A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 10)

—       __                –   ————-______________

_           _________________   _  ___   _ _________ __________

Directly from the sewer at the center of this cacophony comes crawling the next number, “Our Seventh Sister (Ceremony of The Empty Space).”

It advances with a weave of rusty mandolin, banjos fingerpicked and teased out from a central processing unit. The bass squirms about the mulch of bucket drums, simulating the moist thump-thump-thump of an excited heartbeat. Architecturally compact guitars hack forward like hatchets through the foliage of factory handclaps and a thicket of battered cymbals. Sometimes they burst with succinct solos: vivid squiggles like the last of acrylic paint squeezed from a rolled up aluminum tube. They then oh-so-briefly bivouac and recoup with a strum and chime before they’re back out to their chop and hew.

With ludicrous bark and bite added to the singer’s dulcet voice, the lyrics pour and plod ahead like a mule with a syncopated beat—whip-driven through citrus peels boiled in sugar and hot ash. He sounds like a tourist demented with delight at the novelty of it all. The whole production is a buzz of gusto before the song swoons down to mud-churning violins for its farewell lines, which the listener hits as if an epitaph on a tombstone.

Followed a trail of black flags littered across the barren white.

As I entered town, searched my pockets for my zippo lighter.

.

I’ve got thirty-three leaves and forty grams of fresh tobacco;

Tips of my thumb and middle finger are stained dark yellow ochre.

.

Nicotine resin from smoke!

                                      Or,

Smoke from nicotine resin!

.

I gave a greeting to the big black nothing with a small nod,

My gut felt like mosquito larvae in an acrid puddle.

I took me a slumber outside The House of Chosen Women,

Where merchants trade slaves for tourmaline beads under the banyan tree.

Took me a slumber beneath the banyan tree,

Yes I,

Took me a slumber beneath the banyan tree.

.

Slept to lullaby laments as black llamas keen with famine;

They’re tethered on Main Street—dry throats beg for October raindrops.

.

When I awoke!,

When I awoke!,

Awoke to a wet-sand tongue rubbing the stubble on my cheek;

When I opened my eyes there standing was a little black dog.

.

Misery ships pulled into port, Ornament Men home from war;

In the furnace they burned textiles in effigy or worship.

.

South, rot and lust choked their brains; in the West they slept with slaughter;

East, madness chewed roots; now they lament their seventh sister, gone.

.

The Ornament Men ring-danced and lollopped in the House of Knives;

Costumes of Tanager feathers, dead reptiles, which their wives made.

Swinging semaphore genitals pierced with ore, no one saw me,

As they all performed this ceremony of the empty space—

.

Spinning, spirals, territory spheres and stairs, jaguars and rain,

Pain comes, goes, behind walls of adobe, powdered quartz, pain laughs.

.

The little black dog loped down a narrow path flanked by fruit trees,

I pursued, left this harbor to its fevers, piety games.

.

I followed that black dog through those old fruit trees,

Yes I!,

I followed that black dog through those old fruit trees.

                                                                        …      …        …

Some men search for the Holy Grail, or,

Others, the Holy Ghost,

But most men are only lookin’ for

Some butter on their toast

.

I never learned the odds,

I never learned to gamble,

Still I followed my God

And that little black dog down—

Down that long, long black trail.

___         _        _________________       _         _________________    ————-______

dendrites cvr 10

_______________________________   ——  —  ——–  _______________ –  __

 —  –   ————-______________

——————————-(Click to Listen or Right-Click-Save-As to Download)—————–================___^_===================  ===  _ ===== == =    ==    =   __ – _

Something’s Gone Awry – Alela Diane [photo by Jaclyn Campanaro]

Peace Frog/Newborn Awakening – The Doors [photographed in New York City by LIFE‘s Yale Joel in 1968]

Re-Make/Re-Model – Roxy Music [cover model Kari-Ann Muller photographed by Karl Stoecker ,1972]

Hybrid Moments – The Misfits

T.V. Eye – The Stooges

Watching T.V. (Daytrotter version 8/31/2010) – The Beets

Religion I/Public Image – Public Image Ltd.

Ducking And Dodging – Parquet Courts

Ice Age – How To Destroy Angels

The Four Of Us Are Dying – Nine Inch Nails

Mr Raffles/It Wasn’t Me – Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel

Ladytron – The Venus In Furs

El Show De Los Meurtos – Juan Wauters

She’s Got You – Rhiannon Giddens

Finally Back – Souls Of Mischief & Adrian Younge [Animated by Unjust” and “Paintings by Mildred Friedman,]

The Last Act – Adrian Younge

Dr-Octagon-Blue-Flowers-464649

Blue Flowers – Dr. Octagon (aka Kool Keith)

See No Evil – Television

Evil – Stevie Wonder

Can You Hear Me? – Elvis Costello & The Roots

We Have Been Metamorphosized– Jim Morrison (read by Johnny Depp)

(problem) – Eat the document Soundtrack

______________———-___=========^^^================================  __=

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 10)

  • Something’s Gone Awry – Alela Diane 
  • Peace Frog/Newborn Awakening – The Doors 
  • Re-Make/Re-Model – Roxy Music   
  • Hybrid Moments – The Misfits
  • T.V. Eye – The Stooges
  • Watching T.V. (Daytrotter version  8/31/2010) – The Beets
  • Religion I/Public Image – Public Image Ltd.
  • Ducking And Dodging – Parquet Courts
  • Ice Age – How To Destroy Angels
  • The Four Of Us Are Dying – Nine Inch Nails
  • Mr Raffles/It Wasn’t Me – Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel
  • Ladytron – The Venus In Furs (Thom Yorke, Jonny Greenwood, David Gray, Bernard Butler, Andy Mackay) (Roxy Music Cover)
  • El Show De Los Meurtos – Juan Wauters
  • She’s Got You – Rhiannon Giddens
  • Finally Back – Souls Of Mischief & Adrian Younge  
  • The Last Act  – Adrian Younge
  • Blue Flowers – Dr. Octagon (aka Kool Keith)
  • See No Evil – Television
  • Evil – Stevie Wonder
  • Can You Hear Me? – Elvis Costello & The Roots
  • We Have Been Metamorphosized– Jim Morrison (read by Johnny Depp)
  • (problem)  – Eat the document Soundtrack

_ _ _ __=========================================     ______BOBBY CALERO

If you dig the mix then please feel free to pass & post it along; if you dig a particular artist then please support them and go out and pick up some of their stuff.

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 9)

—  –   ————-______________

_           _________________   _  ___   _ _________ __________

Mireille was carried off through the siphon of her headphones by the maudlin tunes, prog rock, and panic attack psychedelia of the band Locust Mirror on their double LP, Empty Anodyne for The Learned Paralysis of Phantom Limbs (or just simply Phantom Limbs as it came to be called when discussed by fans and the press). Seemingly without thought she sunk into the lost-in-the-sauce lounge act that opens disc two of the album, “Now There’s Nothing So Savage As A Man Destroying Himself.” Despite the initial cabaret style of the song, it operates like burlesque in reverse. It begins with an exposed and solitary piano that adds garb as it sashays like a confused showgirl along its theatric course. Instead of feather boas and nipple tassels, however, it goes on to don a robe of sonic shrapnel that brings to one’s mind thoughts of silicon and dust mites.

The keys are fingered. At just over the two minute mark and with the arrival of what might well serve as an ersatz chorus (a wailed, “Repetition is true horror”), this song would finally acquire a rhythm section to usher it further into the froth and gauze swelling up on all sides. These knit accents and fills of bass and drums, however, come on as if composed of corroded rubber: it sure could still bounce like disco but seemed in peril of splitting open any moment now. Yet all these accouterments would have to wait to adhere to the ivory backbone of the tune until first the vocals set the melodic theme.

