Friday, 27 November 2015

dark world

he walked out into the gray light and stood
and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world
the cold relentless circling of the intestate earth
darkness implacable
the blind dogs of the sun in their running
the crushing black vacuum of the universe 
and somewhere two hunted animals trembling 
like ground-foxes in their cover

borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes 
with which to sorrow it

Cormac McCarthy, The Road

d a r k   w o r l d

Alpha delta charlie one - mayday.  I repeat mayday
Requesting emergency evac and extraction instruction
I'm lost ... over

night parachuting

Some call it hypnotism, I like/prefer - suggestion ... ok, you're flying over mountains - no idea where you areClose your eyes, you're feeling sleepy - you're seeing something far away and long ago - and yet, right in front of you right now.  Your destiny.

Psychology, Philosophy and Physiology trimetrically opposed - divided in chaotic algorithms nonsensical - mixed signals in a military exercise gone wrong only because what was on the other side was unexpected and deadly.  How was I supposed to know?
Years later, haunting dreams, always airborne, so cool - waking yet again - in a cold sweat ... lay of the land - gotta map this.  You will see something different every time you look at it - the whole idea ... multiple viewings are recommended.  Sorry, no contract provision or disclaimer that guarantees your safety, even freedom - just straight up good, clean fun, should you subscribe.

I wrote and recorded Dark World in February 1991 in my home studio on Walnut Avenue in Toronto and it is the opening track of my first independent instrumental album Night Parachuting.  In short; I came home on a cold wet winter Sunday night (freezing rain), from a men’s group that I attended at the time.  This one was different.  I had never before felt such overwhelming grief nor had I ever openly mourned my losses with such intensity and so openly, stepping in the door at 11:15pm drenched, shivering, shedding from the inside out.  Sitting for a time and staring out a wet window, my wife and my little girl in bed sleeping

Candles burning, hearing big drums beating and voices soaring - some screaming through the grid.  Feeling inspired (to purge), I laid this down in about 5 hours - under my STAX electrostatic headphones, fueled by my vintage Marantz 1060 integrated power amp, pulling it up here 24 years later on my Dad’s birthday, November 27, 2015 (he would have been 90 today), and adding these images to his music.  This is what I heard and saw that night - being able to visualize it now - and share it is coolThinking 'out of the box' - fascinating idea.  So crisp.  A dark journey back to a time - needing to go there.

I'm thinking this is a good time to set the record straight - I love my Dad Rough ride but I forgive you.  Cold.  

It's all you knew ... none of that matters now.

d a r k   w o r l d


dedicated to Glen James LaMarche 
(November 27, 1925 - September 12, 2002)