A revolution is simmering in the underground, but it must be kept quiet. If the plans are discovered it could spell the end of the resistance and perhaps all human life as we know it.

Buy Our Lies

Whispers (A Campfire Conspiracy)

A showdown with the great white dragon, who has awoken from a thousand years of slumber and is hoarding of all the world’s wealth. Dragons are made to be vanquished but they never go down easily without a fight.

Raiding The Halls of the Money Kings

The faceless, soulless capitalist cabal offers its sincerest condolences and apologies for monetizing life itself, but the apology is hollow and meaningless, falling upon decidedly unsympathetic ears.

How might it sound if our global corporate overlords offered their most lizard-heart-felt apologies for any "inconvenience" their greed and avarice have brought upon our lives? We think it might sound pretty insincere. You know, like a gaslighting apology: "We're sorry you feel that way." There may be an official apology "issued" but culpability is nowhere in sight.

This song started as an innocent and good natured attempt on our part to collaborate with Holy Shitshow @user-649412648 who provided the original piece months ago which inspired this whole crazy chain of events. 

Next thing we knew, it was this whole song and the raft had drifted pretty far away from collaboration island in the process. We still used the piece in the song, and we are grateful for HS to be a part of it in the end. We think it made for a great foundation and love the ambiance it provides to the whole song. Riunite on ice, that's nice!  https://youtu.be/_onOllDF2GY

We dig Holy Shitshow's music deeply, so please hear the original here and we hope you show some love their direction as well: 
https://soundcloud.com/user-649412648/northwestsoutheast-first-wave-open-collab

This track also features some special guests:
On the flute we have Nick Collias
On the saxophone we have @metal-mark Mark Wand

Guitar, ukulele, bass guitar, omnichord, keyboards, melodica, samples, vocals, mix & master, Artwork by PS Perkins

Drums and percussion, mixing assist by R Thomas (@analog-shack)

We Apologize For The Inconvenience

Strange things have been arriving in plain packages. 

A couple weeks ago we received this tape in an unmarked post, we can only guess at who is sending these to us.

Side A is marked "4-12-85 Ashland" and appears to be a recording of a strange presentation and meditation service evidently held in "conference room B of the Holiday Inn and Suites of Ashland Oregon."

We know from our in-house Nazilic historian that The Cloak were doing some pretty intense recruiting seminars up and down the I-5 corridor during the mid 80's and early 90's, we can only assume this is a recording of one of these seminars from someone who attended. Still a lot of conjecture on our part as to the exact nature and source of this recording, but we thought some of our listeners might be deeply interested in hearing it. This was the only thing relevant on the first side, it was apparently taped over, it cuts away in the middle of a home taping of the Scorpions "Animal Magnetism" album.

Wait until you you hear what is on SIDE B!

Ashland 85 A

Ashland - 1985 (Side A)

VIDEO: https://youtu.be/W8TQxNqow7o

The video pretty much explains everything.

Now available via Bandcamp here: https://mystictapedeck.bandcamp.com/album/bards-of-the-next-revolution

100% of your faithful tithing supports our global outreach ministries.

We Are The Cloak!

Good mouth feel, aromatic bouquet. Contains the essence of everything.

Story/Poem: https://mystictapedeck.com/songs/the-vintner/

Guitars, Bass, 17 string Lyre, Vocals, Percussion, Programming: PS Perkins
Drums, percussion: R Thomas
Mixed by PS Perkins and R Thomas

===========================
LYRICS
===========================
it's in the air it's in the seed
it's in the want it's in the need
it's in the bottle

it's in the breath it's in the word
it's in the mouse it's in the bird
it's in the bottle

All we sow
All we grow
Everything which ripens in the sun

All who bleed
All with seed
Everything is soil when it comes undone

it's in the soil it's in the root
it's in the stem it's in the fruit
it's in the bottle

it's in the stars it's in the sky
it's in the truth it's in the lie
it's in the bottle

All we sow
All we grow
Everything which ripens in the sun

All who bleed
All with seed
Everything is soil when it comes undone

it's in the will it's in the feral
it's in the still it's in the barrel
it's in the bottle

it's in the heart it's in the mind
it's in the stomach it's in the spine
it's in the bottle

it's in the thorn it's in the rose
it's on your tongue it's in your nose
it's in the bottle

it's in the book it's on the wall
it's in the jump it's in the fall
it's in the bottle

The Vintner

The Askesis of Diogenes.
Yeah, we're literally writing songs about ancient Greek philosophers now.

https://iep.utm.edu/diogenes-of-sinope/

Drums, percussion, mixing: R Thomas
Guitars, Melodica, Bass, Vocal, MIDI, mixing: PS Perkins