The emotive sphere of lead vocalist Christian Heath’s voice typically bows between something of a desperate caress seeking an empathic response, and an emphatic, stellar burst. Regardless of what side of that spectrum it leans on at any given time in any given tune, his voice seems to nearly always smear each lengthy line of the lyrics, so that they are made to meander through the arrangement as if a disembodied instrument. His voice is an intruding transmission that does not want to appear rude and so does its best to flit along. His voice is a virus that plays well with its host environment.

The results of this interplay were often as disorienting for the listener as a boat at sway, but they were frequently received as an honest thing of beauty as well. Here on this song this effect was heightened by the sporadic insertion of unintelligible chatter and laughter. Often Heath’s phrasing would tremble and stretch syllables on the verge of an exhausted falsetto that could gloss over the lack of a typical pop song’s requisite end rhyme:

I need more…

than these stillborn afternoons

of cotton entertainment

I need more…

than cartoons and iced-coffee

Grant me a marionette

I’ll dance like an idiot

under summer’s tight-throat heat

I need more…

than string theory documentaries

Give to me one dance partner

I need more…

than those oh-so elegant

collections, treats of chewed fat

I need more…

than mere adequate actors

adequate actors mewling

I need more…

than another erection

from cotton entertainment

I need more…

than a new American

American way of war

I need more…

than cartoons and iced-coffee

Grant me a marionette

I’ll dance like an idiot

under summer’s tight-throat heat

Everything,

Everything is terrible

No one, no one wants to dance

—Repetition is true horror—

I need more…

than pious stone or a blip,

a blip blister of pleasure

I need more…

than an awful suckle while

waiting for the day to do…

{…what it does}—

—Repetition is true horror—

I need more…

than these nerves like old butter

waiting for the day to do…

{…what it does}—

I need more…

than resurrected majesty

mad as hungry little birds,

birds that flutter in the brain,

But it certainly would do for a day or two…

{…what it does}—

—Repetition is true horror—

O How the neighbor coughs from his window

O and how the pigeons coo

How we wretch

And how are you?

—Curtains open—

—Bled like heaven—

—Curtains close—

Beauty and grotesques

once burst from the head,

…Now, there’s a sick!…pigeon!…trapped!…—

There’s a sick pigeon in my head!

Lungs toil—

Sunlight ripples on a rooftop puddle

Lungs toil—

Lungs—

Lungs toil—

—Repetition is true horror—

As it maneuvers along the rolling frame of its design the song doubles back on itself. It is as if the instruments turn to find a route out and only encounter another narrow corridor and its inevitable dead-end. In lithe panic they muster up enough muscle and sinew to shrug off their somnambulant groove and about face. In the slink of their retreat they bottleneck and pile up. The whole flourishes as an aggregate of anxiety.

Soon it has nowhere else to pitch its weight. Its only option is but to hop a straight flight into the warm Mellotron swarm that has been waiting all this time like the welcoming jowls of a wolf on the other side of the door. From this arrives the square wave monologue, as if through a chewed radio:

  • […and you can’t afford another sort of paradise on this salary]
  • [No one is saying anything out there anyway]
  • [Who has been burning photographs and painting walls?]
  • [Wall-sickness and a trapped nerve]
  • [Venom in a tooth and perpetual machines hum]
  • [No one is out there saying anything anyway]
  • [Problems]
  • [Dry]
  • [Curse disease and then ease back into waste;]
  • [All while drinking iced-coffee and watching cartoons concerning our elegant universe]
  • [Wet]
  • [There’s so little love left]
  • [I love drifting off to sleep while watching television]
  • [Parasite fragments]…[I suppose that…]
  • [There’s nothing coming]
  • [And there’s nothing we can do about it]
  • [Somebody throw the baby out with the bathos]
  • [Who will wind the pocket-clocks when I’m gone?]
  • [And who will break the ice?]
  • […SOMEBODY GO GET ME THE AXE…]

Gelignite guitars detonate. It all goes up in a mushroom cloud of Moog synthesizers and found sounds. Both the circulatory and nervous systems of the song are reduced to slag and reverb circling a drain.

___                 _________________       _         _________________

dendrites 9 CVR

_______________________________   ——  —  ——–  _______________ –  __

 —  –   ————-______________
——————————-(Click to Listen or Right-Click-Save-As to Download)—————–================____===================  ===  _ ===== == =    ==    =   __ – _

Victory On The Hill – Rivers Cuomo

The Forest Awakes – David Byrne & St. Vincent

Obsequey [The Death Of Art] – Marilyn Manson [image by Gottfried Helnwein]

Whipped Cream – Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass

Thieves In The Night – Black Star

Dynamite! – The Roots

Come Around – M.I.A. (ft. Timbaland)

Sita Ram – Alice Coltrane

Strange Religion – Mark Lanegan Band (ft. Izzy Stradlin & Duff McKagan) [art by Justin Hampton]

Wildfire – John Mayer (ft. Frank Ocean)

A Place With No Name – Michael Jackson

I’m A Fool To Want You – Billie Holiday [photo by Dennis Stock, 1958]

If You See Her, Say Hello – Jeff Buckley (Dylan cover; Grace sessions outtake, 1993) [photo by Merri Cyr]

Finish What I Started – Will Butler

Alligator – Paul McCartney [painting: Bowie spewing by Paul McCartney, 1990]

Do The Tramp – The Fever [painting: Exploration of the Sources of the Orinoco River by Remedios Varo, 1959]

We Could Be So Good Together – The Doors

Strollin’ In – Lou Donaldson

Boogie Woogie Woman – B.B. King

Un Buen Día Para Morir – Calle 13 (ft. Vernon Foster)

______________———-___=========================================  __=

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 9)

  • Victory On The Hill – Rivers Cuomo
  • The Forest Awakes – David Byrne & St. Vincent
  • Obsequey [The Death Of Art] – Marilyn Manson 
  • Whipped Cream – Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass
  • Thieves In The Night – Black Star (Mos Def & Talib Kweli)
  • Dynamite! – The Roots
  • Come Around – M.I.A. (ft. Timbaland)
  • Sita Ram – Alice Coltrane
  • Strange Religion – Mark Lanegan Band (ft. Izzy Stradlin & Duff McKagan)
  • Wildfire – John Mayer (ft. Frank Ocean)
  • A Place With No Name – Michael Jackson (AMOP mix)
  • I’m A Fool To Want You – Billie Holiday
  • If You See Her, Say Hello – Jeff Buckley (Dylan cover; Grace sessions outtake, 1993) 
  • Finish What I Started – Will Butler
  • Alligator – Paul McCartney
  • Do The Tramp – The Fever
  • We Could Be So Good Together – The Doors
  • Strollin’ In – Lou Donaldson
  • Boogie Woogie Woman – B.B. King
  • Un Buen Día Para Morir – Calle 13 (ft. Vernon Foster)

_ _ _ __=========================================     ______BOBBY CALERO

If you dig the mix then please feel free to pass & post it along; if you dig a particular artist then please support them and go out and pick up some of their albums.

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 8)

http://investinlibraries.org/

_________________           _           _________________   _  ___

When a frustrated teenager, Mireille herself flirted with atheism. Or was it agnosticism? She couldn’t recall now what proud label she might have boasted of back then if she weren’t always so shy. In a series of sudden increments and entanglements with the outside, young Mireille had come to a form of realization that she could at the time encapsulate in the phrase “this world is bullshit!”

With so many angles at which to aim angst, that dour fury for a deceitful world presented to her daily would first find it’s big target with both the concept of God and how sanction houses implemented that concept upon us. As time went on, however, Mireille’s perception of “bullshit” refined. Yes, she came to realize, it was all that, in the sense that the bulk of our world was made up. Yet, she couldn’t say that it wasn’t “real.” She felt it. Everday.

