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These recorded-narration segments typically fall flat in a live context, but I think they work rather nicely as recorded pieces. As with show #5, I more fully appreciate the results of the prepared guitar trio now than I did at the time -- although on this occasion it does obstruct the narration a bit too much in a couple places. I wish the three of us had had more opportunity to develop this kind of interaction. The speaker is our friend Lori Anne Chambers, who we met at a Current 93 show in France in 1996 only to discover that she lived quite close to us in California. In the late 90s I recorded her reading a few of my OAC texts and thought she did a wonderful job. I’ve yet to make fully adequate use of those recordings.

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lyrics

text:
It was either yesterday evening or a particularly dark afternoon when I found what I believed to be a carcass, engulfed in a swarm of tiny carrion flies while it reclined upon the spongy mass of neglect beneath the stump of a tree. As my phrasing has already implied, it turned out not to be a carcass at all: that is to say, it was not deceased, nor was it composed of living tissue. It was roughly human in shape but considerably smaller in scale, formed in equal measure out of what appeared to be unprocessed metal and a highly crystalline variety of stone. What attraction this held for the flies, I still could not say.

My first response upon stumbling across this perplexing scenario was a mild anxiety brought about by a conditioned sense of social responsibility. Was I obligated to take any action to either assist or remove such a thing? It soon became clear that it was not in any discomfort; it could even be described as perfectly content with its situation. This was a source of relief to me, and I happily abstained from offering it any sympathy.

My curiosity, however, was not so easily assuaged. I studied the small figure for some time. Perhaps because of the poor lighting -- or, even more likely, for reasons far more arcane -- I was never able to perceive clearly the surface texture of its various parts. Sometimes it appeared to be moist and pliable, and then it would shift and convey an equally strong impression of being unusually hard, possibly even brittle. Needless to say, I could never bring myself to actually touch it: this struck me as an unthinkable violation of both of our respective boundaries.

It was not long before the light degenerated to a point where the object of my scrutiny was described in only the vaguest of outlines, and I knew I was wasting my time -- quite likely, overstaying my welcome as well. I returned home and attempted to create a facsimile of the strange figure from memory, using whatever materials were at hand and seemed most appropriate. Within the hour, my ability to recall any details of my discovery had faded entirely, leaving me burdened with a crude, roughly-human-shaped relic of my own creation that filled me with an inexplicable dread, and bore absolutely no relation to the encounter from which it had been born.

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credits

from Public Performance #7: Lobot Gallery, Oakland {2005​-​06​-​24}, released October 26, 2011
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Greg Scharpen: prepared acoustic guitar, objects
John Scharpen: prepared electric guitar, objects
M. S. Waldron: auto horn, prepared bass guitar, wire bowl, objects, field recordings
Lori Anne Chambers: pre-recorded narration

license

all rights reserved

tags

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