High Let Me Fly (Warpstr Remix)

plz don’t love me

Performed live by Pan Yicheng 2019

https://pan-yicheng.blogspot.com/

Crossing (for prepared piano)

Graffito by Corporation OUT NOW via Genot Centre // digital & tape
Get it now // http://bit.ly/gen037_stream

Produced by https://soundcloud.com/keru-not-ever & https://soundcloud.com/julienracine
Cover design by Daniel Vojtíšek
Mastered by @wimdehaen

GRAFFITO by CORPORATION (Keru Not Ever & Racine) is a volatile point cloud forged from a peculiar alloy, a paradoxical blueprint inviting multiple readings. Various perspective lines can be tracked but it never becomes explicit what space, what landscape, which geometry is being sketched, where these lines of inquiry precisely converge. The sound approach is diagonal, smeared, aerosolized - but as the diffusive movement advances the quantitative turns qualitative and moments of pure texture turn ornate, verticalized again - the phase transition is complete. During this state of emergence, iridescent precipitations, multi scale order and newly formed domains ossify, only to venture into the fracture zone again, to crumble into dust, to roll along the path of entropy. Yet time linearity has no business here and many crossroads are offered, insinuations to loop back, to overlay, to spin the arrow of time like a top - resulting in an entangled sound agglomerate that is transient in contradictory senses: with both a fleeting, elusive aspect as well as the intermittent sharp time differential. 

THINKING THE THINKING OF GRAFFITO 
"(Music slowly fading out…) What to do when one gets asked to write a description? It is in this question that the space of the circular drawing of Graffito appears. Music accompanies, but always traces and presents itself as a metaphor; the words, the sentences are tragically peripheral, to the point where they, not knowing where to place themselves, constantly miss the show. It’s impossible to get out of it, the metaphor waits for us, stalking us and asking for its clarification indefinitely, like a demon on our shoulder or a virus in our stomach: what did you have to say? "Express yourself!" It would be tempting to say anything about it, but it would be unbreathable, the request will always be made, against our desire, from its periphery, in front of its law. 
So Graffito is a gift to our inability to say anything. It is there, its gaze passing each day, more and more alien to us, multiplying itself, weaving itself, becoming what we would never have believed it, like a child becoming ineluctably stronger than his hosts, his parents. But the gift remains, the murmur never ceases: infinite-generosity. We read cards and here’s what was written: "smog powder blindness endless sun of a land like no other". Cards force you to shut up: gratitude-à-la-John Cage. "Isn’t it that the description will be the projection of what we would like to project? Naturally, the answer is simple, are you moron? — I guess, but at least I feel the warm wind melt around my hand and my shaved skull, like in a car ride (where the smell is a fine balance of honey and tar), and I can not tell if this feeling is close to The Metaphor, its reality or to a polyphonic laughter I’ll never ever seize. It’s better now, isn’t it?" (…The lulling music is still playing from the terrace, immaturely.)"

Graffito

Buy // tape & digital

Corporation - Herpès At Coachella (GEN037)

Recorded live at the Bleep × store in Dalston 15th December 2018.

bleep.com/bleep-live-mix-brainfeeder-lapalux

On Saturday 15th December as part of the Brainfeeder takeover we invited Lapalux down to our store in Dalston to play an intimate live set. Just coming off the back of a recent tour, and ahead of the show that weekend at Brixton Academy hear him test out some of his expansive, euphoric and post-apocalyptic electronica.

@lapalux
@brainfeeder

Bleep × Brainfeeder - Lapalux - 15th December 2018

Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson

you bashful catastrophists got another thing coming
it’s nothing
for ever and ever

overeducated
now pockets of knowledge are tethered together
your mind is a helpless fly in the web of the never-remembered
does that make it harder to write?
your reason is wrong
i hate that i know you forever
i hate how i have to feel your weather on my skin
i hate how you also think that you should be dismembered during one of your incredible lie-ins

give a fuck if you wish you were that crustacean in Mainsqueeze
slack cig drag
thinking that you're queen of the harpies
your references do not collide
we are all online
the rest of us are better for it

you bashful catastrophists got another thing coming
it’s nothing
for ever and ever