The Poem: https://mystictapedeck.com/bards/the-cynic/

-------------
LYRICS
-------------

Adrift In a world that you can't comprehend
As you shuffle down sidewalks you used to defend
And pick through the garbage from parties you no longer attend

You know you're a stranger in still stranger lands
Where the crumbling monuments once used to stand
And they look at you funny when you ask them where to find an honest man

When you're gone, long, long gone

When they try to dismiss you, you piss on their shoes
As they fondle their falsehoods and call them the truth
If only the hunger in our bellies were so easily soothed

But you are not like them and you don't even try
No matter how rotten, you can't make them cry
You're as real as their shadows but they'll never understand why

Until you're gone, long, long gone

So you eat in the market and sleep in a hole
You drink from your hands now instead of a bowl
Stand naked before them to show how the years take their toll

And when the wild dogs come to nip at your legs
And the passing onlookers who expect you to beg
But your life was a promise and it's far too late now to renege

And then you're gone, long, long gone

The Cynic

Read the short story which accompanies this song here: 
>>>> https://mystictapedeck.com/bards/the-forest-witch-2/ <<<<

All instruments, mix and production by PS Perkins and R Thomas

LYRICS
---------------------
Fare thee well, on a bell, may I spill you a tear?
See the storm clouds approaching?
Hear the riders drawing near?
The bishop has sent forth all their bloodthirsty pawns
To capture your head, and to cast it to bronze, on a bell

Were you healing the sick? Were you raising the dead?
Won't you tell me, on a bell, what they'd want with your head?
Did you fly like a bird? Did you buzz like a bee?
Did you frolic with the faeries and talk to the trees?

On a bell, on a bell, from the woods where you dwell
Can you heal me on a bell, put me under your spell
On a bell, on a bell, ringing through your shady dell
Can you tell me, on a bell, who they're sending to hell?
On a bell.

Can you heal me on a bell, gaze deep in my soul
As we follow three hares down their dark and twisted holes?
And so, on a bell, as we go around again
The ending is where all beginnings begin

On a bell, on a bell, from the woods where you dwell
Can you heal me on a bell, put me under your spell
On a bell, on a bell, ringing through your shady dell
Can you tell me, on a bell, who they're sending to hell?
On a bell.

The Forest Witch

READ THE ACCOMPANYING POEM HERE >> https://mystictapedeck.com/bards/the-gravedigger/

All drums and percussion: R Thomas
Guitars, synths, scraping sounds, vocals, bass, lyre, slide lyre, lyrics: PS Perkins
Mix and master by PS Perkins and R Thomas

E'en that...

Who'll supply the shovels used to split the sacred soil?
And who will help the spirit shuffle off this mortal coil?
Who'll embalm the body, who will mummify the husk?
And who will sail the flaming ship into the drowning dusk?

And who will dig the grave digger's grave?
Who will dig the grave diggers grave?
Who will dig the grave diggers grave?
Who will bury them?

Who is going to drive the hearse and consecrate the wine?
Who is going to build the box from the gnarled and knotty pine?
Who will be the artifex to decorate the tomb?
And who will bribe the jackal waiting at the gates of doom?

And who will dig the grave digger's grave?
Who will dig the grave diggers grave?
Who will dig the grave diggers grave?
Who will bury them?

E'en that...

"In youth, when I did love, did love,
Methought it was very sweet,
To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove,
O, methought, there was nothing meet."*

But age, with it's stealing steps
Hath clawed me in it's clutches
Age, with its stealing steps.

E'en that...


*From Shakespeare's Hamlet Act 5

The Grave Digger

"The Roadside Ghost" by PS Perkins and R Thomas
Guitars, bass, vocals, synths: PS Perkins
Drums, percussion: R Thomas

Featuring Wendy DuMond aka "Bog Witch" aka @mamby-p on phantom background vocals

LYRICS:
---------------------

Out on the street, people you'll never meet
Struggling just to survive
You wouldn't want to be them, pretend you don't see them,
Just roll up your windows and drive

But the ghosts are not dead, and they're not in your head
They're just waiting right there to be seen
There's no way of knowing and the rowers keep rowing
Going somewhere that you've never been

Whoa, weary walkers, may I lighten your load?
The night is so long and you're hearing my song
As you sleep at the side of the road
Whoa, weary walkers! How may I lighten your load?

The days turn to ash with no cars whizzing past
Where only the strangers belong
The desert is wide, and then once you're inside
You are hypnotized by its song

With a guitar to strum, the ghost sticks out its thumb
But it no longer hopes for a ride
Just shuffles along to the beat of the song
To lie down by the river side, dreaming....

