1. |
Click and Catch Switch
03:40
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click and catch switch
you speakered him
I microphoned
then space the boom
I hummed your plop
you switched my splash
they writed click
they spotified
he sayed his click
and singed a crack
goed past a strum
runned a rumble
we lockdown hush
whimper dull breath
pandemic me
you’re vaccinate
they haved a whack
you people it
they disastered
keyboard your click
environmented
barrymored
and swimming pooled
he middled classed
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2. |
Landscape Painting
04:09
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Green Lane
standard definition
blurry artefacts
sun winter, bright
confected view
overhead position
out of sight
of animal
trending south east
front elevation
spindly tree branches
green lane light
aerial
along the footpath
old woodland strip
dual carriageway
twenty years ago
a camcorder
traffic passing
on both sides
overhead
bare branches
road markings
Green Lane
winter hospital
white architecture
subdivided
surface mesh
green open space
crows and cars
roofs and chimneys
red bricks and tiles
cars and buses
perspective illusion
fast tracking
360 degrees
subsurface
texture map
leaking node
space render
white walls
white washed
pipes and asphalt
around the block
surface mesh
scattering
in three dimensions
against the sky
along the Wrythe
trending north
over roof
chimney pots
loft extension
leylandia cypress
parking bay
privet hedge
rendering
red brick rows
approximating
landscape painting
tracking south west
towards the weald
contemporary
and decades old
rasterised
pull back frame
global illumination
unbroken terrain
model matrix
depopulated
landscape painting
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3. |
Terminal Passage
04:27
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so it’s in the Gulf of Panama
they say they’ll make a place
based on cryptocurrency
as units of exchange
so they buy a luxury liner
that docks at Amsterdam
to sail north through the Atlantic
then due south to Pan Am
the ship slides out of harbour
on Sunday after two
some twenty years ago
with just a basic crew
few passengers, the bars well stocked
the kitchens full of food
they loiter on the lido deck
and sleep in ocean view
they hug the coast of Norway
Bergen and Lofoten
then they dock in Tromsø
where passengers embark
cruising Trondheim Fjord
north west Norwiegan Sea
deep water trench and peak
tides rising twice a day
bustle in the dining room
clanking clatter cutlery
illuminated disco floor
the deck shines with water
crowded rows of tables
chairs scrape orange carpet
the waiter comes bringing a tray
of piles of plates and bowls
ornate staircases jewelled with lights
joggers on the upper deck
late afternoon and through the night
hours staring out to sea
north of Jan Mayen Island
and ice is all around
it cracks and growls, and roars and howls
it makes a mournful sound
called to the muster station
the captain makes the call
as though in an emergency
confined to quarters all
from windward blown to leeward
the plague runs through the ship
the passengers all quarantined
within the lower decks
day after night, night after day
they’re stuck, no breath no motion
as idle as a painted ship
upon a painted ocean
upon the seventh seasick day
they make their port of call
a sand so white, and sea so blue
no landing there at all
and now that they can’t disembark
for fear the plague would spread
a ghostly island nation
of the living and the dead
worth their weight in crypto gold
but no one leaves alive
the plague ship floats forever
off the coast of Panama
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4. |
No Blood No Soil
09:36
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the land takes the people
they play on ancient instruments
of string and horn and hide
they connect to nature sounds
of water, wind, and fire
in rivers, forests, burial mounds
they spell their names with runes
they wear antlers on their heads
submerged in streams they’re part of nature
it feeds them in their dreams
primal folk spirit
connecting nature and tradition
their blood is in the soil
and soil is in their blood
their blood is in the soil
the soil is in their blood
the prehistoric music that they
play on dead wild animals
elemental sounds
brought to streams
woodland and earthworks
ancient nomenclature
animal horn helmetted
watercourse close to nature
sleep in nature
dreams of nature
primal percussive tradition
spirit folk soil blood
rural tradition, pure healthy soil
violent and beautiful nature
in the beech forest
the hill speaks to her
uncivilised writing
of the vanished land
of forefathers
and its return
Earth, nature, animal
trees and mountains
organic farming, living space
autochthonous zones
pure organic soil
uncivilised landscapes
vanished forefathers
ground writing
vegetation, geology
fork foot hand soil
land to be worked
soil to be trod
in ordure and decay lives poetry
landscape fertility
and nationality
soil blood health humus and England
the rocks speak a different language
limestone and chalk
walls and houses grow out of the ground
soil trod soil work soil blood
fertile and national
humus and English
limestone chalk
dream of the village
grown from earth
roll across the wold
confusion of ground and land and country and nation
landscape names
a not belonging
it’s not a theology
of the wild
with wondrous evocations
of spiritual nature
or enchantment of
golden moments
of primordial light and energy
no-one belongs
no spirits here
no wild enchanted
golden energy
why is the land protected
and who decides
who can or cannot be in this place
and what can or cannot they do
there are no insiders
there are no outsiders
no outsiders to place
there is no truth in land
no blood in the soil
it is all thrown together
never was ever planned
come out of land
they are imposed upon it
who makes the myths?
and to what end?
let the land take the people
inside outside
no grounded truth
no myths no genius in the locus
no spirit in the place
to paint, plant, or design
myths emplaced
no genius
humus and English
dreaming nature
prehistorical musical
uncivilised landscapes
ungrounded truth
no-one belongs
what authority resides
soil trod soil work soil blood
played on dead animals
pure organic soil
elemental sounds
ground writing
vanished forefathers
brought to streams
woodland and earthworks
vegetation, geology
ancient nomenclature
dream of village
animal horn helmetted
grown from earth
fertile and national
limestone chalk
no spirits here
no golden energy
myths emplaced
inside outside
the watercourse nature
enchanted spirit
sleep nature
primal percussion tradition
spirit folk soil blood
roll across the wold
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Steven Ball London, UK
Steven Ball has been working as an artist since the early 1980s, in film, video, sound, installation, and performance, and has been a member of the post-punk DIY group Storm Bugs. In 2014 he started writing and recording songs as a solo project, being particularly concerned with experimenting with which kinds of texts might constitute a song lyric. ... more
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