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Island Music

“27th day. Have rested and am moving south. All is well. Kerans.”

So he left the lagoon and entered the jungle again, within a few days was completely lost, following the lagoons southward through the increasing rain and heat, attacked by alligators and giant bats, a second Adam searching for the forgotten paradises of the reborn sun.

J.G. Ballard, The Drowned World (1962).

1. Mandre – Isle de Joie
– Mandre4 (1982)
2. Marcos Valle – Fogo Del Sol
– Marcos Valle (1983)
3. Ethel Beatty – It’s Your Love
– I Know You Care (12″) (1981)
4. Eliza Waut – Russia
– Eliza Waut (1985)
5. Kraftwerk – Ananas Symphonie
– Ralf & Florian (1973)
6. Nite Jewel – Falling Far
– Am I Real? (Ep) (2010)
7. Sun Palace – Rude Movements
– (12″) (1983)

It’s turning to summer in Melbourne, but a summer plagued by long periods of rain, flooding, and humidity. The nights are disturbed by noisy insects, and the sun sets late and rises early. I’ve been playing with a old drum machine from the early 70s, and the tinny ‘rumba’ and ‘bossanova’ beats it spits out provide a rhythmic backdrop to these sunny soul/disco/exotica songs. Nite Jewel is worth a mention here, effortlessly making music that complements an otherwise 80s dominated playlist.

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Category: Electronica, Exotica, Pop

Phosphene

Photo: Platonov Pavel.

The time and place and manner of my death are three facts that don’t exist yet.
Facts exist for whole centuries and then suddenly cease.
Pluto used to be a planet and now it is a chunk of debris, number 1341340.
My grandmother’s house stands on the hill above the sea where she left it.
When I come back to visit I discover a crater in its place.
This room is full of facts.
All day I let the cat out, let it in, then let it back out again.
I mean this metaphorically.
Some facts never exist.
It is winter. It is summer.
All night the branches tap at the glass.
- Trans-Neptunian Object by Suzanne Buffam.

“El infierno de la calle, en Placeres, tenía sus trastiendas, sus hornos con boca a la luz. El aire de los hornos sofocaba hasta la muerte el alma; sabía a lodo seco. De ese lado del fuego, el aire, en cuanto tocaba el cuerpo, costras, camisa ingrata. La luz y la sombra, abismos afuera, adentro, por oficios del bochornoso, se habían amistado en una sola neblina, parto de una llama. De los rincones del horno, desde la raíz del humo, venía el tufo del polvo devorado por el incendio de los veranos. ”
-Los Músicos y el Fuego de Jesús Gardea.

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Category: Rock

With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample an empire down. [1]


Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end! `I wonder how many miles I've fallen by this time?' she said aloud. `I must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four thousand miles down, I think--' (for, you see, Alice had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not a very good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over) `--yes, that's about the right distance--but then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I've got to?' (Alice had no idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say.) [2]



O long-silent Sybil,
you of the winged dreams,
Speak out from your temple of light
as the serious constellations
with Greek names
still stare down on us
as a lighthouse moves its megaphone
over the sea
Speak out and shine upon us
the sea-light of Greece
the diamond light of Greece

Far-seeing Sybil, forever hidden,
Come out of your cave at last
And speak to us in the poet's voice
the voice of the fourth person singular
the voice of the inscrutable future
the voice of the people mixed
with a wild soft laughter--
And give us new dreams to dream,
Give us new myths to live by! [3]


So our princes who have lost their principalities after many years’ of possession shouldn’t blame their loss on fortuna. The real culprit is their own indolence, going through quiet times with no thought of the possibility of change (it’s a common human fault, failing to prepare for tempests unless one is actually in one!). And when eventually bad times did come, they thought of •flight rather than •self-defence, hoping that the people, upset by conquerors’ insolence, would recall them. This course of action may be all right when there’s no alternative, but it is not all right to neglect alternatives and choose this one; it amounts to voluntarily falling because you think that in due course someone will pick you up. If you do get rescued (and you probably won’t), that won’t make you secure; the only rescue that is really helpful to you is the one performed by you, the one that depends on yourself and your virtù. [4]