Whoa, weary walkers, may I lighten your load?
The night is so long and you're hearing my song
As you sleep at the side of the road
Whoa, weary walkers! How may I lighten your load?

With silence to ponder it's hard not to wander 
Your mind becomes vacant and free
No matter the cost, all who wander are lost
Swallowed up by the sagebrush sea

Your forever host is the roadside ghost
And it's broadcasting now on the breeze
You'll see there's no choice, there is only the voice:
"Follow me, follow me, follow me....."

Singing
Whoa, weary walkers, may I lighten your load?
The night is so long and you're hearing my song
As you sleep at the side of the road
Whoa, weary walkers! How may I lighten your load?

The Roadside Ghost

Now what may foeman's malice do to harm us? What, O Immortal, mortal man's deception?
Absorbed into the heart, be sweet, O Indu, as a kind father to his son, O Soma,
As a wise Friend to friend: do thou, wide-ruler, O Soma, lengthen out our days for living.
These glorious drops that give me freedom have I drunk.
Closely they knit my joints as straps secure a chariot.

Let them protect my foot from slipping on the way: yea,
let the drops I drink preserve me from disease.
Make me shine bright like fire produced by friction:
give us a clearer sight and make us better.

Our maladies have lost their strength and vanished: they feared, and passed away into the darkness.
Soma hath risen in us, exceeding mighty, and we are come where men prolong existence.
Fathers, that Indu which our hearts have drunken, Immortal in himself, hath entered mortals.
So let us serve this Soma with oblation, and rest securely in his grace and favor.
Associate with the Fathers thou, O Soma, hast spread thyself abroad through earth and heaven.

Rig Veda HYMN XLVIII. Soma.

--------------------------------------
Lyrics:

Deep under the mountain, the mechanical birth
Kissed by the sky, touched by the Earth
Emerging from the darkness to hold back the waters with a snake...

Drawn from the stone, forged in the flame
Hammered at the anvil and tempered by the rain
Points for the arrows to penetrate the scales of a snake...
To penetrate the scales of the snake

We sought the protector, we sipped of the nectar
We've gone to the light where we all live forever
We've gone to the Gods – what use are enemies now?
Oh, what use are enemies now?

These artifacts of war will outlast us all
In the past where we've flown, in the future we crawl
Back into the womb, what could they take from us now?
Oh, what could they take from us now?

Rustling in the reeds around the lake
Whispers of the law we never break
Oh, the many hammer strokes upon the stake
Eye of bat, tongue of newt, wing of snake
There is only the law.....

--------------------------------------
Drums, cymbals, assorted cookie sheets, rubbermaid 50 gallon trash can full of empty aluminum cans (the can can), keyboard/synths, marching, thunder can, misc percussion – R Thomas

Guitars, bass, string arrangements, assorted cookie sheets, rain stick, samples, broken zither, vocals, marching, programming, lyrics, artwork – PS Perkins

Marching, assorted cookie sheets – Sabin Thomas

Mixed and mastered by PS Perkins and R Thomas

The Smith

SUPPORT LABOR UNIONS

>>>>> VIDEO >>>>> https://youtu.be/cVy1UTIQ-S8 <<<<< LIKE & SUBSCRIBE <<<<<

Consider that this song is ten iterations of a pattern, representing the hands of the laborer as well as ten-based systems of measurement.

Credits:
--------------------------
PS Perkins: Guitars, bass, vocals, floor tom set 2, howl 1
R Thomas: Synth Guitars, backup vocals, floor tom set 1, snare drum, hi hats, howl 2
Mixed and Mastered by Mystic Tape Deck

Lyrics
--------------------------
I cut the tree and I hammer the nail
I fetch the water and I carry the pail
Harvest the wheat, and I bundle the bale

Fasten the saddle, the bridle and bit
I shoe the horses and I shovel their shit
I dig forever in the bottomless pit

I'm turning wrenches and I'm fueling the jet
My brow is furrowed and it's blistered with sweat
I'm on a boat with a hook and a net

I'm in the engine room, I'm driving the train
I'm climbing poles in the wind and the rain
I load containers from a towering crane

Repair the derricks for the men who get paid
I'm tugging triples up a slippery grade
I built the factory where the factories are made

I'm in the kitchen now preparing your meal
With hogs to slaughter and potatoes to peel
I hone the blade and I sharpen the steel

The Laborer

Atlanta’s “Bog Witch” and Boise’s “Mystic Tape Deck” announce the release of a new collaborative single, “Dogs of Chernobyl” to mark the anniversary of the Chernobyl Disaster.