So, if it all was real and likewise made up: “well then what does that say about the nature of reality?” she had questioned; “well then what does that say about me?” Does existence possess a complex geometry where opposed sides fold simply to be true and false simultaneously; where one should negate the other and thus both but don’t and in fact supports them together and perhaps much more? Like many teens she started to harbor these suspicions, but without the luxury of much of a lexicon to crowd them into shape, into an ethos—and so there was: this world is bullshit! Mireille began to feel that The World was nothing but ideas made manifest; condensed into a solid; a tangible vibration; a consequence of narratives; a frequency captured by the little shell of the ear; the collection of light by the adjustable assembly of lenses, tunics, apertures that is the eye; and all those other instruments; implemented in systems we’re born in and learn to inhabit…like currency for example…or race. As time went on, however, she came to realize that she could appositely replace the word “implemented” with that of “manipulated.”

At the age of seventeen she had spent the majority of one particular November afternoon at her local public library working on a report for school that pertained to the causes and outcomes of The Cold War. Seated at a laminate table crowded with splayed textbooks and a marble notebook, she fell away from the task at hand. After hours of study and note jotting she had grown bored by the “death strip” of the Berlin Wall, bored of dead Kennedy, bored of Premier Khrushchev, bored of primate-patriarch Reagan, and bored even by chants of “Tor auf!” (“Open the gate!”). The focus of her vision blurred towards the white between the printed words before her.

_______________________        -_-      _________________       _         _________________

Dendrites 8 CVR

_______________________________   ——  —  ——–  _______________ –  __

 

——————————-(Click to Listen or Right-Click-Save-As to Download)—————–

================____===================  ===  _ ===== == =    ==    =   __ – _

Another Part of You/Panic Struck – Souls Of Mischief & Adrian Younge

Boxcar – Jawbreaker

Black Ballerina – Ariel Pink [image by Леонид Калядин]

Little Ballerina/Ballerina’s Reprise – Emile Haynie (ft. Rufus Wainwright, Father John Misty, & Julia Holter)

Gold – Mikal Cronin [photo by Ward Robinson]

Hot Hot HotMatthew E. White

Windows – Deafheaven

God Knows Why – Nneka (ft. Black Thought)

Things That Are Bad For Me (Pt. I & II) – Colleen Green

Be Sweet – The Afghan Whigs

It Is What It Is – Blood Orange

Find Your Wings – Tyler, The Creator

Death Of A Party – Blur

Fkn Dead/Never Catch Me – Flying Lotus (ft. Kendrick Lamar) [image by Hiro Murai]

Shattered Winds – The Budos Band

Both Alive – Tall Tales And The Silver Lining

Last Year – Best Coast

How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore – (♀)

______________———-___=========================================  __=

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 8)

  • Another Part of You/Panic Struck – Souls Of Mischief & Adrian Younge
  • Boxcar – Jawbreaker
  • Black Ballerina – Ariel Pink 
  • Little Ballerina/Ballerina’s Reprise – Emile Haynie (ft. Rufus Wainwright, Father John Misty, & Julia Holter)
  • Gold – Mikal Cronin
  • Hot Hot Hot – Matthew E. White
  • Windows – Deafheaven
  • God Knows Why – Nneka (ft. Black Thought)
  • Things That Are Bad For Me (Pt. I & II) – Colleen Green
  • Be Sweet – The Afghan Whigs
  • It Is What It Is – Blood Orange
  • Find Your Wings – Tyler, The Creator
  • Death Of A Party – Blur
  • Fkn Dead/Never Catch Me – Flying Lotus (ft. Kendrick Lamar)
  • Shattered Winds – The Budos Band
  • Both Alive – Tall Tales And The Silver Lining
  • Last Year – Best Coast
  • How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore – (♀)

_ _ _ __=========================================     ______BOBBY CALERO

If you dig the mix then please feel free to pass & post it along; if you dig a particular artist then please support them and go out and pick up some of their albums.

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 7)

_ _____________________       _   _  _________________       _       _________________   _

It was not avoidance of some problem that she was advocating, but only a proper approach and perspective: understanding what truly was a problem and what was not. Where and when it could be found, she was for the compassion of laughter. Mireille pondered over the predominate perpetrators of violence on this planet and wondered if the males’ faculty for a certain aspect of acceptance had been frustrated and underdeveloped. Perhaps “acceptance” wasn’t the word she wanted, for enough of them seemed to be in love with a fallen world. No, maybe it was “reception,” or “tolerance,” or some other such word having to do with communication?

She couldn’t find it then but regardless questioned, “why not then let these thoughts inform and foster some work of art: a painting; song; or stand-up routine? At the very least they should let us laugh as they pass on by.” She believed that too few artists are encouraged in our world, and their work too quickly inspected for external utility or market potential. Comedians are poked to placate our revulsion. Our role as creator is repressed and in its stead we labor over cruel acts. “It’s like we’re prohibited from changing anything, really.” Beholden to a moribund heritage, we suffer in the name of habit and being consistent; “…being practical…but…practical for whose protocol? Don’t ask, you’ll suffer more.” We suffer for order.

For order we suffer.

“We are held hostage in someone else’s head…and in the end…and in our own. Regret will only get you ugly in the end.”

        She considered the device currently slipped within a little zippered pocket inside her purse: plastic, glass, semiconductor chips of silicon, and rare earth minerals molded and arranged into a slim rectangle of circuit boards and a touchscreen with a friendly graphic user interface…”a friendly gooey.” Contemplating all it was capable of—all of its known, numerous applications, the ones she hasn’t figured out yet and the ones she didn’t care to—she asked herself:

“We’re already living in the future…aren’t we? …Or as far as this future is gonna go, really. From here-on-out and for awhile now it’s all just restatements of a theme. Sure with a few innovative variations and tempo changes thrown in to keep us back-slap-smiling, ‘gee–whiz, how neat, this cutting-edge changes everything! Science will save us!’ But, shouldn’t we be somewhere else. Shouldn’t we be building biodegradable citadels for music, poetry, or, hell, a cathedral for aromatherapy…anything else really? All I see is thinner televisions. All I see are more heads bowed towards screens.

“Geez-Louise, I sound like an old lady…’back in my day we didn’t have all these fancy smellular phones and wifi-telebones, we had to use a drum!’…but…Shouldn’t we be busy with some other great work by this point? Why do we all feel excused from this? Why are so many of us excluded from this?

“Didn’t they tell us so long ago that we’ll be taking it easy from here-on-out? Aren’t they still selling that line?” For far too long now we’ve been trapped in this false landscape of muscles and dollars, this unsustainable sham of a one-way line stretched unhindered towards infinite and plastic futures—attributed to Darwin, healthy competition, and hard-earned progress. “Everything always backed by Darwin.” All those that suffer or benefit from the drought and locusts of a debt market so that a ham and cheese sandwich wrapped in cellophane might exist on some chain-restaurant’s theme-park counter could always seek solace, dismissal, and script in the arms of Saint Darwin. She felt sad for all those slighted people with Holy Daddy and/or Holy Mommy issues: who smugly announce themselves as atheists; who declare with a moral superior air, “I believe in science.”

“Yeah…well who doesn’t?”

