The Joys and Enigmas of a Strange Hour
(de Chirico 3D bootleg)
Thrupence // Don’t You Mind
I think if it weren’t for Thrupence, my first acid trip would have been terrible.
The Australian producer’s organic beats have been with me for a long time. I first spun his first EP, Voyages, on my way to the Gramercy Post Office to get my passport. His work has always contained a powdery mixture of melancholy nostalgia, aquatic textures, and blooming synths. His new remix of Son House’s blues classic “Grinnin’ In Your Face” takes his style to an entirely new place, but it does not feel altogether unfamiliar. It’s a lilting hip-hop piece built equally for the quick pace of your feet on the sidewalk and chill pow-wows with close chums.
I always took this song as a warning against fake, overly enthusiastic or friendly people. Maybe that just shows how little trust we had then, that a grinning stranger was something you instinctually meant to mind. But we don’t have to play the game that way anymore. The House prophecy was never so cryptic. Don’t run away.
(Rhythm #4: Crinkling)
(Rhythm #3: Puncture)
Original full-rez: (https://www.dropbox.com/s/egn2s2ben5lya4d/fuzzball.gif?dl=0)
LUCIANBLOMKAMP // Help Me Out
You are so much more than you’ve chosen to be. You are beautiful, you are wise, you are indefinite. For this long I’ve let my fears keep me from being great. You’ve kept yourself from being great. But all you need is a push, a knuckle to the small of your back, an embrace, a limp apology, a leak, a shove.
'Help Me Out' is the first single from Australian downtempo producer LUCIANBLOMKAMP's debut LP, 'Post-Nature.' The track evolves from a soulful lament to the release of pulsating house chords and dry claps before transitioning again to a waxy alto sax solo. It is both a cry for help and a signal that the past is just that: time wasted, a wave carrying fear and darkness and the pain of knowledge away. It leaves you clean, it leaves you pure. It's a night drive through your cranium, caught up in nothing at all.
Thoughts on the evening of becoming an adult in the eyes of the state
I wish I could come down from some mountain
Or climb out of some window
Or hop some low fence
And see you lying there,
With one knee bent and a finger to your temple,
In the way that made me glad that you were happy,
And sad that you were supple,
And believe that singularity could exist again
And it was there
In my arms
But your greatest feat was in denying me that simplicity,
Of identifying the final and infinite point of knowing something which could
And in that,
I know now that the only key to love, hate, ambition, and destruction
Is that forced patience
Which I hope I’m ready to give.