Following the April 26, 1986 nuclear accident, the City of Pripyat was evacuated. The residents were forced to leave their pets (including domestic dogs) behind.  

Nearly 40 years after the accident, the descendants of these dogs are still living in the Exclusion Zone and a study is currently taking place. 

Scientists are sampling the DNA of the dogs. Apparently, their DNA is irregular in some interesting ways.

Wendy writes “I couldn’t sleep one night and picked-up my phone to surf when I noticed an article about the radioactive dogs of Chernobyl.  Right away it seemed like a song.”  

Wendy invited Mystic Tape Deck to collaborate with her in creating the sonic pallet for this song, the proceeds from all sales of which will be donated to the Clean Futures Fund. 

The Clean Futures Fund relies upon donations to provide medical supplies, vaccines, and food for the dogs living in the Exclusion Zone.  

Donate $1 or more to the Clean Futures Fund via Bandcamp and receive a download of the single: https://mystictapedeck.bandcamp.com/track/dogs-of-chernobyl

Find out more about the Clean Futures Fund:
https://www.cleanfutures.org/dogs-of-chernobyl/

Wendy DuMond: Lyrics, Acoustic Guitar, Vocals
PS Perkins: Electric Guitars, Bass, mallet snare, cymbal stack, midi
Ron Thomas: Drums, hand drums, shakers
Song by Wendy DuMond 
Produced, engineered, and mixed by Mystic Tape Deck
Mastered by Sid Hagan

https://soundcloud.com/mamby-p
https://soundcloud.com/mystictapedeck
https://mystictapedeck.com
http://www.okthenrecords.us/

Dogs of Chernobyl

Donate

"Dogs of Chernobyl" - Bog Witch + Mystic Tape Deck

Additional story here: https://mystictapedeck.com/mythology/the-mountebank/

Guitars, "townie" vocals, timbales, hand drums, drum kit, piano, toy piano, percussion: R Thomas
Guitars, "monty" vocals, melodica, omnichord, ebow, bass, percussion, toy piano, claps and snaps: PS Perkins
Additional guitar snippets: KVN Finch
Spanish guitar outro: Mark Wand

LYRICS:
----------------------------
(townie)
People in this town, they've all seen you hangin' around
They don't like it
They're not buyin' what you're sellin', standing' on your box and yellin'
They don't like it
Their sentiment is strong, and they asked you move along
They don't like it. They really don't like it.

(monty)
People in this town, one by one they sneak around
They seem to like it
They come and they go, they never let the neighbors know
That they like it
They may hide it from the rest, but their coins inside my chest say they like it
Oh, I think they like it. They like it.

(townie)
With your shell games and dice, I ain't tellin' you twice
I don't like it
They're down on their knees while you sell them your disease
I don't like it
With your slug milk and wine, they're just fish on your line
I don't like it I really don't like it.

(monty)
I am just a businessman, I make my living where I can
The way I like it
I am sure you understand, I'm just meeting their demand
And I like it
So there's no need to taunt, I just give them what they want and they like it, 
Oh I think they like it, and I like it

(townie)
They say that you're depraved, that you're sick and can't be saved
We don't like it.
And the medicine you sell isn't making them well
We don't like it.
So just get on down the road, if you'd like, I'll help you load
We don't like it. We really don't like it.

(monty)
My patience wearing thin, I take another one on the chin
Because they like it.
So I guess I'll up and go, take my tack and tents in tow
I don't like it
But your virtue is a clown, so I'll go to the next town
Where they like it. I'll go where they like it.
Where they like it.

The Mountebank

PS Perkins: Guitars, bass, vocals, samples
R Thomas: Drums, percussion, keyboards, kitchen gamelan
Mixed & Mastered by Mystic Tape Deck

More experience here: https://mystictapedeck.com/bards/the-technician/


LYRICS:
-------------------------------------------------------
The flashing light is indicating error, error
A wave of fear, a rumbling of terror, terror
Push the button, summon the repairer, repairer
The technician!

Arriving on the scene
Resequencing the gene
Talking to the machine
With a list of simple rules
And a tidy bag of tools
Who will save the helpless fools?
Who will save them? Who will save them?
The technician.

As the only unit who is fit to, fit to
The technician has identified the issue, issue
The virus is in the soft tissue, tissue
The technician!

There’s a bump in the road
There’s a bug in the code
A system overload
There’s a fly in the soup
A redirection loop
There’s a dupe within the group
Who will save them, who will save them?
The technician.

The mechanical voice repeating warning, warning
The broken beings all aborning, ‘borning
This cannot wait until the morning, morning
The technician!