_ _____________________                        _________________            _________________   _

Dendrites 7 CVR

-_______________________________   ——  —  ——–  _______________ –  __

 

——————————-(Click to Listen or Download)—————–

================____====  \^/  ============  ===  _ ===== == =    ==    =   __ – _>

Zeno’s Law Of High-Heeled Shoes – Jim Carroll

Numbers – FKA Twigs

Rich – Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Forty Days & Forty Nights – Muddy Waters

Every Season – Tony Allen (ft. Damon Albarn & Ty)

Wonderwall To Be Here – George Harrison

Lost In The Woods – The Afghan Whigs

The One-Eye Two-Step – The Blackbyrds

Me And The Devil – Gil Scott-Heron (Robert Johnson cover)

The Water – BLKHRTS

Misbehave/She Might Get Shot – Juan Wauters

Cocaine Habit Blues – Memphis Jug Band featuring Hattie Hart [Art by: Robert Crumb]

Yassassin (Long Live) – David Bowie

Ysabel’s Table Dance – Charles Mingus

Black Skin Blue Eyed Boys – Equals

Breed – Nirvana

She Said She Said – The Beatles

When Your Number Isn’t Up – Mark Lanegan Band

Good God’s:// Urge! – Porno For Pyros

I Know We Could Be So Happy Baby (If We Wanted to Be) – Jeff Buckley (TheSpaceBubbles mix)

Farewell, Angelina – Bob Dylan (Bringing it All Back Home outtake) [photo by Jerry Schatzberg]

Niña – Eduardo Mateo [photo by Francesca Woodman]

My translation, feel free to comment if youv’e got a better one:

Little girl that always has a light
showing you what you do not want.

Do not fear the birds
if they say your life with their trills.

It should be that you understand;
that’s why what comes next is what has gone.

Always in a white dress,
you go but beware;

The devils in the guise of angels
will notice you talking.

Does it shame you that you don’t care
what has been soiled?

Yuu…yu-le-lé yu-lé.

….===================================  ======== == =    ==    =    = – __

_ _ _ __=========================================     ______
A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 7)
  • Zeno’s Law Of High-Heeled Shoes – Jim Carroll
  • Numbers – FKA Twigs
  • Rich – Yeah Yeah Yeahs
  • Forty Days & Forty Nights – Muddy Waters
  • Every Season – Tony Allen (ft. Damon Albarn & Ty)
  • Wonderwall To Be Here – George Harrison
  • Lost In The Woods – The Afghan Whigs
  • The One-Eye Two-Step – The Blackbyrds
  • Me And The Devil – Gil Scott-Heron (Robert Johnson cover)
  • The Water – BLKHRTS
  • Misbehave/She Might Get Shot – Juan Wauters
  • Cocaine Habit Blues – Memphis Jug Band featuring Hattie Hart
  • Yassassin (Long Live) – David Bowie
  • Ysabel’s Table Dance – Charles Mingus
  • Black Skin Blue Eyed Boys – Equals
  • Breed – Nirvana
  • She Said She Said – The Beatles
  • When Your Number Isn’t Up – Mark Lanegan Band
  • Good God’s:// Urge! – Porno For Pyros
  • I Know We Could Be So Happy Baby (If We Wanted to Be) – Jeff Buckley (TheSpaceBubbles mix)
  • Farewell, Angelina – Bob Dylan (Bringing it All Back Home outtake)
  • Niña – Eduardo Mateo

_ _ _ __=========================================     ______BOBBY CALERO

If you dig the mix then please feel free to pass & post it along; if you dig a particular artist then please support them and go out and pick up some of their albums.

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 6)

_________________           _           _________________   _  ___

Mireille supposed that combustible conditions like morals and mental illness for the most part only really came into play in a somewhat more physical state than the wet realm from where thought descends. Even if not likewise accepted within that shoddy, communal rabbit-hutch that is the narrative known as normal, she felt that it was still perfectly acceptable to have any and every variegated notion percolate up through the porous mesh within our heads. Sure, in our world it would naturally follow that we’d feel the need for those whims to fall for us somewhere along that long, long, long circumference we’ve constructed between sacred and profane. Yet, “All thoughts are okay,” she told herself.

(As just some examples pulled from an infinite list of random mundanities that might drift towards focus, albeit these admittedly being somewhat odder fare than “I wonder what gender my first born will be,” or “Did they like the cut and color of that shirt I wore to the party last night”) if one took note that they had just moments ago been dreamily pondering a plan to commit murder; or discovered themselves in a strange reverie involving themselves engaged in an ogre-like gobble of an infant in a sandwich; or if one was considering what it would be like to have eyes on their genitalia, like a butterfly; or what it would be like to slit one’s wrists open with a razor; or if they’re struck with the thought to stick their tongue into the mouth of that old drunk who lived next door: well, “that’s just fine.” To place this into the more commonly known compartments proposed by Freud—if one were found in wonder over what it’d be like to stab one’s own mother and fuck one’s own father (or vice-versa of course, depending on gender and preference), well, it’s just fine. It’s only when these thoughts are allowed weight to fret within your head, Mireille believed, that they become something awesome: inspiring an overwhelming feeling of both reverence and fear.

Developing into a worry, there this whimsy-made-object-this-object-made-foreign will sit and calcify into a malignant stone that scrapes our interior. Yes, a stone, like that of Sisyphus and his diurnal burden: something to be dealt with daily. Worse, they’d metastasize out into other tunnels, such as language and action.

“I guess what I mean to say,” she thought, “…it’s only when they become a concern that they become a concern….”

       Obsession is the engine that furrows the brow and makes us sick. Worry invites what were once riffs of little-nothings and inconsequential quirks of Homo sapiens sapiens’ cognitive arrangement to linger too long in the house of mirrors that we sometimes see as introspective consciousness. Under an awkward lens they develop deep taproots, wicked and invasive to your core. Even if you were to pinch its bitter blossom-head from the stem, even if you were to yank the stem free—there below the sod the thing remains and sprouts anew. Soon to sour into a desire to be fed, or a target for contempt—at best you’re left to keep vigil and be at-ready to denounce it.

Get thee to a nunnery, go.

or

Get thee behind me, Satan.

       Perpetually in a procedure of amputation, your hobbled heart and mind prepares a palace for these hobgoblins and nourishes them with the slough left after self-recrimination: for is not anxiety its own form of adoration? It’s awful enough we feel compelled to contort and comport ourselves at-large to some temporal point of view, but to play truncheon-twirling policeman before some internal mirror was just too much. Why warp your imagination into the wraith that haunts the head, or worse, the revenant that escorts the hand? No, it was best to let the currents own these thoughts, buoy them about for your observation before they were tossed off with a chuckle. Otherwise these nothings could bludgeon and knife our lives while we curse them as fate.

_ -_-   _______________________                 _________________       _         _________________

Dendrites CVR 6

_______________________________   ——  —  ——–  _______________ –  __

 

——————————-(Click to Listen or Download)—————–

================____===================  ===  _ ===== == =    ==    =   __ – _

Used 2 Own U – crush_DLX (Pop Levi & Bunny Holiday)

Lay Lady Lay – David T. Walker

Agitation – Erykah Badu

Afro Blue/Black Radio – Robert Glasper Experiment (ft. Erykah Badu & Yasiin Bey [Mos Def])

Suite II Overture/Dance Or Die/Faster/Locked Inside – Janelle Monáe (ft.. Saul Williams)

Girls On Saturn – Saul Williams

Real Thing – tUnE-yArDs

Price Tag – Sleater-Kinney

At Night, True Love/ The Count – San Fermin

Accidental Tourist (a white Huayno melody) – Elvis Perkins

The Fat Angel – Donovan

Eye of the Pearl – Quilt

Therapy – Mary J. Blige

Someday My Prince Will Come – Miles Davis

I Can't See Your Face In My Mind - The Doors

I Can’t See Your Face In My Mind – The Doors

The-Jim-Carroll-Band-I-Write-Your-Name-216827

Dance The Night Away – Jim Carroll Band

Don’t Watch Me Dancing – Little Joy [art by Flavio de Paula]

Three Consorts Of Dracula – Philip Glass & Kronos Quartet

______________———-___=========================================  __=

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 6)

