Underscore. Moving from lap to lap, minimalist quiet & linear. ...Underscore. Moving from lap to lap, minimalist quiet & linear. Percussion, guitar, electronics & harp.
Underscore / repetitive music. Moving from lap to lap, quiet & ...Underscore / repetitive music. Moving from lap to lap, quiet & linear. Clarinet, percussion, guitar, electronics & harp.
Music for images of abandoned, unpopulated cities and places; nature ...Music for images of abandoned, unpopulated cities and places; nature reclaimed its space: with electric guitar and exotic bass.
Music for images of abandoned, unpopulated cities and places; nature ...Music for images of abandoned, unpopulated cities and places; nature reclaimed its space: with electric guitar and exotic bass.
Parole ... Spoken word. Poetic & wandering. Spoken male voice & electronics. ...Spoken word. Poetic & wandering. Spoken male voice & electronics. Rhythm @ 1'53.
I'm plugged into a sound from a thousand years agoAnd I'm taking notes between the tokes. Yeah.I'm plugged in but I'm turned offI'm holding the phone but it's inside out.And the tambourine was burned in a TangineWhile the chorus sang...Inch' Allah... I'm plugged into the wind and the birdsThe wind on the trees and the wind on the sandI can't see it, but I can feel it, with my hand.I'm plugged into the bluebeen wearing the same choes for a season or twowhile the poets slip papers under my door.I'm plugged into my head-I'm plugged into my bedFeel the graffiti moving through my mind. Fumes and mappings that have survived the overtime.My sound is plugged into the ground and the wires were dipped in gold.If you can't hear this you so far awaybut one of the poets spoke to me to sayI'm plugged into the mainline - she kicked it over to me sidewaysI'm plugged into my mouseslips me into the E-searchMotor Base - Motor Base - Motor Base. I'm plugged into the credit cardburned lots of bits of paper and incenserecord in realtime at twenty cents a dime.Fill in the zeros with ticks and crosses.When I cross the streetI don't know...the bosses....the bosses.I'm plugged into Stock Marketswatch the fluctuations drawing lines in my mind. Tsunamis replace the TornadosIcebergs make bookends on the shelf.Inch' Allah... Inch' Allah!!! I'm plugged into the dub frequenciesThat flow out of large black boxes on the floor.The rythms come out of the carpet with the contact mikes - and it's ready for the Elephant's roar. I'm plugged into the fragmentsglimmering in the middle of the nightThat of my Sister Ray broken upuse a broom use a spoon.I'm plugged into the agitationI take taxi's and don't have a carFour dirham a rideand I've got the Drâaoui by my side.I'm plugged into the dreamy rhythmLike a rip-appart heart-attackI'm plugged into the Super StonedRhythms and Narko's crack. Inch' Allah ! I'm plugged into the QuinineTouareg feedback that energizes the scorpion.I fly to the No Flow with the automatic GO-GOSee the river walk, with the flow. I'm plugged into the nicotinethe stains across my chestI'm plugged into the braInside the woman's breast.I'm plugged into the Warholcause he isn't really dead.I'm plugged into the signsof the Temple in my head.I'm plugged in and I'm programmedprogrammed to explodeThere are no loose endsThat will never be explored.I need a month in the desert with four bottles of water.Be a Nomad in the nomadilisation.Nomadilisation - Nomadilisation. Inch' Allah !!!