they could zoom back camera
you’d still be reading lines
shit that you did in the day would still feel like a dream come night time
your work would still be aggressively meaningless
when you’re your own boss
i think it’s a test
i think you should ask the real cost
‘cause if you were really ready to die
you’d be ready to stop chatting about it
deadly
the bop’s a trusty weathered face while you’re shrowded
mythical top
worried your rust’ll spread and that you don't deserve it
you know you don’t
you’re everything you resist and worse
a curse when you look down at her
then it tears you apart when she says you look happier
you thought you never left one impression
like a ghost’s apprentice that got lost on the way to their first lesson
wondering if that’s a pang of hunger
but familiar feelings or cravings have not joined you asunder
there is no more implication or consequence
you’re a tiny little tundra
blinding whiteness
cesspit
i mean, who fucking wondered?

you bashful catastrophists

finesse the beat

i feel the twenty in my hand
i feel two twenties

tangled cables in my hand

these lumps on my body
this poison headache 

yous throatfuck irl ?? 
i don’t care anymore
yous throatfuck irl ??

when i let you tell me my name
i’m playing with you, cunt 
you tell me to get on the train
but i rumble already
then i eat shit up

i was done when being done was shit craic
and i’ve got the funds to paint your fucking black dogs back
to liver
liver and white
gold
mask
gold and white

if i save for a while

(get on a train, James)
nah, i’m staying

(yeah, get on a train) 

yous throatfuck irl ?? 
i don’t care anymore
yous throatfuck irl ??
i don’t care anymore
you married the government
i don’t care anymore

little boy
and a big girl

i’m a little boy
and a big girl
and i’m 'that guy'
and i’m a fucking cloud

zero people
zero people around the house

spirits moving now

i don’t feel less free under surveillance
i don’t need you fucking with my sense of embodied experience
i don’t need you coiling around
i don’t need the billow to bag me
and carry me up and down

yous throatfuck irl ??

a three part sort of remix of 'gec 2 ü' by @100gecs

----------

sitting all alone
and you call me on the phone
and you say “i need love” 

"can you get to me?”

i never say what i mean when i need you

----------

getting to me
crawling back and making it hurt

your power inside rocks me like a lullaby
but i can’t make my eyelids meet entirely
i’d beg you to not turn the light off if i could

but i have to keep apologising

hot pink-orange sunset leaching as the credits snubbed

i don’t think i fancy stopping tidying
but you made me shiny
already
in a box
you’ve given me my price
i wear a sticker
and cunts say it’s cute and it suits me

but i mean
fuck me
doesn’t this sound like a million things you’ve already heard?
struggling to know myself now
maybe i’ll believe you at some point 

i want to try

(i look outside)

(i don’t know if i can get to you)

i want to squeeze you and be you in alternating moments

(i don’t know if i can get to you)

turn the jar a bit each day so that the flowers do not lean to one side as they reach for the sun

looking for god for you was

----------

nah

your wisdom is a sun prism
i want a dental gag for when you get sad and go wind pissing
and when my big mouth falls short you’ll say that i glisten
but i’m honoured to be dripping from you
and shivering and listening
it makes me sick how we all want the same things
it’s got me thinking that being scared of just myself was nothing
but feeling cared for on a shelf is too something
i want to be played with and then left under the bed
with fantasies of you forever coming 

fuck

you get to me now

how’d you compose that beautiful silence?
i try it on my own and the dust steals my eyelids
i’m crushed under the weight of my pulse 
and every cell’s sighing 
i don’t want to tell a cunt they’re cataclysmic in my glacial context (I never say what i mean)
i want fuck all up next
i want to be making it hurt as i crawl back 
it’s like, i want to fuck but can't we read about it first?
no, don’t lie flat
everything’s train tracks 
and i’m the cunt with the ropes
twirling my fucked 'stache
Salvador Sally  
counting the bodies
if i've earned it, be honest with me
‘cause fucking myself’s not a big ask
you look at me like that's no task
and that’s all of me
that’s shit i don’t see
your touch, some kind of archaeology
and all but my bones have forgotten me

(can you get to me now?)

(i need this more than you will ever know)

i need this 

(someone has been sleeping in my bed)
the sweat
the ends
the dead

Crossing (for prepared piano)

Harry Gorski-Brown

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