Manafonistas

on life, music etc beyond mainstream

a title

 

life doesn’t start with a title

the one man show

we are water

and return there

we go

to the place of the slurry

and berry and bail

the smell and the wrinkle

the pulse and the pale

thin bone  man

long arm man

gristle and cold wind

make tool man

freak out man

dance like the bears

follow the stars man

with wet oil on down

a hairy elemental

wide eyes pinned round

a two lunar myopia

to what we spin round

ein titel

 

leben beginnt nicht mit einem titel

der einmannschau

wir sind wasser

und kehren dorthin zurück

wir gehen

an den ort des schlicks

von beere und ballen

der geruch und das rümpfen

der puls und das erblassen

dünnknochen     mann

langarm    mann

knorpel und kalter wind

mach werkzeug mann

flip aus mann

tanz wie die bären

folge den sternen mann

mit nassem öl auf daunen

ein behaartes elementares

aufgerissene augen festgenadelt um

eine zweimondige kurzsichtigkeit

zu der wir uns im kreise drehen

 

sounds alien

sounds are alien and dense • life will not make sense • rhythm seams • will syncopate

the strangest rhythm well drums between the bells.

fremdklänge

klänge sind fremd und dicht • einen sinn hat leben nicht • rhythmusnähte • werden synkopieren

der merkwürdigste rhythmus quell trommeln zwischen den glocken.

 

dow

 

WUMp0010dow1010011jones101001KOffein Rad

frequenZEN10100111010011staHl101001101001adrenalin

FLITZT101001WIE1010011EINE101001101001EIDECHSE101001RÜCKGRAT

Und1010011101001110100111010011EIN10100111010011didgeridoo

WÄHREND101001ZAHLEN1010011STAPELN1010011Und101001BRECHEN

Und101001diamANTEN1010011SCHERBEN1010011(ENT101001ZWEI)1010..ballistiscHE101001TROMMELN1010011Und1010011FAHREN10100nACHt

SIGNALISIERENde101001diodeN1010011Und1010011natÜrlICHES liCht

tokIo110BEI1001TAG1001BÖRSE110BEI10 NACHT

BÖRSE101BEI1001TAG1011tokIo100BEI011nACht

WURSTEL110DENKE1011gäre101rudre101 WEITER 1011DURCH

GELD HINDURCH101in001DEn101MISCHMASCH1010DEN DU0101AUF1010LIEST101Stöcke

RÜHREN10100LAUT101001Spielen101001101001stolzes

manna101001101001101001kanna101001101001101001101mazzu

während101001zahlen101001101001stapeln101001und101001Brechen

und101001diamanten101001scherben101001(ent101001zwei)101001.

ballistische101001TROMMELN101001und101001FAHREN101001nacht

signalisierende101001dioden10001und1010natürliches10101licht

tokIo101bei101TAG1011Börse1001bei10nacht

BÖRS101bei1001Tag1001tokio10100bei01 nacht

This entry was posted on Samstag, 25. Juni 2011 and is filed under "Blog". You can follow any responses to this entry with RSS 2.0. Both comments and pings are currently closed.

2 Comments

  1. Jochen Siemer:

    Die Übersetzungen sind von Thomas Schirmer.
    Vielen Dank dafür im Namen der Manafonistas.

  2. Michael Engelbrecht:

    During the 1980s there was a space where contemporary art and music could overlap: where the borders sometimes hardly existed. Wim Wenders, Derek Jarman, Peter Greenaway, Throbbing Gristle, Arthur Russell, Laurie Anderson proudly displayed their critical and art-house credentials. The overarching principle was that art was resistance, a cultural King Canute challenging the tide to advance inward.
    The 90s saw the erosion of this space. Music became preoccupied with itself. As digital distribution exploded, cataloguing systems called for some way of ordering up the information. Genre became common parlance, resulting in music and film starting to look inwardly at style, attempting to understand the nature of the form rather than the message. And lack of message led to lack of aftertaste for us, the listeners; the experience was often reduced to merely remembering or forecasting the highs and lows of these musical stylistics. Endlessly discussing tangential details.
    2011. Can music have a message anymore? Eno thinks so, and ‘Drums Between the Bells’ is his wake up call, a year zero; it tells us to materially and expressively log-off and jog on. Eno’s revelation is: lyrics must be our poetry; they should abandon the battered pop memes of ego, power, or wealth. They must aspire to the directness of haiku, and talk of tiny revelations like seed pods clickering against commuter traffic. They must call for freedom of creation for our brilliant young! Politics, time and data are this album’s various ruminations. Rick Holland providing the words to Eno’s sound.
    The sound field is a compendium of many aspects of Eno’s output – evolving ambient textures, brittle plastic funk, sonorous plucked arpeggi, anthemic faux-orchestral, reversed and time-altered reproductions. Most venture into locked major key explorations, or single note drones, varying the rhythms to refract the light differently upon the smooth surfaces. This work has distilled the essence d’Eno, the like of which we’re not sure we’ve enjoyed so much in years. This feels like a work born of many years of graft, many abandoned false starts; work that is cut, re-cut, re-made, re-thought. It feels pin sharp, like cold rain, or maybe a new typeface. It feels simultaneously dreamlike and up-in-your-grill hyperreal. A bewitching and provocative call to arms for us all. Aus: bowlegsmusic.com


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