With a flinging of the dung
And a twisting of the tongue
The ladder skips a rung
The clock has slipped a gear
With the deadline drawing near
Have no worries, know no fear
Who will save us? WHO WILL SAVE US?
The technician.

The Technician

This is an old song, originally written in 1992 or '93 while on a hitchhiking trip through the Nevada desert from Boise to Tucson Arizona. It took my friend and I eight days on the road to travel about 700 miles. 

The title is a reference to the two of us standing on opposite sides of the highway, willing to take a ride any direction as long as it got us out of there. It's about desperation, resignation, freedom, harassment, and finding beauty in the midst of extremes.

It is an experience I will personally never forget, and I have written the story once before but it was destroyed when a computer crashed and literally caught on fire before I could print it.

In the last few years I have started to try and tackle writing it again, and I stalled out a bit. Maybe revisiting this song will help inspire me to finish   documenting the tale?

You can read what there is of it here: https://twowaythumb.wordpress.com/

Ron and I originally recorded this song with our old band Godzoundz, but it was only ever released on a very limited cassette run. We decided a while back that we should chip away at re-recording these songs and try to give them their due as it was all pretty deep underground back then. So here's the first one of those.

Our basement studio flooded a couple weeks ago and production has been temporarily slowed, so we thought we'd trot out some of these oddities and misfits while we chip away at reworking our studio and getting it put back together. Hope you enjoy!

Godzoundz

Two Way Thumb

Collab w the great @Tea_are_sea (source tracks)

FREE DOWNLOADS ENABLED

PS Perkins of Mystic Tape Deck: Lyrics, Guitar, Robot Drums, Slice n Dicer, Salad Spinner, Snuggling Bears, Toenail Creams

-----------------------------------------------
Soundless syllables tumble from clacking keyboards
No breath behind them, no flapping meat of tongue
No hiss of air squirting through saliva moistened glands
Words hurled into the ether, never piercing air
Just a void of space between screen and brain
And endless war, all around us human suffering
Rattling guns spraying hot globs of lethal loathing
Led by lecherous liars, far removed in boardrooms
Rolling across their polished marble floors 
In luxurious leather chairs
Sprays of spittle, squabbling over jagged graphs
Submerged in sticky syrups 
Selling toenail creams
Stain removers, starchy stiffeners, snuggling bears
Glitter ponies gliding through morning scented meadows
Where the wallet fruit hang ripe, heavy and sweet with sap
Honey dripping from their checkbooks
Self appointed, self anointed deities, hidden dealers of death
Life affirming, fate confirming algorithmic determinations
Bloated words, puffy and gaseous, 
Farting out of flaring mouths
Exhaust pipes roaring, belching blackened clouds
The song of industry now ineludible, vibrational prisons
Noxious noise where a hundred years ago there was silence
Murmuring melodies of malodorous murder machines
Something to sell you, something to tell you
Coins to jingle gently in your pocket
As gluttonous gobs drip with drool
Leaving slobbery stains and muddy smears
Ground into the social fabric
By the twisting intemperate heels
Of four thousand dollar shoes

Tea R Sea: Social Fabric / PS Perkins: Four Thousand Dollar Shoes

A banned book fetish. That's our current kink.

Read the accompanying poem here while you listen: https://mystictapedeck.com/bards/the-librarian/

PS Perkins: Guitars, Bass, Vocals, Piano, wood blocks, programming
R Thomas: Drums, Wah guitar, shakers, cowbell
 
LYRICS
--------------------------
A secret knock, a hidden door, a narrow hallway
The eyeless guide sees us inside, watching us always
As we meander down the aisles, 
Rows of spines which stretch for miles
And we show our special card
On the scent of another shard

A vaulted dome, a musty tome, an umbrous alcove
A sacred space, a quiet place, a sunken treasure trove
Details infinitesimal
Dewiest of decimals
Ever stranger truth to know
As we squish the forbidden fruit between our toes

A deeper shaft, an ancient craft, a garish goblin
The icy stare, the purple hair, a memory maudlin
Going deep down in the mines
With a shining pick to grind
The librarian lights the way
Understands the game we play

A puzzle piece, a glob of grease, a rusted lever
A blazing fire, we never tire, we nurse our fever
Run our fingers down the crease
Gently comb the golden fleece
Read aloud the sacred scroll
Let's show these muggles how we roll

They cant stand you, they want to ban you
They want to sterilize and pack you up and can you
They prefer truth that's mass produced
Because they're lacking the tenacity to grasp you
So let me ask you: what's the bigger threat?
While we're waiiting on a bomb you haven't dropped yet
They'd rather burn you then have to learn you
Their little fingers are too slippery to turn you
The truth waits for us to dissect it
And librarians are here to protect it
So grab some glasses if you need
And climb atop the worlds' mightiest steed
We're gonna read until our fingers bleed
It's a seed, it's a need, it's an urge you gotta heed
It's a growl in your stomach that you know you gotta feed
Let's show 'em how to read!