  • Used 2 Own U – crush_DLX (Pop Levi & Bunny Holiday)
  • Lay Lady Lay – David T. Walker
  • Agitation – Erykah Badu
  • Afro Blue/Black Radio – Robert Glasper Experiment (ft. Erykah Badu & Yasiin Bey [Mos Def])
  • Suite II Overture/Dance Or Die/Faster/Locked Inside – Janelle Monáe (ft.. Saul Williams)
  • Girls On Saturn –  Saul Williams
  • Real Thing – tUnE-yArDs
  • Price Tag – Sleater-Kinney
  • At Night, True Love/ The Count – San Fermin
  • Accidental Tourist (a white Huayno melody) – Elvis Perkins
  • The Fat Angel – Donovan
  • Eye of the Pearl – Quilt
  • Therapy – Mary J. Blige
  • Someday My Prince Will Come – Miles Davis
  • I Can’t See Your Face In My Mind – The Doors
  • Dance The Night Away – Jim Carroll Band
  • Don’t Watch Me Dancing – Little Joy
  • Three Consorts Of Dracula – Philip Glass & Kronos Quartet 

_ _ _ __=========================================     ______BOBBY CALERO

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 5)

_____________________       _        _________________                      _________________   _

WITH A SWIVEL and jut she shifted from leg to leg. The sway to her broad hips was suggestive of the pendulum motion to a slow bell—back-and-forth—albeit with an inaudible knell. The pale yellow fabric of her knee-length skirt would pull taut against the thick of each thigh as she placed her weight on them. Back-and-forth.

What must’ve been a particularly lascivious breeze tumbled through; scattering some dead leaves of brown and yellow ochre about the coarse surface of the redbrick paved path with a faint, slithering rattle—hsstsstsss. It paused briefly before fingering lightly at the hem of her skirt. Not yet satisfied, this stray zephyr swelled to send the back-end of the butter-colored fabric leisurely lilting upwards, exposing the two pink hemispheres of her plump ass snug in sheer white nylon with lace trim. The balloon of her skirt fell, coming to rest still as she smoothed it out with her palms against the supple pale flesh at the back of her knees. This peepshow was brief and went unnoticed by all but the wind.

Mireille* shifted once more to readjust the weight of the black case strapped to her back, which was designed to contain the component mouthpiece, piston valves, bent tubing, and flared bell of a brass instrument: in this case a trumpet. A flock of thin women were approaching while absorbed in an exaggerated flutter of laughter. With their gaunt aesthetics of wanton sinew and lanky bones; tapered ribcages topped with cushion breasts, pushed up and pressed together; some with narrow skirts that clasped at hips below protruding ilac crests; some with slender legs bound in Lycra tights that descended into the fleece interiors of chunky sheepskin boots; or, others with jean shorts of skimpy dimensions, mechanically scissor-cut with rough precision in the factory, and pantyhose-clad twigs concluding with a glissade into awkward angles of stiletto heels; all with long acrylic fingernails slightly curled, like talons of raptors; all with faces painted bright and sharp with a slather of orange-tinged foundation and metallic cosmetics encircling the eyes, from which long lashes coil; all with eyebrows tweezed fine as razors: they resembled avian descendants not yet too far removed from the Cretaceous period. The little behind they did posses was achieved through spines distorted by the height of heels.

An acquaintance of hers, Chuck, would refer to women of this appearance as “the-dick-&-diet-crowd,” as that is what he believed the preoccupations of their waking hours consisted of. Accompanied by a little puff exhaled from the nostrils, Mireille’s lips curled to a smirk at the remembrance of this amusing designation. With continual, but furtive tugs, yanks, and pulls inserted between every other move they made, the girls would clutch at the hems of their garments to either prevent them from a revealing ride up their little hips and thighs, or to remove an uncomfortable wedge of blue denim. One young woman who resembled nothing more than a chicken bone in boots daubed with flesh-colored greasepaint was addressing the rest while employing the lip-bumbling honey and loose-jowled lift of an infant’s voice: “I-know-but, oh my gawd, you have just gotta get The Black Box! More than that but, every man should be like forced to read it to find out just what women really want, yah know? Oh, and the sequel, Once You Go Black Box—it’s just so, ouough, so steamy! I-know-but…”

“I dunno Alexa,” another cut her off with a twirl of her skinny fingers, “sounds gross.” This one, who had so little meat to distinguish her face from the skull beneath, seemed unable to communicate if slight ticks of the neck did not accompany her words. Her mouth congealed into a sour pout that was carried about on a disapproving nod. Then she added, “weird.”

This gaggle of fashionable theropods went by with click-clack footsteps upon the brick road that wound through the scattered trees on the far-end of the college campus. Their choir cackles and shouts of “Oh my god, I knooow!” dissipated into the autumn-adorned branches of oak trees as well as the occasional green conifer. It took Mireille quite some time to train her mind to abstain from a mechanical lunge towards questions of whether strangers’ laughter in public was somehow resultant from her presence or not. This conscious negation would eventually permit her on occasion to forget that she was even physically present at all, endowing her processes of perception with a seemingly more passive quality that allowed her to further simply enjoy the stimulation gathered from whatever scenes she happened to encounter along her way. At other times, however, she could feel herself twist and sweat.

When relatively younger, Mireille’s recognition of this insecurity’s inexplicable persistence often made her fear that she was developing into something of a schizophrenic, or at least suffering from acute paranoia. However, as she matured—traversing through her teens over to the tail end of her twenties and into the onset of her thirties—she found that this trait was ecumenical among people. The facts of commonplace neurosis and rote psychosis calmed her (not only in regards to this, but a whole slew of human eccentricities).

Us all being somewhat mentally ill—according to definitions she gleaned from a required and overpriced psychology textbook and its numerous citations to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders—was a balm to the psychological anguish that accompanies adolescence and the awkward moments that often occur in the years that follow. Those moments—typically inconsequential and forgotten by other parties in attendance—can cling like limpets in one’s memory and at any random moment of recollection compel one to slap their palm upon their dull forehead like a cartoon idiot struck with the sudden acknowledgment that they have indeed gone off a cliff. Now, involuntarily sweating and stuck-through with the shrapnel of regret, this victim of memory is left to utter under-breath a Möbius strip recording of the perceived infraction; perhaps even mumble out a little, “god, I’m so stupid.” She believed lunacy, egalitarian by nature if not degree, was simply a tacit condition of sentient existence. This conviction helped Mireille reduce the memory of these sorts of incidents down to the psychological weight of a blooper reel. If there was something fundamentally wrong with her, well then, there was something fundamentally wrong with everybody!

________________________________________________________________________________________

* Although customarily her name, according to its French roots, would be pronounced mee-RAY, Mireille’s parents were unaware of this when they picked it out of a little white book, so she has been raised as Mer-El; with a little brother named Joe-Ah-Quin, spelled Joaquin. She would sometimes wonder just what was going on with her mother and step-father around the time of their conception, as her older brother and step-brothers all sported names such as Marc, David, and Peter.

