Released May 2019, Willdabeast presentd 12 focused, powerful tracks on compact disc
"What sings are the movements of duration and focus. Like the beast that crawls forth slowly. Arcilla-baked, alacritous, alert. Like the alabaster mountain peaks rising from the mist -- or the sea learning to flip over like a whale and float overhead disguised as a cloud -- cumulus, curious, lighter than air, drifting at last free from the sea, the tones of ...If Only For Yourself free the listener, there is no hurry; the riffs resound, culminating in moments of attenuation and extension, formless but immaculately formed. It enters a place where body and mind unite, but below-mind bellows, an unseen subconscious sea, one that swells, subsides, and coalesces. You know it only by the weight of its gravity and the echo of its luminous present: fine-grained, translucent form of gypsum, crystal, a harmonic rose-milk made into precious stone ready to be carved into ornaments. Its story is how we live and where: its many molts move in defiance of genre -- mood, electronic, funk, subdued rap, almost classical moments -- a moon swerve, surge of beast beats that blend emotionally, intently, insistently along a synthesized spiral staircase leading to the swirl satin dawn. To what does it give light? To your own imaginations. Your ability to engage. Beyond the haunting buzz of the Jerusalem cricket child of the earth, flittering lady bugs, and brown-gray scarab beetles. As fusion determines solidification, this is the solidification of movement, in motion, note seducing, layered like the Australian outback or the towering ancients of the Pacific Northwest. Somewhere among the massive trunks there is a perceptible breathing, dew-breathing, brain edging, sediment of sound accruing and painting the walls like the caves at Lascaux. It is where we are and where we begin. It is a welcome to your present state, blossoms among the thistle, your own hauntings, desires, fulfilled movements. Drinking the stuff, cymbal symbol in the sky, passeggiata dolces drive dive into wail stomp, play with fire. Precise changes in tempo come quick burst-like flares. Top-heavy energy, fire frizz of freedom rings, indirect objects orbit glyph-clawed. Drops of honey-rain on a tin roof. The conversation. Rebel nation, revelation, jubilation. Mood shifts, percussive swagger, progressive plunge, dense rub, rough-edge of underbelly. Take it as you will, the beast has been uncaged, If only For Yourself. You can succumb to its magic or ride it like a muscular, musical, impeccable, wind-whipped foam. Let the algorithms fall where they will, this is your moment, take it, and soar!"
'If Only For Yourself'
poem by Loss Pequeño Glazier
credits
released May 7, 2019
Released May 2019, Willdabeast presentd 12 focused, powerful tracks on compact disc
"What sings are the movements of duration and focus. Like the beast that crawls forth slowly. Arcilla-baked, alacritous, alert. Like the alabaster mountain peaks rising from the mist -- or the sea learning to flip over like a whale and float overhead disguised as a cloud -- cumulus, curious, lighter than air, drifting at last free from the sea, the tones of ...If Only For Yourself free the listener, there is no hurry; the riffs resound, culminating in moments of attenuation and extension, formless but immaculately formed. It enters a place where body and mind unite, but below-mind bellows, an unseen subconscious sea, one that swells, subsides, and coalesces. You know it only by the weight of its gravity and the echo of its luminous present: fine-grained, translucent form of gypsum, crystal, a harmonic rose-milk made into precious stone ready to be carved into ornaments. Its story is how we live and where: its many molts move in defiance of genre -- mood, electronic, funk, subdued rap, almost classical moments -- a moon swerve, surge of beast beats that blend emotionally, intently, insistently along a synthesized spiral staircase leading to the swirl satin dawn. To what does it give light? To your own imaginations. Your ability to engage. Beyond the haunting buzz of the Jerusalem cricket child of the earth, flittering lady bugs, and brown-gray scarab beetles. As fusion determines solidification, this is the solidification of movement, in motion, note seducing, layered like the Australian outback or the towering ancients of the Pacific Northwest. Somewhere among the massive trunks there is a perceptible breathing, dew-breathing, brain edging, sediment of sound accruing and painting the walls like the caves at Lascaux. It is where we are and where we begin. It is a welcome to your present state, blossoms among the thistle, your own hauntings, desires, fulfilled movements. Drinking the stuff, cymbal symbol in the sky, passeggiata dolces drive dive into wail stomp, play with fire. Precise changes in tempo come quick burst-like flares. Top-heavy energy, fire frizz of freedom rings, indirect objects orbit glyph-clawed. Drops of honey-rain on a tin roof. The conversation. Rebel nation, revelation, jubilation. Mood shifts, percussive swagger, progressive plunge, dense rub, rough-edge of underbelly. Take it as you will, the beast has been uncaged, If only For Yourself. You can succumb to its magic or ride it like a muscular, musical, impeccable, wind-whipped foam. Let the algorithms fall where they will, this is your moment, take it, and soar!"
'If Only For Yourself'
poem by Loss Pequeño Glazier
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