The Librarian

PS Perkins: Guitars, bass, lyre, vocals
Ron Thomas: Autoharps, Drums

Production notes:
---------------------------------------------
Very early on we wanted to use autoharps on this song to create a sort of swirling backdrop, reminiscent of the harps in Indian/Bollywood soundtrack songs of the seventies.

Right away there were challenges because the song is in B flat and is not wholly diatonic to begin with, utilizing a chord built on the augmented lydian scale in the choruses. So rather than transpose the song to a more amenable key (since the chromatic bits weren't going to work no matter what key we used) we instead re-tuned the autoharp. Moving through the strings one by one we tuned them either up or down a half step where applicable to bring them into key. Where the augmented chord hit in the choruses, we excluded those notes so that the autoharp was filling the diatonic parts of the chords and omitting the accidentals. It took us several tries to get it right. In the end we arrived at a chord progression that could be strummed on the autoharp and the modified chords could be played with existing dampers.

We also tuned the lyre so that the top half of the strings included the chromatic augmented notes while the lower register of the lyre was tuned using the diatonic, so the lyre could play the melody all the way through both parts of the song.

The inspiration for this song was essentially fourfold:
--------------------------------------------------------
First, H.P. Lovecraft's terrifying necromancer Joseph Curwen (from "The Case of Charles Dexter Ward") who masked his true identity in order to thwart suspicion from his fellow townsfolk. He has many secrets lurking in his underground catacombs where he performs acts of necromancy most foul, extracting the "salts" of the dead in order to raise them at will and learn the secrets of ancient eldritch deities.

Second, a poem by Rudyard Kipling titled "En-Dor" which was a warning against the rise of spiritualism and the cost of communion with the dead in the early 20th century.

Third, the biblical Saul who traveled in disguise to visit a witch at the city of Endor in order to summon Samuel from the dead and garner advice on defeating the Philistines, but who only prophesies doom for Saul. Saul dies later the next day in the battle of Gilboa.

Lastly, the story of Odysseus communing with the underworld where he enlists the help of Tiresias to have a chat with the dead and secure for himself a safe journey home.

They all seek communion with the dead for one purpose: to gain knowledge which only those who have crossed over between realms might possess. 

Lyrics:
-------------------------------------
A mask may reveal what it’s meant to conceal
From those who are standing beside us
Armor of pride, so we learn to abide
By the monsters which hide deep inside us
The monsters which lurk deep inside us
Oh, how they scratch and they bite us
The monsters which lurk deep inside us

Only to know what the professor knows

Eating black bread, wearing clothes of the dead
The soil soaked in honey around us
For fear if we failed, leave the ogre unveiled
And it’s back in the grave where they found us
Back in the grave where they found us
Freed from the ties which had bound us
Back in the grave where they found us

Only to know what the professor knows

In the catacomb vaults, we extracted the salts
From cadavers to lengthen our youth
Chanting the names at the edge of the flames
And a mirror to show us the truth
A mirror which speaks only truth
See how it seeks not to soothe
A mirror which speaks only truth

Only to know what the professor knows

In the underworld maze, in the night of no days
Concocting the plan we’re devising
Much to endure on the road to En-Dor
And to snatch from Elohim arising
To snatch from Elohim arising
Snatch from Elohim arising
Snatch from Elohim arising
Snatch from Elohim arising
Snatch from Elohim arising

The Professor

The final track from our forthcoming third album in the BARDS series, "BARDS: Of The Shimmering Seraphs" 76 minute CD + 52 page full color book with original illustrations, lyrics, liner notes, and expansion poems. Each track is a major paragon from a custom tarot deck in the works. The album/book will be available in another month or so. Keep your ears peeled for updates. There will be SIGNS.

https://mystictapedeck.com/bards/the-dark-twins/

BARDS: Of The Shimmering Seraphs

The Dark Twins

While we wait for BARDS: Of The Shimmering Seraphs to finish physical production, in the meantime we are forging ahead with a new crop of songs for the next album. The next album will serve as a continuation of the oracle deck concept, featuring songs about "objects" - the first of which be this little song about the magical horn of the elusive and beautiful Aardvark Girl. It is also about a recently discovered strange dwarf planet at the farthest reaches of our solar system.

