Monthly Archives: May 2015

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

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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

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

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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.

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_ _ _ __=========================================     ______
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)

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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

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

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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

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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)

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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.

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Dendrites 5 cvr

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

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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

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_ _ _ __=========================================     ______
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)

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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

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——————————-(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

 

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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?

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dendrites 3 cvr

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——————————-(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

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_ _ _ __=========================================     ______
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—————————–