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.

BARDS:Of The Shimmering Seraphs

The Forest Witch

The latest set I've put together, Gutter Prog. A dirty yet well fitted blend of Aussie Bush Prog, House, and Grime. 
Something very new and exciting with many more sets like this to come.
Enjoy.

Gutter Prog 24:09:2022 That Doof

"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

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

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

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:
-------------------------------
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

LoSo-Eco - Dark House - CCR 20th Anniversary @ Warehouse 25 03/08/2024

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
----------------------------------------
(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

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:
--------------------------------------
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.

--------

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."

LoSo-Eco

Over 15 years in the Tasmanian music industry, SheaJa-Vu/LoSo-Eco has focused hard on everything psychedelic and music related. This DJ/Producer is always striving to push boundaries and create something very new, whether its a new sound, new genre, or a new way of hearing an existing genre. For a decade he has worked the Tasmanian Doof circuit playing everything from house parties to new years festivals and other countless shows over the years. Now relocated to Brisbane to share with the world ‘Urban Groove’ & ‘Gutter-Prog’.

SheaJa-Vu/LoSo-Eco

Over 15 years in the Tasmanian music industry, SheaJa-Vu/LoSo-Eco has focused hard on everything psychedelic and music related. This DJ/Producer is always striving to push boundaries and create something very new, whether its a new sound, new genre, or a new way of hearing an existing genre. For a decade he has worked the Tasmanian Doof circuit playing everything from house parties to new years festivals and other countless shows over the years. Now relocated to Brisbane to share with the world ‘Urban Groove’ & ‘Gutter-Prog’.

Popular tracks tagged #gutter prog