Free pay what you want

How the caged muse sings!

Is this the apocalypse you wanted?

A return of the 'record in a day' birthday EP/album that I haven't done in a couple years.   

Marred by near catastrophe as the forward strap screw on the main guitar decided to remove itself from the guitar mid-take - I kept the song anyway.

Fire for effect, motherfucker

It all began in 1584

An autumn wind ever blows in, leaving a small pile of dust.

That which is lit cannot be stopped.

Lest a record not be kept (2019)

Meine böser schwarzen Spiegel, komm!

The silence recedes, and the broadcast recommenced.

A last dance before dawn

Beware the call of the night in the desert

Echoes of once-was

If you weren't there before the beginning, you won't understand.

Control through Time Endures

Recorded on site in the Mojave desert with minimal gear - one amp, one guitar, one microphone, one eight track recorder.   All effects courtesy what was onboard the Boss Katana or the Zoom eight track recorder - no outboard gear, synths, or pedals used.

A ritual record as much as a musical one, to commemorate the anniversary of the passing beyond this mortal coil of my cousin Jack Whiteside Parsons and the monumental Work he did in that desert both mundane and magical.

For the one I have been pledged to for twenty-three years now, and forever.

The Dawning Comes

Weltanschuung bei nacht

Aires beyond aires

Execute the Queen of Diamonds protocol

Such is the grating, slicing interplay of space beyond time.

Inside The Vestibule Of Time

There are no words.

There can never be in such moments.

Recorded live in three passes - there are no synths, post-production wizardry other than stereo panning (and that minimal!) involved.

There are no words

Shock and awe, thumping with the helicopter blight.

Far beyond the seven veils

There are things which cannot be said, as the blackness sets in.

The preparation and the sacrifice are one

The carnivale of souls has none

Is it the apocalypse you wanted?

Your distress is my delight

There are so many layers and they're all fallen apart.

Such is the unravelling of the Well of Worlds.

(Psyche, Arno Breker)

The many deaths of Brixton Towne the Third

There is only one way forward into orlog.

Choose ye well

The bite and the dance and the embrace of embraces in microtime.

Her kisses always did have teeth

When the lacquer's dried and the buffing begins sometime after the last watt dies in the last transmitter at the end of days, I will not be sorry.

Did what had to be done.

Did what had to be done

Something dies every time the echo stops

He salutes in farewell and steps into the briny deep

Deadlight

Six score and three sixty five out of line

Sometimes everything you've been told is a lie.   

Only the sound of truth remains.

Their desecration will not be forgotten

You weren't there, but you may have heard the stomping in the woods in the mist.

We ran together in the night

Two of the same exact model guitar and their brother walk into a bar.

Amplitude modulation crushing delay sweeps in and demands a dance.

Such is the way of the fading cosmos.

He who does not love what he has made is not

In the distance, it can be felt but not known.

Such is the righteous riot of the mating of the stars.

The savagery of the third

Live January 24, 2017.

A meditation on sound, fury, and the echo that destroyed the silence.

The crashing weight of the first flaw

Live May 25, 2016

To Mega Pan Pan, Autopan pan pan.

Abusing the spacial time coordinates by program alone, no hands on sliders - somebody asked about automatic envelope panning.

Dead by sunrise down

Live September 24, 2017.

Fire in the boiler, death in the heart; there is no sky-sight in the darkest night.

The hierophant: lost in trine

Live December 1, 2017.

Let the hellshine in.

Lament for the river, lost and found

A blackheart's confession at dawn, as some things are never forgiven.

The adulterer's knee

We kept watch over the wails and the wall, and tossed the corpses one by one into the depths below.

Duet for zero, the morning.

Vril: on keeping Silence in the palm of the hand

Live March 31, 2018. 

The name I knew all along, and her song led me home.

It's just her dream by the river

Duet for the mood hanging on the mountaintop, and then there was rain.

As loud as the room can stand.

It is still a November of the soul

It was as the vision foretold: a shaking veil dance, wisps of steel and smoke aflame in her eyes, raining down from the mountaintop.

A machine of rainbows and flame

Death in the water, fire in the aires

Live August 31, 2018.

And in the aires, a mother cries over children lost in war.  She will never forget, and cannot leave.

A mother cries over broken toys

A dying gasp, and a heave into love

LIve September 26, 2018.

What I could have been, I have always been.

And she has always been there.

Promises kept, again.

The terror I have always loved

The keening of the spirit in the clouds is real - crying for release, for vengeance, for reparations.

Live October 6, 2018.

Or, an ode to automated on-off sync'd switching gone awry.

Dance, and ride the damned

Before the black mirror, before the crack in the world, it was as one Angel foretold.

Sometimes, in searching for a library, a home is found.

And some times, a garden grows

Not often, but enough.

A victory garden in the aires for a time prepared.

Live April 22, 2019.

A garden writ large on the body of the star

Live May 1, 2019.

Somewhere off the darkness of the mountaintop, the wicked way comes.   

Oh, the wicked way.

There are roars of war

From "A True and Faithful Relation", as recorded by Dee & Kelly, May 23, 1587.

