Nathan laid a hand casually upon his shoulder, near the nape of his neck, sending a gelid transmission through his spine. An austere and sullen emotion overwhelmed him, as though a harbinger of ill tide broke force and rank to inform him of demise.
Phalanx against the flatware, blunt force trauma and Tony Award-winning drama.
Jack gathered his thoughts which were scattered and splintered across his blemished consciousness. Snapping back into a murky reality, he slipped the knife up towards Nathan's throat as if by instinct. A fear gripped onto him, snaking its way into his mouth and forcing him to swallow letting it trickle down the back of his esophagus and settling like a bit of heartburn at the entrance to his stomach. He felt as if every capillary was clotted and seething with interest, on the precipice of bursting with all lapses in logic and emotion.
And then Armin came on and he took off his member's only jacket and revealed his Armada shirt and Nathan left and got into his 96 Acura Integra and left to go watch Raptor Island on dvd. |
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| Kismet7 |
| quote: | Originally posted by Guest
I think he made fun of you:) |
yah? das kool dood. |
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| Ted Promo |
BIBLICAL
ECUMENICAL
CHANDELIER
DRACONIAN
MACABRE
BILBO BAGGINS
CATACLYSMIC
AFFIRMATION
POPULATION
SANCTIMONIOUS
BUTTERY SPREAD |
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| Ted Promo |
MORBID
DOOMBOT
CATHARSIS
EFFERVESCENT
CATACOMBS
PLACEBO
DERELICT
ZELDA
PFIZER
BENEDICTION
MALNUTRITION
DOOP-DOOP
JUICE BOX |
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