Music for Shadows by Jaan Patterson
"Welcome to the Gestalt and its relentless other - to pitch-black hybrids and binaries and their multiples of controled, deft musical noise and palimpsest speech, as each bubbles between the slats of playful overall collapse. Jaan Patterson offers the listener enough rope to gleen his narrative, via eleven neat numbered pieces, each dubbed '...from Shadows'. Some will dance, but only by the neck. Compulsive, structured and never less than going places. Recommended." -Anthony Donovan
“Deep shadow of fingers stroke the insolent metaphysic enactment of sonic annihilation which Mr Actual wears like old slashed torso moves made apart in collapsing overcoat pockets stuffed with chronomatic notes flats and sharks for injecting rigorous sublimity of tones scratch and tear at the ears/He is a man of fictions enchantment and rigorously disassociated from any absence for need/Will he be saved?/Can he tolerate his existence?/Notes outlining his last will and testament/Listen my little music after yr orgasm has subsided/worn out with fatigue of infallible intuition and watching moribund clocks the fatal beauty of the ringing alarm setts his teeth on edge who has the key to thinking the same unknown as the other who is not him but he recognizes envy in every glance/He is handsome and has millions of scratch iron clad rusting chords and the vision are of the solitudewhich wisdom marks/Typewriter the hiss sneaks then breaks up into blocks of carbon/The heart beat pounds /When he is drunk he kisses me and tells me he loves me deeply/He could be a culture of surveillance but what is the code of the notesbecause he has the eyes of love amidst woman/ the words Im big and shooting stars of contagiousdisease/Hammer thatvocoder machine Did you sleep thru the big in Japan/Performance is espionage/There are no innocent noises all are journey like an overnight to New York amphetamines drift from the ceiling ducts?/The voice is stretched tinechoairport calling for response to something darkandrigid/Layers of sounds always prepared to escape guilty of crimes against the State/Armsopento trust checking cheque account the obliterated years/snorting guzzling one hitters and double 0 hash caps the sounds repeat the fear of the power shutdown investments the members of the audience the mortgage/a volume pills potions royal jelly rescue remedies drying out soaking up of eyes radiant with the minute echo of desires to againright to the last drop five years of regret see thru the sky to focus on microbes to encompass ten minutes to logic do not resuscitate then erasure and the oceans/TO SEE/vibrating nerves in the disappearance slowend/mess of shitfluidsshit and drunken frenzy/scaffoldof cliff edge synth plays a tone beyond concert this is often used as a weapon against vulnerability to pitchweep for the loss of heaven topples to drown failing to please the victim of his assaults/He should have the bare peeling skin to drown the bare chest a joined the Army/He liked idea of killing bell rings zip the universal indiscriminately/More conformity mass of swirling hairs licks the symbolic breast of bottles/He oozed from the first wound he sweats over the lack sucks hard to get the last drop/He drinks the deodorant/the of motility expressed by his spermatozoa/Who would inherit his fortune?/Who would inherit it her it in/in it her/What nail polish remover he drunk the fluid from the Zippo Lighter/the sounds rumble is a man without his Japanese watch Tokyo standing on the keybioard bottles smash into the pointed virility?/Grown old fearing the fall in his ribcage Godette in pink fishnet pestilence from every more than the impact/Buthe knows nothing of optical illusions synthetic mutant missing in action pours The music encourages the sublimenudes distending a suit case His heart is always too hot or cold/and not because there is static on the line the signal is breaking his heart is hard but because it exaggerates its arctic up the futility codes to in determination that rides the polarity its torpid tropics its overwrought temperatures/ There was nothing suicide tonal risks into the entranced kamikaze envelope follower stiff with china in his life tonight and the waste drove him insane/Hewhite with floods of saw tooth fractures and illuminous peripheral doubtin the crouching position into the ethics of fatal arranged his CD collection in alphabetical order/He shaved his armpits with shovel of sounds/In disappearance dreams of violins falling in the sun as she Tokyo he played a Geisha girl/In London a Pakistani woman steps down from the boat she is alone detect prevent In NewYork a black woman but it was all the anticipate the terrorist maestro am I boring you she asks same in the end/” –Lee Kwo
Music for Shadows
Music for Shadows by Jaan Patterson is licensed under a Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 International License.