Our great ship has frozen into the ice, which itself slowly circles this cursed bay where the sun can barely life itself above the horizon.
At night, the ice moans and cracks, pressing in, attempting to crush the hull.
But we’ve got a 5x match for those who donate now and your name will be carved into the prow as part of our Donators of Note if you click below.
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It’s Friday and we all know what that means! We pile up all our tools from the work week and fling them out into the dark waters of the quarry. For the coming weekend, the bubbles stop rising up as whatever lives down there starts its own work, deepening the pit, lowering the water, and we can float near the water’s edge in peace until the work week starts again and our tools resurface, acrid but still sharp.
Don’t be ridiculous. There’s not a giant beating heart in the middle of the town square, suspended by strange ropy red cabling, powering the dark forces that have swept through the village. That’s ridiculous. How would that even work?
It’s obviously a metaphor. As such, it can be wrestled with symbolically, perhaps with wheat paste posters, but you absolutely shouldn’t fire a rocket launcher at it over the heads of the vampire lords who’ve replaced the local government.
The Signal: EP182 – Exactly 45 minutes of music that may not be what you want, but it’s what you need. This time out, we’ve got movin’, we got groovin’… we’ve got garage punk from Austria and Indonesia, drum & bass, Yugoslavian jazz from the 70s, synth pop, Indian-American hip-hop, crackly Armenian vinyl and more!
Download by clicking on the link (or image) above. The file is available only for a limited time. If you’re interested in the tracklist, it’s in the mp3 itself, in the id3 tags. If you’d like to receive an email every time a new mix is posted, uh… ask me, I guess. I keep a list but I do it manually. Or just keep coming back here every once in awhile. It’s a free country.
1. Can of soda – Hold can of soda out front of you, don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself behind the soda can
2. Sheet – Crawl under a sheet. Don’t come out ’til November.
3. Frankenstein – Allow your breast to swell with unimaginable hubris. Truly believe that any you create puts you on par with the Creator, whom you intend to surpass.
4. Dracula – Bite someone. After being invited, of course.
The Signal – DUBdubdubdub. Something a little different this time out: a selection of dub techno, to accompany any flow state activity you might be engaged in.
Download by clicking on the link (or image) above. The file is available only for a limited time. If you’re interested in the tracklist, it’s in the mp3 itself, in the id3 tags.
The Signal: EP181 – Exactly 45 minutes of music designed to make you spin in place and open your chestplate to let your heart light shine. This time out we’ve got hip hop, grime beats, drum & bass, post punk and punk-punk, retro-80s pop and griot music from Mauritania. Where else you gonna go to find a mix like that, eh?
Download by clicking on the link (or image) above. The file is available only for a limited time. If you’re interested in the tracklist, it’s in the mp3 itself, in the id3 tags. If you’d like to receive an email every time a new mix is posted, uh… ask me, I guess. I keep a list but I do it manually, like an Ancient. I write the emails with a quill.
The Signal: EP180 – Exactly 45 minutes of music designed by expert ears to soothe your inner monkey. This time out we’ve got a Peruvian/Spanish-French polyglot pop, Fleetwood Mac-style vibes, wall of sound shoegaze, planetary core-deep bass, dubbed out reggae and more!
Download by clicking on the link (or image) above. The file is available only for a limited time. If you’re interested in the tracklist, it’s in the mp3 itself, in the id3 tags. If you’d like to receive an email every time a new mix is posted, you can ask to be added to the mailing list that I maintain by hand, though I admit that requires you to know how to reach me. You can figure it out.
The sound of a circus in the kitchen. A big top underneath the table. Ducking between the legs of grown-ups, towards the smell of sawdust and cotton candy.
Three rings down there, somehow. Eye contact with the ring leader who sends an assistant to take your hand, lead you to a spotlighted door.
Through the door and it latches behind with a click, a final click, and you’re in the Clown Room. The infinite space they dwell in until some reckless fool opens a clown car door.