Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci
How I Long To Feel The Summer In My Heart CD - Mantra Recordings
God bless the summer in your hearts boys! How I long to feel
the dripping rivers of my true love’s snatch. How I long
to reach the befuddled teenage recluse, reading Montaigne by
the ebbing glow of the fire-light, gripping tight each page,
like adobe fisherman skinning their catch. How I long for feral
house cats to surround my immortalized headstone: Here lies
Joshua Gabriel: House Cat. I want to swing knickerless, sailing
through the stratosphere, waving at all unassuming lunch-aides
blowing harder their whistles! Screeee! Screeee! I want more
than heaven can offer and less than my imagination will conjure.
In between the jungles of paradise and the ocean of death lies
separatist idioms of pure conjecture, I read from the scrolls
and drank from the goblets; I will explain this record. Each
of these twelve acoustic composites manages to elongate indie-rock’s
penchant for timely and vacuous frailties. Resolutely combining
empty whispers of delicate confessions left hastily dangling
from the womb, I lay on my bed dazed by lullabies aching to
be released. Alienating to the point of retaliation and giving
to point of sacrifice, this no star cast of Welsh common folk
resolve themselves in typographic homogeny, securing themselves
in safe distances from the haunted cells of the outside world.
Blue skies reflected in the eyes of alter boys and trendy primo
donnas, self-gratifying immobilization and an inward war greater
than the crusades. I am inspired by its lack of care, its institutional
awkwardness and its deluge of normalcy. Even Gordon Lightfoot’s
first album had more life than this motherfucker of a record.
“Art for art’s sake, money for God’s sake.”
©2004 Skyscraper Magazine.
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