_____________________                        _________________          _   _________________   _

Dendrites 5 cvr

-_______________________________   ——  —  ——–  _______________ –  __

——————————-(Click to Listen or Download)—————–

================____====  \^/  ============  ===  _ ===== == =    ==    =   __ – _>

X-Ray Machine – Landlady

Springsville – Miles Davis

Anyone for Tennis? (The Savage Seven Theme) – Cream

God Help Me – The Jesus & Mary Chain (ft. Shane MacGowan)

Cockney-Rebel-Timeless-Flight-T-467458

Red Is A Mean, Mean Colour/White, White Dove – Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel

Reddin Off – Afrikan Sciences

Reagan – Killer Mike [art by Daniel Garcia & Harry Teitelman]

Moroccan Handjob – Lilacs & Champagne

Dirty Man – Laura Lee

Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me – Fantômas

Monsters – Lucius

Harmonia Inventions/Crimson – Madlib

Over The Breaks – J Dilla [art by Daniel Tingcungco]

Bad With The Good – Peaking Lights

Nothing Good Ever Happens At The Goddamn Thirsty Crow – Father John Misty

Meet Me in the Morning/Call Letter Blues (Blood On The Tracks NY Sessions Outtakes) – Bob Dylan

Please Remember – Deafheaven

Superbird – Country Joe & the Fish

Take Off Your Face And Recover From That Trip You’ve Been On – Mushroom

04/15/05 Friday – Fantômas

….===================================  ======== == =    ==    =    = – __

_ _ _ __=========================================     ______
A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 5)
  • X-Ray Machine – Landlady
  • Springsville – Miles Davis
  • Anyone for Tennis? (The Savage Seven Theme) – Cream
  • God Help Me – The Jesus & Mary Chain (ft. Shane MacGowan)
  • Red Is A Mean, Mean Colour/White, White Dove – Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel
  • Reddin Off – Afrikan Sciences
  • Reagan – Killer Mike
  • Moroccan Handjob – Lilacs & Champagne
  • Dirty Man – Laura Lee
  • Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me – Fantômas
  • Monsters – Lucius
  • Harmonia Inventions/Crimson – Madlib
  • Over The Breaks – J Dilla
  • Bad With The Good – Peaking Lights
  • Nothing Good Ever Happens At The Goddamn Thirsty Crow – Father John Misty
  • Meet Me in the Morning/Call Letter Blues (Blood On The Tracks NY Sessions Outtakes) – Bob Dylan
  • Please Remember – Deafheaven
  • Superbird – Country Joe & the Fish
  • Take Off Your Face And Recover From That Trip You’ve Been On – Mushroom
  • 04/15/05 Friday – Fantômas
_ _ _ __=========================================     ______BOBBY CALERO

 

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 4)

_________________                      _________________   _

What should we call it?

      What good is a glossary when we truly do not know inside from outside, this side from the other, or even where there’s a door; when we would not know our ass from our elbows if we could not reliably locate our head firmly lodged up one of those? More words. Words, which get us close but eventually send us careening off the slick circumference that surrounds the thing itself—like the cell wall fuzz of a mold spore. We apply more words in hopes of a secure hold. But instead of a firm handshake the results are usually just surplus grease on the heel.

It was words and their reception that turned Nimrod—a mighty hunter before God—into Elmer Fudd. It was words and one delirious cartoon.

    But what of the self itself, and all that still under the rose? The self spreads, makes contacts. Of the self is the self. Tendrils: they float just below the surface; they swim, and flail and coil and spill and touch. Some kiss, and taste what? Phantom limbs—some call it quits and commit suicide at a cellular level, which resembles something akin to shore erosion. Some armor-up. Some recover and want to tell you their story. Some sing together in jubilant counterpoint. Some dance callous through our days. Others caress all through the night. For well or ill, some fasten. Expand-and-contract. Contact. Speed-up-and-slow-down. Tendrils; curled lashes encounter the burn; seize ice; all the temperatures between.

We get closer and closer to the map; words crowd the margins. But there are territories that cartographers can never retire. Moments are movements: a series of soft collisions with the apparatus of arithmetic and of alphabet—we play—meat and bone and beating breast and milk and downpour and blood and beauty and beast and bread and circus and soil and sincerity and catch and kiss and jealous and catch and kiss and release and catch and kiss and taste what?—a whole vessel for familiar games…all this & perhaps a bit of all that.

We share secrets.

If a man love me, he will keep my words.

      We fondle nymphs, larvae, while awaiting the imago. Words. Words are sound. —Words— Words are vision. —Words and sound and vision—Words—Words and perception—Words—Words and perception and memory—Words and perception and memory and attention—Words and perception and memory and attention and intelligence. All these cognitive functions—ideological assumptions you just cannot be sure of. It all started with words, at least some say.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the

Word was God.

            That word was neither an apology nor a demand for one.

_____________________                 _________________                      _________________   _ -_-   __

dendrites 4 cvr

_______________________________   ——  —  ——–  _______________ –  __

——————————-(Click to Listen or Download)—————–

================____===================  ===  _ ===== == =    ==    =   __ – _

(police cars and dogs) – Eat The Document soundtrack

The Ghost Of Tom Joad – Rage Against The Machine (Bruce Springsteen cover)

Close Your Eyes (And Count To Fuck) – Run The Jewels (ft. Zack De La Rocha)

Out & About – Richard Swift

Love Game – Eminem (ft. Kendrick Lamar)

Down On The Farm – Big Al Downing

Long Time Gone – Billie Joe Armstrong & Norah Jones

Razor Tongue – Martina Topley-Bird

My Ruins – Jim Carroll

Feeling Alright – Warpaint

Hooch – Kelis

When I Get This Feeling – Bobby Moore & the Rhythm Aces

Two Weeks – FKA Twigs

Endeavors For Never (The Last Time We Spoke You Said You Were Not Here; I Saw You Though.) – Shabazz Palaces

Makes Me Wanna Die – Tricky (ft. Martina Topley-Bird)

Chameleon/Death Trip – Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel

Bi-Polar Bear – Stone Temple Pilots

Scumbag – Jobriath

Left Hand Luke and The Beggar Boys – T.Rex

It’s Serious – Cooly G (ft. Karizma)

Outro – Martina Topley-Bird

 

______________———-___=========================================  __=

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 4)

  • (police cars and dogs)  – Eat The Document soundtrack
  • The Ghost Of Tom Joad – Rage Against The Machine (Bruce Springsteen cover)
  • Close Your Eyes (And Count To Fuck) – Run The Jewels (ft.  Zack De La Rocha)
  • Out & About – Richard Swift
  • Love Game – Eminem (ft. Kendrick Lamar)
  • Down On The Farm – Big Al Downing
  • Long Time Gone – Billie Joe Armstrong & Norah Jones
  • Razor Tongue – Martina Topley-Bird
  • My Ruins – Jim Carroll
  • Feeling Alright – Warpaint
  • Hooch – Kelis
  • When I Get This Feeling – Bobby Moore & the Rhythm Aces
  • Two Weeks – FKA Twigs
  • Endeavors For Never (The Last Time We Spoke You Said You Were Not Here; I Saw You Though.) – Shabazz Palaces
  • All Mine – Portishead 
  • Makes Me Wanna Die – Tricky (ft. Martina Topley-Bird)
  • Chameleon/Death Trip – Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel 
  • Bi-Polar Bear – Stone Temple Pilots
  • Scumbag – Jobriath
  • Left Hand Luke and The Beggar Boys – T.Rex
  • It’s Serious – Cooly G (ft. Karizma)
  • Outro – Martina Topley-Bird

__________—_–_________________     _   -_______

——————————————-BOBBY CALERO—————————–

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 3)

_____________________                       _________________                      _________________   _

On to the next moment.

      Was that our allotted life, an incessant testing of the tensile limits of these near imperceptible vacuums that in part comprise our cognizance? This followed by a fleeting recess in order that we may measure our instruments. To quote Peggy Lee quoting Jerry Leiber quoting Thomas Mann: “Is that all there is?” Is that all there is:——spill-and-coil-and-witness-and-move—spill-and-coil-and-witness-and-move—spill-and-coil-and-witness-and-move—spill-and-coil-and-witness-and-move—spill-and-coil-and-witness-and-move—spill-and-coil-and-witness-and-move—spill-and-coil-and-witness-and-move—spill-and-coil-and-witness-and-move—spill-and-coil-and-witness-and-move—spill-and-coil-and-witness-and-move——

No! There’s more. How often do we forget that what we discover with these instruments is a truth only relative to the instrument implemented? Yet, we habitually live here in the echo of a crowded hollow; we inhabit a theater we for our part create.