Gǃkúnǁʼhòmdímà  was discovered on 19 Oct 2007 at the Palomar observatory in California, at 9:09 UT. Gkunhomdima is a member of the extended scattered disc and is a trans-Neptunian object (TNO). Its orbit is inclined 23° off the ecliptic and is quite elliptical. It was knocked out of a normal orbit early in the history of the solar system, probably as Neptune migrated outward to its current position, which gives the high  inclination of Gkunhomdima’s orbit. However, there is no known orbital resonance with any other planetary body, except for its binary companion. Its ‘moon’, or secondary is called G!o’e !Hu (pronounced GOH ay KOO). Goeku means ‘horn’, or Oryx horn. And that takes us to a bit of mythology.

Gǃkúnǁʼhòmdímà is also the Beautiful Aardvark Girl of Juǀʼhoan mythology, who sometimes appears in the stories of other San peoples as a python girl or elephant girl; she defends her people and punishes wrongdoers using gǁámígǁàmì spines [devil’s thorn plant], a rain-cloud full of hail, and her magical oryx horn.

Drums and percussion, keyboards, backup vocals: R Thomas
Guitars, Mandolin, Melodica, Bass, Lead vocals, backup vocals: PS Perkins

LYRICS:
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Aardvark girl, come trumpet your horn
Bellow your clarion call
Summon your dark and impenetrable cloud
And let your hailstones fall

Are we just ants crawling around on the ground
Are we just termites in a crumbling mound

Scatter the poisoned thorns in their lane
May they tread upon those in their path
The stinging in their feet shall remind them
They’ll be dead before their next bath

Aardvark girl burrow down in your den
The night will be ending soon
The Oryx are gathered at the watering hole
And your face is in the moon

Are we just ants crawling around on the ground
Are we just termites in a crumbling mound
We are just ants crawling around on the ground
We are just termites in a crumbling mound

The Oryx of the Aardvark Girl

Ekasha Gada is the mace wielded by Lord Shiva, one of the three primary deities in Hinduism. According to mythological accounts, a single blow from the Ekasha Gada is said to be as powerful as being struck by a million elephants, emphasizing its immense force and destructive capabilities.

Guitars, Bass, Mandolin, Vocals: PS Perkins
Drums, Percussion, Backup Vocals: R Thomas

LYRICS:
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God Killer
World Eater
Thunder Breaker
Widower Maker
Ekasha Gada!

Storm Rider
Soul Slayer
Time Twister
Holy Diver
Ekasha Gada!
 
Space Bender
Life Ender
Eye Melter
Death Bringer
Ekasha Gada!

Moon Razer
Cloth Cutter
Dragon Brother
Chaos Mother
Ekasha Gada!

Horn Blower
Smoke Maker
Night Chaser
Day Tripper
Ekasha Gada!

Head Chopper
Code Cracker
Bone Chewer
Sonic Reducer
Ekasha Gada!

Fire Breather
Lava Seeper
Spirit Seeker
Energy Reaper
Ekasha Gada!

Earth Shaker
Sea Splitter
Galaxy Smasher
Planet Basher
Ekasha Gada!

Boulder Buster
Ship Sinker
Steel Bender
Mountain Wrecker
Ekasha Gada!

The Ekasha Gada

Some things belong underground, though they may emerge every now and then to feed in the night.

"The Busy Worms" is a sweet little bedtime story about things which wiggle and dance in the serious moonlight. So let's dance. But then it's time for bed.


LYRICS
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(What? Oh I guess I can tell you one little story. Ok, lay down...)

A wee little wiggle, deep underground
Turn of the shovel, see what we've found
Yes you can hold one but don't squeeze too tight
They'll squirm from your fingers and slip out of sight

Now don't worry darling, don't catch a fright
The worms are just hungry, they feed in the night
Slippery, slimy and hidden from sight
Twisting and turning they dance in the moonlight
Dance in the moonlight

The worms are busy tonight

Yes you can hold one but don't squeeze too tight
They'll squirm from your fingers and slip out of sight

The earth is no object, it's just passing through
They keep the soil healthy for me and for you
Slippery, slimy and hidden from sight
Twisting and turning they dance in the moonlight
The serious moonlight

The worms are busy tonight

Did you ever think when a hearse drives by
That you may be the next to die?
They'll wrap you up in a big white sheet
That covers you from your head to your feet
They'll lower you down in a deep dark pit
And leave you alone to rot in it
The big black bug with the big red eyes
Crawls in your innards and out your sides
The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out
They dance the watusi upon your snout
The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out

(Good night, sweet dreams. See you in the morning!)

The Busy Worms

We often do some quite elaborate percussion ensembles within our songs which can get a little buried under everything else we do. The aim of this release is to highlight some of the more interesting percussion passages in our songs, before you hear the songs themselves. 

Just thought it might be fun to feature these. 

