Absolutely magical, especially after reading your description... Totally ambitious prog rock but also very listenable and accessible in its own way... the melody in the overlapping vocals here is so good!

This is quite the achievement my friend, congrats on this great piece, one of my favorites of yours, shades of King Crimson but with a more modern style and sound palette

got lost in this...and it was alright 👍 ..nice job

what an eclectic epic masterpiece, l´m blown away! you interwove dark drunken beach boys chords with late king crimson, rock, flamenco etc, to an artistic tapestry  l loooove it!

An epic prog symphony, love how well all the different movements flow into one another so well, weaves such an impressive story.  Lyrics are phenomenal as well, extremely well written and performed!

COMPLETE LINER NOTES HERE---> https://mystictapedeck.com/bards/the-clock-of-the-four-winds/

The clock of the four winds is a tall-case grandfather style clock originally assembled in 1710 by an Italian astronomer and mathematician named Ricco Foscari, a direct patrilineal descendant of famed explorer, vintner and occultist, Cosimo Foscari. The magical properties of the clock were such that when its hands were moved and positioned in certain configurations, it would trigger remote viewing events which would be projected onto the glass panel cover. The clock was also rumored to serve as a sort of “beacon” used for summoning an other-dimensional being named “Desdinova” who acted as a sort of intermediary between detached yet interconnected causal timelines.


LYRICS:
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The chariots lie broken exhausted from war
The wheels rolled off in the mud
In the morning all good things are good
The sun warms up the mud

Stillness is raptured in all its arising
The seeds grow up from the mud
In the morning the dawn weighs a feather
The insects hatch from the mud

The hunger for sunlight draws flies to the surface
The babies wake up in the mud
In the morning from green murky waters
To wiggle around in the mud

Bones growing hollow, the gills turn to lungs
Gasping for breath in the mud
The fins turn to legs the scales turn to vellum
As feathers shake loose from the mud

Fly high, all you flying high birds 
While the warm western winds are beneath you
Oh you soaring high birds
The sky coming down to greet you
We’re all dying to meet you

The bird, the great swooping bird
Beak open, gobbling gold
Oh you soaring high bird
The north winds are growing cold
Feathers flush with colors bold

Now pretend you are the sun
Feathers flush with colors bold…
Now pretend you are the sun

The southern winds, the washboard clouds
Diving daringly during the day
Teetering upon the tip of the tree
The seasons will have their way
Tail feathers turning to gray

Scatter little birds, oh you tiny little birds
The easterly light is encroaching
Seeds spilled upon the ground
 With the end of the autumn approaching
And the seasons must have their way…

Now pretend you are the sun
And the seasons must have their way…
Now pretend you are the sun 

And the seasons must have their way…

Rider’s final horse has ridden
Puzzle finished, last piece hidden
Oysters chatter on evening tide:
 “I’m Desdinova and I confide,
I am the one you warned me of
I am the leak and the long lost love
And I am the one who will never lie
Deathless, I may never die
By lizard lens and crystal rope
You know me by my telescope”
Scattering stars in hand she shouts:
“The play is what it’s all about
Behind the clock with arms stretched tall
The script is on the western wall
Behold the light that never warms
You’ve been warned, I am the storm”

So raise up your chalice and toast to the moon
And sing to the stars as they flicker and loom
O! Irony! O! Tragedy!
Aching knees don’t fail me now

We slayed the vile dragon who lived in the skies
We bathed in its blood and we pickled its eyes
O! Devilry! O! Revelry!
If my friends could see me now

O! Bravery! Camaraderie!

The last lotus eaters recline in the sun
The race to return  has been finally run
Finality! Causality!
Swept away on swaggering swans

The Clock Of The Four Winds

AVANT GARDE | GUTTER PROG | GARAGE JAZZ

Some of our art is made on computers, some of it is made by hand. We are particularly interested in that gray area in between where you cant really tell. All of what we create here is one work laid out in segments, all connected. The Mystic Tape Deck universe is vast and explores all manner of adding meaning to our lives, while pondering meaninglessness.

Please consider supporting our project and helping us complete the work. We make books and cds that go with them. We also have a graphic novel and a custom oracle deck in the works. All part of the story.

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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"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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