It was no wonder we often feel that life might only be maneuvered through by becoming one’s own audience. It was no wonder we sometimes notice that we’ve slid into a center seat in a middle aisle. We watch the film: spliced, taped, and scored towards a recognizable narrative structure and genre by young, conglomerate chimeras we call the self. This conceptual substitution—this thing that seemed to be formed from a slack mass of compacted fragments, while each particle of these fragments themselves are likewise only but a pile of disparate measures, which cling like wet garments and remain so by a mutual pursuit of functionality—this bundle.

Say the word: self. Say it again: self. Say the little syllable: self. Say it again: self. Feel how it plays alone at the utmost edge of your mouth—of you.

      Self. A concise whistle along the middle curl of a mass of lashed muscles suspended in the mouth; then with a succinct roll of the vocal cords comes that tap of the tongue where the enamel scoop of the maxillary central incisors (11 and 21) taper to sit in the alveolar ridge; subsequently, under another continuous stream of breath, the vocal folds cease to vibrate as the bottom lip softly presses at the caps of the top front teeth: self. Is that us; is this entity best encapsulated and best described by the catchall, audible, mechanical wave of pressure and displacement that results from this sequence of events? Was there an entity somewhere in that closed order? Culture the whole world over seemed a ceremony to honor that closed order.

Say the word: self. Say it again: self. Listen. Say the silly little syllable: self. Say it again: self. Listen to the sound: self.

Then there was the chomp on nothing that produces the little letter I.

      Self and I, a myriad of supple mirrors and chromatic lenses perpetually rearranged through the fluid to intimate the infinite image guessed at as required by a particular moment. Believed by whom? Who is it that plays interior decorator with these reflective planes and colored, gelatin filters? Where is it? What should we call it?

_____________________                        _________________                      _________________   _

dendrites 3 cvr

-_______________________________   ——  —  ——–  _______________ –  __
——————————-(Click to Listen or Download)—————–
.===================================  ======== == =    ==    =    = – __

Licorice (The Beginning)/Fällig – Madlib

Buy Her Candy – Sleater-Kinney

Prince-Parade-era

Crystal Ball – [******]

If You Got Funk, You Got Style (Voodoo sessions outtake riff) – D’Angelo

Dirty Boys – David Bowie

Pusher Love Girl – Justin Timberlake

Continental Shelf – Viet Cong

The-Soft-Boys-Love-Poisoning-563351

Leppo and The Jooves – The Soft Boys

Marquee Moon – Television

Clue One – Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross

Trimm Trabb/No Distance Left To Run/Optigan 1 – Blur

Lady, Your Roof Brings Me Down – Scott Weiland

See My Lord/Hades’ Lady/From The Day That You Were Born – Pop Levi

Metallic Cloud – Damien Jurado

(police cars and dogs) – Eat The Document soundtrack

.
_ _ _ __=========================================     ______
A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 3)
  • Licorice (The Beginning)/Fällig – Madlib
  • Buy Her Candy – Sleater-Kinney
  • Crystal Ball –  [Prince logo.svg]
  • If You Got Funk, You Got Style (Voodoo sessions outtake riff) – D’Angelo
  • Dirty Boys – David Bowie
  • Pusher Love Girl – Justin Timberlake
  • Continental Shelf – Viet Cong
  • Leppo and The Jooves – The Soft Boys
  • Marquee Moon – Television
  • Clue One – Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross
  • Trimm Trabb/No Distance Left To Run/Optigan 1 – Blur
  • Lady, Your Roof Brings Me Down – Scott Weiland
  • See My Lord/Hades’ Lady/From The Day That You Were Born – Pop Levi
  • Metallic Cloud – Damien Jurado
  • (police cars and dogs)  – Eat The Document soundtrack

__________——–_________________        -_______

——————————————-BOBBY CALERO—————————–

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (VOL. 2)

Mireille had grown weary of feeling that our experience of existence had unavoidably resulted in a tape delay.

“We are held hostage in someone else’s head…and in the end…and in our own. Regret will only get you ugly in the end.”

She considered the device currently slipped within a little zippered pocket inside her purse: plastic, glass, semiconductor chips of silicon, and rare earth minerals molded and arranged into a slim rectangle of circuit boards and a touchscreen with a friendly graphic user interface. Contemplating all it was capable of—all of its known, numerous applications, the ones she hasn’t figured out yet and the ones she didn’t care to—she asked herself:

“We’re already living in the future…aren’t we? …Or as far as this future is gonna go, really. From here-on-out and for awhile now it’s all just restatements of a theme, sure with a few innovative variations and tempo changes thrown in to keep us back-slap-smiling, ‘gee–whiz, how neat, this cutting-edge changes everything! Science will save us!’ But, shouldn’t we be somewhere else?

“Shouldn’t we be somewhere else and doing something other by now?”

A sudden nudge—Mireille felt a petite twitch of an impulse to check for updates and status changes. She rolled back the teeth of a zipper, then another, and pulled the phone from her bag. After a swipe, tap, tap, tap, tap of an index finger, another tap brought her to her home page. Lately, every time she logged in to her YouLoop account, over the remote din of row upon row of massive servers roaring away at some installation on a rural sprawl, an advert for an apparel company would pop-up with polished photos of professional mannequins—all so slender and young, all so pale-pink and fair-peach in skin tone, some sullen in denim, others with open mouths in graphic tees cavorting across the afternoon gloss of an open field—all asking in a bold white font atop a black background:

Who will be

“How the hell should I know?” Mireille said to herself. “How could anyone, when we don’t even know what these bundles of qualities we carry and call the self is right now at this moment?” After a distracted scroll down her digital profile’s wall, she logged off. Her phone was returned to its place.

Mireille had grown weary of feeling that our experience of existence had unavoidably resulted in a tape delay. Her suspicion was one of a procession of intervals. Each arriving on the heels of the other, there was enough space for our consciousness to spill a portion of its contents until they coil up to that moment’s capacity. Consciousness, that capo di tutti capi, with its arrogant tap to its bucket snout, yet so unaware of the sway on our days held by flora in the gut and all that other bacteria.

Once full we move on to the next container, but not before an often-inarticulate logging of our impressions on each repetitive step and making a remark or two about every noticeable variable. These recorded findings then color our notes on the subsequent one. Was that our allotted life, spinning on a color wheel? It is as if all our moments were truly only and always movements—some busy derivation from the game of hopscotch.

We scratch symmetry across the surface. We toss the little wet stone of our mind out into an interspersed series of linear and lateral blocks. We dance to retrieve it. We repeat the pattern.

However, here each lope and lollop to another square necessitates the player to perform a change of clothes to correspond with the color assigned to that box, while still taking into account the hue and tint from which they came. We amend our raiment—through Primary to Secondary to Tertiary—and every which way shade between. We slip on robust costumes and strut our feathers. Sometimes we are caught by the garish contrast of a complimentary pair and are required to dress in all white or all black. At other times our skitter through the squares causes us to consider too many pigments and we are left to squirm under attires like mud or wet cinder. But another hop could change all that: just a footstep away from that soot. One is almost certain that if they were to continue to play the game through they’d eventually land upon a true hue of you.

In our gambol across the grid we create relationships. We celebrate. We snicker. We share secrets.

In addition to this facet of the game, where catwalk runway and dressing room coalesce, we mustn’t forget the squares’ designated numbers and verse from their attendant Magpie Rhymes:

Zero for Earth;

One for sorrow,

Two for mirth;

Three for a wedding,

Four for birth;

Five for wealthy,

Six for poor;

Seven for some secret,

Forgotten Door;

Eight for a wish of Heaven,

Nine for a kiss of Hell;

And Ten a surprise for the Devils,

Who pray you get well!