This one has a drum kit, tabla, tambourine, finger bells, finger snaps and claps, and some crowd sound samples.

The Feathered Crown (Percussion Excerpt)

A re-imagining of an old Talking Heads tune.

After many generations of feeling like he is alone in the world and emotionally isolated, the Shining One reaches a sort of "rational maturity" where he begins to realize that his actions have far-reaching consequences in the causal net/temporal stream. After a brutal string of self-imposed deaths, he finally overcomes his longing for death and injecting misery into the world, he instead begins a new era of attempting to do "good" in the world.

BARDS: Of The Morning Star

I Want To Live

All you fallen down spirits, come rise from your stoned over graves
Come and dance to the firelight as it flickers across the walls of my cave
Stone grown to bone, intone simulacra whose shadows disconnect
Draw breath and draw pause to the laws of cause and effect

Nothing can breathe in this air
Statues of lovers whose eyes remain locked in a stare

Something is coming I can smell it on the breeze
Something which frightens the animal in me
Shot through the heart with your poison-tipped arrows
And the eyes of the eagle are fixed on the sparrow

Burning the maps and connections to lands long forgot
All the loose ends to be swept up and tied in a knot
Oceans of causes which ripple and steadily swell
All of us captured, enraptured, still under the spell

Nothing can grow in this soil
Earth has been salted and yet we unceasingly toil

Something is coming, I can hear it in the night
Stalking in the shadows with its eyes glowing bright
Sewn into our comforts, we do as we please
Treating the symptoms, ignoring the disease...

Something Is Coming

BUY OUR LIES

Wandering around in the wilderness, wondering when I’d fall off the edge
Watching as the goat slips and trips over the ledge
But besides the bloody bones, there was nothing that remained
Oh…landing on a landslide, insects slip and slide

Wondering around in the land of the lost, watching as the highlander
Searches in vain, with a subtle psycho-pathetic black candor
He seemed to have lost something at great cost, so he slaughtered a lamb
And cutting up the cadaver, he took a shower in the falls

Wandering around in the wilderness, through the eyes of a necromancer
As he digs up the remains of a long-passed ancestor
Skull, spine and hips, thigh bones and ribs were all that remained
Landing on a landslide, like insects we slip and slide

He crushed up the bones and mixed them with the soil left of the flesh
And with his blood, and that of the lamb and of the mountain goat
He was flying full of fire, spitting sparks, ever higher
Spinning on the threshold of the heavenly desire

As he gazes out over the grasses 
The stars form a picture, his light begins to flicker

As he soars up over the tower
Poles, charged with power
And sparks like stars in showers
He moves inside you, hunting you down

Rubbing

The pseudo mechanical creators inside the factory where humans are assembled and genetic materials are printed from the codex delivered in the fallen capsule.

The Importance of Taking Time Out to Create

The misanthropic urge is an urge of defeat, and the urge to be defeated. Of all our various trappings and flaws, our biggest mistake is in not believing in our own capacity for growth and kindness.

We Are More

Undergoing a baptismal rite of The Cloak might resemble something like this song describes. There is not much colloquial knowledge regarding the secret rituals of the Cloak, though many may imagine.

UroboroSoroborU (Part The Veil)

AVANT GARDE | GUTTER PROG | GARAGE JAZZ

A Multimedia Puzzle-Story Of An Immortal Being's Struggle To Define And Exert Their Will Upon A Wholly Deterministic And Ambivalent Multiverse, And The Strange Cult Who Loves Them.

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Greetings to you: readers, beaders, seekers, wanderers, wonderers, outsiders, rebels, fantasy gamers, freaks, mythologists, philosophers, appreciators, creators, perpetuators of beauty, coveters of mysterious objects, collectors of counter culture, the curious, the questioners, the unusual, the unique, the star children, the light workers, shadow integrators, diviners, alchemists, hermits, monks and popes, the saviors and prophets, the builders and destroyers of worlds, the old ones, the young ones, the rollers of boulders, the sun orbiters, the morning star dewdrops and twinkle toed dreamers of dreams, you mystic shining beacons, you crossers and denizens of the void, reality shapers, universe makers and underworld freaks.

"A prominent feature of avant-garde music is to break through various rules and regulations of traditional culture, in order to transcend established creative principles and appreciation habits. Avant-garde music pursues novelty in musical form and style, insisting that art is above everything else; thus, it creates a transcendental and mysterious sound world. Hint, metaphor, symbol, association, imagery, synesthesia and perception are widely used in avant-garde music techniques to excavate the mystery of human heart and the flow of consciousness, so that many seemingly unrelated but essentially very important events interweave into multi-level structures and forms."

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