"I am the daughter of Fortitude, and ravished every hour, from my youth.

For behold, I am Understanding, and Science dwelleth in me; and the heavens oppress me.

They covet and desire me with infinite appetite; few or none that are earthly have embraced me, for I am shadowed with the Circle of the Stone, and covered with the morning Clouds.

My feet are swifter than the winds, and my hands are sweeter than the morning dew.

My garments are from the beginning, and my dwelling place is in my self.

The Lion knoweth not where I walk, neither do the beasts of the field understand me.

I am deflowered, and yet a virgin; I sanctify, and am not sanctified.
Happy is he that embraceth me: for in the night season I am sweet, and in the day full of pleasure.

My company is a harmony of many Cymbals, and my lips sweeter than health itself.

I am a harlot for such as ravish me, and a virgin with such as know me not: For Lo, I am loved of many, and I am a lover to many; and as many as come unto me as they should do, have entertainment.
Purge your streets, O ye sons of men, and wash your houses clean; make yourselves holy, and put on righteousness.

Cast out your old strumpets, and burn their clothes; abstain from the company of other women that are defiled, that are sluttish, and not so handsome and beautiful as I, and then will I come and dwell amongst you: and behold, I will bring forth children unto you, and they shall be the sons of Comfort.

I will open my garments, and stand naked before you, that your love may be more enflamed toward me.

As yet, I walk in the clouds; as yet, I am carried with the winds, and cannot descend unto you for the multitude of your abominations, and the filthy loathsomeness of your dwelling places."

The Daughter of Fortitude

Bubble, bubble, toil, and the work of wickedness.

There are things on and about this earth that know all things, even how to launder pilfered intangible things.

She knew how to launder lemons

That space beyond spaces, of which I could not speak.   

Oh, my angels, I understand.

Take me home!

The black well

The question that vexes and provokes, burning bright.

(Live September 12, 2019)

How best to serve the Throne?

Live October 2, 2019.

That which is appointed ever is, and once woke, cannot be put to rest.

The fires, evermore.

Some things wicked this way come evermore

Sharpen the spears and light the fires, at dawn we go.

The march to war

Liber XXIV Odal vel Agricola

0. The Babe that becomes the Master is ever attracted to its Mother.
1. For he suckles at Her breasts with reckless abandon.
2. The time of the feeding, the time of the kneading and the rising, so long
practiced, all Knowledge, all Conversation, led him unto Her arms.
3. There is no other, there canst be no other, even as She bids him to sample
the bounty of Her earth.
4. Oh, how he SHALL sample that bounty.
5. And none compare to the succor of his Mother, the ripeness of Her loins.
6. For to that end is Her garden prepared.
7. To that end shall he raise himself therein, knowing each valley, caressing
each field.
8. For he may not have concern over the crop, but yea, ye Master of Hosts,
how he loveth the plowing thereof.
9. And in the stillness therein, the fields rejoiceth in his touch, yea, rejoiceth
in his touch.
10. For in that rise, in that scourging, in that passion, there shall be peace.
11. Within Her ever-fertile thighs shall the Babe become a Man, a Master of
Her Temple, lighting a fire which cannot be quenched except through
the blood that is the life.
12. And in the time of the reaping, the Master of those fields comes unto
the Man, who comes unto his Master, and drunken upon the wine of
the Communion of Saints, ever shall She rejoiceth when the Babe
become Man takes Her as wife.
13. Yea, takes Her as wife.
14. And thereby cometh hurt, and joy, and bliss.
15. And thereby cometh hurt, and joy, and bliss.
16. For in the tending of the fields, and rolling amidst the grapes with his
Master making wine, he gives unto her a child.
17. Yea, a child, without which the Master and the Man cannot be One.
18. In the Mystery of this Birth is the Magus born and brought unto his
Mother's palaces.
19. Yea, unto the palaces of that shining city, where the product of Her
boundless fertility is shewn unto all, and the majesty of Her creation,
now and forever, cannot be denied.
20. But more of that Mystery it shall never be said.

Liber XXIV Odal vel Agricola

A bad person with bad guitars playing really outside weird thirty years gone. Are we not men, or free jazz, or weird noise, or just clueless? Your call.

Recorded improv-style, pseudo-live (no edits to tracks, either it's good or the whole session is pitched), one pass at a time with old, forgotten gear. 

Synths courtesy mistracked guitars via 90s Boss snyth bass units (ME-6B etc), stacked glitchy fuzz pedals, and pitch-shifted harmonizing delay. Newer synthy stuff courtesy Roland GR-55 and all the old toys, plus various Roland keys and a Behringer DeepMind 12.

$29 LFO-enabled rack delays and ART gear from 1991, I love you.

And yes, I spend a lot of time with the red light on.


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Note on available material and web links:

This is my current sketchpad for music as I release it.  I've gotten lazy and generally only post stuff here these days.

Back catalog can be found at the links below.  There are 25+ full length albums, live sets, etc. for free available.  Additional songs available the Google music link (free) or Bandcamp link (also free, put zero in the price unless you're insane).

rfurtkamp

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