_____________________                                 _________________                      _________________   _

Dendrites 2 cvr_______________________________   ——  —  ——–  _______________ –  __

——————————-(Click to Listen or Download)—————–

===================================  ======== == =    ==    =    = – __

Intro – Martina Topley-Bird

Oh Yeah – Foxygen

Every Boy and Girl – Lee Moses

Needles & Pins [alt. take] – Ramones

Let It Kill You – Imani Coppola

Looks Good With Trouble – Solange

Time 2 – Pharoahe Monch

Battling the City – Lilacs & Champagne

Your Brain Is Made of Candy – Mourn

Water – Juan Wauters

Clean [snippet] – Taylor Swift

New Mutation Boogie – Invisible Familiars

Gamma Ray (acoustic version) – Beck

Someone Like You – David Vandervelde

Sadder Day – Stephanie McKay

Fade Away And Radiate – Blondie

Laughing With A Mouth Of Blood – St. Vincent

Trouble Blues – Sam Cooke

U Looz – PRhyme (Royce da 5’9″ and DJ Premier)

Gimme A Chance – Azealia Banks

I Retired – Hamilton Leithauser

Poison – Martina Topley-Bird

Call The Law – Outkast (ft. Janelle Monáe)

Corner Pocket – Count Basie & His Orchestra

Biting My Nails – Genevieve Waite

Parakeet – Damon Albarn

Naked We Come– (by Jim Morrison – read by Johnny Depp)

______________———-___=========================================

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (Vol. 2)

  • Intro – Martina Topley-Bird
  • Oh Yeah – Foxygen
  • Every Boy and Girl – Lee Moses
  • Needles & Pins [alt. take] – Ramones
  • Let It Kill You – Imani Coppola
  • Looks Good With Trouble – Solange
  • Time 2 – Pharoahe Monch
  • Battling the City – Lilacs & Champagne
  • Your Brain Is Made of Candy – Mourn
  • Water – Juan Wauters
  • Clean [snippet] – Taylor Swift
  • New Mutation Boogie – Invisible Familiars
  • Gamma Ray (Acoustic) – Beck
  • Someone Like You – David Vandervelde
  • Sadder Day – Stephanie McKay
  • Fade Away And Radiate – Blondie
  • Laughing With A Mouth Of Blood – St. Vincent
  • Trouble Blues – Sam Cooke
  • U Looz – PRhyme (Royce da 5’9″ and DJ Premier)
  • Gimme A Chance – Azealia Banks
  • I Retired – Hamilton Leithauser
  • Poison – Martina Topley-Bird
  • Call The Law – Outkast (ft. Janelle Monáe)
  • Corner Pocket – Count Basie & His Orchestra
  • Biting My Nails – Genevieve Waite
  • Parakeet – Damon Albarn
  • Naked We Come – (by Jim Morrison – read by Johnny Depp)

__=========================================     ______

——————————————-BOBBY CALERO—————————–

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (Vol. 1)

Who will be

“How the hell should I know?” Mireille said to herself. “How could anyone, when we don’t even know what these bundles of qualities we carry and call the self is right now at this moment?” She had read somewhere “to be living is to be thinking.” This statement was made with the intention of being inclusive to all organisms on earth, and she found it beautiful in this respect. But as for herself, she often wished a way for this sentence to somehow exist as a curtailed “…to be…” and nothing more.

This wish was not a matter of numb pursuits towards some honeyed sopor; this had nothing to do with oblivious bliss or even lines. Those consoled by the style of nihilism might admire that anesthetized end as noble and offer a rhetorical, “What good was a ruin if not of your own design?” Yet Mireille did not desire to attain a life as an amputee grateful to be let loose from the distraction of limbs and their demands. She could not venerate her stumps as indicative of enlightenment. It was more to do with simply wanting to no longer consider the left foot, ponder the right—Mireille just wanted to walk.

“Whether in circles or forwards for now who really cares?”

Despite the presence of several “Top Ten Reasons To Click Here” style articles, there was nothing there on the screen that she felt was of immediate interest. After a distracted scroll down her digital profile’s wall, she logged off. Her phone was returned to its place. If you, Dear Reader, have found yourself experiencing any form of exasperation at all at this point, please explore your being for the animal’s wondrous faculty for empathy and consider just how Mireille might feel. She did not want to think about any of this.

“…to be…”

Nothing more.

Yes. All this thought, this brief foray into the clutter of ontology that she now found herself engaged in, even all this was something she considered: “fine, but just too much.” Particularly as she could foresee it as always and only an orchestra inevitably conducted through the ligaments and sieves of semantics. She did not want to live “the-movie-in-the-brain.” Mireille had grown weary of feeling that—being by biological design and perhaps some other as of yet unquantifiable element, necessarily mitigated through time-bending protein memory and sensory portals—our experience of existence had unavoidably resulted in a tape delay.

Mireille had grown weary of feeling that our experience of existence had unavoidably resulted in a tape delay.

_____________________                                 _________________                      _________________   _

Dendrites-1

_______________________________   —————–_______________

——————————-(Click to Listen or Download)—————–

 ===================================  ======== == =    ==    =    =

Press Play – Stone Temple Pilots

The Sparrow Looks Up At The Machine – The Flaming Lips

Too Deep – The Ghost Of A Saber Tooth Tiger

Indigo Child (Interlude)/Far Side Of The Moon – Tinashe

Fire On Your Feet – Pop Levi

Bear Witness – Dr. Octagon (aka. Kool Keith)

Montara – Madlib

So Far To Go – J Dilla (ft. Common & D’angelo)

Woo Hah!! Got You All In Check – Busta Rhymes

The Bully – Richard Swift

Owl – The Child Of Lov (Ft. MF DOOM)

The Freak Folk Drop By Dressed Up For Each Other – Mushroom

The Leopards Featuring Gardenia And The Mighty Slug – T. Rex

She’s Leaving Home – The Flaming Lips (ft. Julianna Barwick, Phantogram, Spaceface)

Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite! – The Beatles

Eht Dnarg Noisulli – Pharoahe Monch (ft. The Stepkids)

Daylight Savings – Imani Coppola

Data data – Jorge Drexler

Let It Ride – Robert Glasper Experiment (ft. Norah Jones)

Mysteries – Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Posthuman – Marilyn Manson

Dyin’ To Live – André 3000

______________———-___=========================================

A MOUTHFUL OF PENNIES PRESENTS: DENDRITES (Vol. 1)

  • Press Play – Stone Temple Pilots
  • The Sparrow Looks Up At The Machine – The Flaming Lips
  • Too Deep – The Ghost Of A Saber Tooth Tiger
  • Indigo Child (Interlude)/Far Side Of The Moon – Tinashe
  • Fire On Your Feet – Pop Levi
  • Bear Witness – Dr. Octagon (aka. Kool Keith)
  • Montara – Madlib
  • So Far To Go  – J Dilla (ft. Common & D’angelo)
  • Woo Hah!! Got You All In Check – Busta Rhymes
  • The Bully – Richard Swift
  • Owl – The Child Of Lov (Ft. MF DOOM)
  • The Freak Folk Drop By Dressed Up For Each Other – Mushroom
  • The Leopards Featuring Gardenia And The Mighty Slug – T. Rex
  • She’s Leaving Home – The Flaming Lips (ft. Julianna Barwick, Phantogram, Spaceface)
  • Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite! – The Beatles
  • Eht Dnarg Noisulli – Pharoahe Monch (ft. The Stepkids)
  • Daylight Savings – Imani Coppola
  • Data data – Jorge Drexler
  • Let It Ride – Robert Glasper Experiment (ft. Norah Jones)
  • Mysteries – Yeah Yeah Yeahs
  • Posthuman – Marilyn Manson
  • Dyin’ To Live – André 3000

———————–BOBBY CALERO——————————-

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 33 other followers