"Right Now" is the name of my track on New England, the RRRecords 10th anniversary 5-LP Box Set. Including myself, there are ten noise artists involved, all from New England. Each artist gets one side of a 12" LP; also, each artist got to hand-decorate 45 of the LP boxes (Ron from RRR did the other 50).
My boxes feature the lyrics to my track on the back side; the first five copies also have small pieces of broken vinyl records glued around the text. The front is the old cover from the RRR 5th anniversary box set, with the addition of a clear sticker with the score to my piece, a small sticker with an inverted map of New England circa the 1600's, and large chunks of broken records.
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Diagram: A - Untitled
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Diagram: A - Untitled
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Human Is Filth - Untitled
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Human Is Filth - Untitled
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Human Is Filth - Untitled
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Human Is Filth - Untitled
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Human Is Filth - Untitled
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Karlheinz - Right Now
It's starting again.That old familiar feeling,the feeling that starts at the tip of your knuckles,burns your stomach,and ends at the head of your dick.The thought,the idea,circling your consciousness like a black wolf around a crippled sheep. Your companion since your birth.
It started slowly. Nothing,really. A pleasant way to pass the time at your menial job; a way to distract your mind from the buzzing of that eighth cup of menial job; a way to distract your mind from the buzzing of that eighth cup of coffee. Started by a nasty look from a coworker or your boss or just the fact that c you have to be there at all.
There really is no reason not to.
Your future is laid out for you like the gears of an assembly line of monotony. A future of soul crushing labor,spiraling debt,and cancerous death. You will go home tonight to be treated to your girlfriend and her stupid friends talking about babies or sex or the latest soaps. Or your equally fucking stupid friends reminiscing about sports or music or drugs or whose tits are bigger in the jerkoff rags.
And you really should have talked her into getting an abortion.
Cigarettes and cheap booze and sagging flesh and blood for cash. Dysfunction and rusted cars and factory smoke. Shit stains and drugs and hangovers and cops and bail. It will never get better than this.
Really,it's just not worth it.
Not worth it at all.That one walking alone down the street.
The old and meth thin one on the street that you know could be bought cheap.
The pretty,snobbish whore at work that gives you hostile looks when you pass her in the hall.
The ones in church.
Or the playground.
It could be anyone. Anyone available.
And words like:deserving,or consequences,or justice,mean less than nothing next to the pit in your stomach and the throbbing at the base of your cock.
How many times have you driven home the long way?
How many times have you gone looking?
How many times have the headlights searched the roadside looking for release and finding only trees and beer cans?
On nights like this one?
Just like this one right now. . .
It happens tonight.
It happens right now. -
Brutum Fulmen - Grubs
From www.noisician.com:
Manual typewriters, cassette tape, feedback, metal shelving.
One of my favorite tracks from the Spork days, which I hadn't quite found the right place to release.
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Brutum Fulmen - Artificial Life
From www.noisician.com:
Source sounds taken from the first performance of George Antheil's infamous Ballet Mecanique. Appropriately enough recorded in Lowell, MA.
The "Ballet" is a long and frantic workout for 16 player pianos, percussion, siren, and airplane propellors. I was determined to create a more atmospheric piece, though the material did not make that easy, especially since I also did not want to entirely obscure the original sounds.
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Brutum Fulmen - Fever Dream
From www.noisician.com:
Live solo improv for feedback, metal, voice, plastic reed.
Recorded in my basement using some variation of my live feedback setup and a mic feeding a delay effect.
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Brutum Fulmen - The Apparatus
From www.noisician.com:
Manual typewriters.
This was the piece that originally got me using manual typewriters as a sound source. I created this for an unrealized compilation of music inspired by the writings of Franz Kafka. This piece is based on the short story "In the Penal Colony" where "the apparatus" is a torture device which inscribes the transgressions of prisoners into their skin. At some point before they die, there is supposedly a moment of enlightenment. The story ends with the warden strapped to the apparatus himself. My concept for this piece had something to do with author as penitent, and typewriter as "apparatus" and the act of writing as the sacrifice for enlightenment. Whatever, I liked how the sounds worked out.
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Immaculate:Grotesque - September Possession
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Immaculate:Grotesque - Movement
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Prurient - Three Sisters
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Can't - Like Some Radios
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Can't - Parasitics
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Can't - Lullaby
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Mr. Brinkman - Untitled
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Mr. Brinkman - Untitled
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Mr. Brinkman - Untitled
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Skin Crime - Untitled
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Sickness - Drown - Sink
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Sickness - Drown - Swallow
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Sickness - Drown - Suffocate
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