1. |
Blue Swan
03:15
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Muddy bulldozer clearing a space for the new church at a time when the river is bobbing with goat heads. Elbow celebrates the purity of dreams, an ignition of barley and godhead. Is wine ever enough? Desert wind breathing silver and stone… A swirl of dust, invite new blood in my blue swan. Ghost of a prayer and whispering sin, my blue swan. Of lowering seasons and gold leaf in a manger… Velvet bats home a sticky royal flag. A desert wind invites the land to fold, my blue swan. A breath of cold invites the brain to spin, my blue swan. The sand blowing cool under the stable, new rain dancing chill into the highlands. My love, invite precious gems, my blue swan. My love, invite gems to swim, my blue swan. The sand blowing cool under the stable, new rain dancing chill into the highlands, of lowering seasons and gold leaf in a manger.
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2. |
School House
01:46
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3. |
Autumn
04:41
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4. |
Mountain Rain Shadow
03:26
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In my mind it gets cold but never snows, life within mountain rain shadows. One day the snow will come and blanket thin roofs, which will cave in and the streets will turn to mud. But for now it gets cold but never snows, life within mountain rain shadows. Everyone has a private hell, but those flames keep us warm. Those flames keep us from freezing. In a land without rain it never snows, human bodies are mostly H2O. One day the sand will come swirling in wind. The reservoirs and wells will be filled. In a land without rain it never snows, human bodies are mostly H2O. Everyone has a dream of heaven, but our passionate dream is kept warm by those flames that keep us from freezing.
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5. |
Annapurna
03:36
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See the Himalaya soaring skyward, burst from the ground, frozen in air. Jagged claws of lava reach for heaven, turned into stone, suspended in air. Heed their wrath, revere the unleashed power. Explosions of old, in the mountains beware. Yet they stand in peaceful sleep and silence. Drama on the forest floor evaporates into the air. Annapurna meditates in silence.
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6. |
Folk Tune/Fishermen
02:23
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7. |
Celebrate the Leaf
03:14
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Celebrate the dead things lying all around the ground. Celebrate the dead things decaying all around. The leaf! The leaf is floating on a stagnant surface. The leaf is sitting on the water table. Just a dead appendage fallen from the body. Just a story finished, or is it? Check out the veins, look at the veins running in circle patterns. Look at the green, see the color throbbing like breath. Feel the veins. Touch the veins, inside them is sweet sticky juice. And underneath? Surprise! Water roots and tubes, the leaf is alive! Hit the sand running, rolling in on a big wave. Banged around like matchsticks in heavy whirlpool. Feel the life! The hawk swooping, the boatman rowing. See the walnuts dropping to be picked up from the ground. See the merchants hustling, magic dancing cash, the merchants lying. Feel the life beating in the temples of your mind. The leaf! That leaf sure enough be looking dead, but the leaf is alive!
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8. |
Whiny Art Song
03:19
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What did you learn from your last journey? What are you learning from this listening experience? What do you know about yourself and the people and places around you? Art has no answers, just ambiguous questions. I love my pain. Do you subscribe to a deity for comfort and order? Do you question the accuracy of the network news? Do you turn away when your mind feeds you doubts and unanswerable questions? Has a government lullaby ever lulled you to sleep? Art has no answers, just ambiguous questions. I love my pain.
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9. |
The Flight
01:40
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10. |
Eyes Expanding
02:41
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Rolling through the darkness, I will sing for you. Waking up to fantasies anew. Dreaming of sabers and turbans and kings from the glory days, following the footprints of the saints. Eyes expanding, hands and ears expanding. Gravel alleys twisting into a honeycomb. Sun pounding on decaying rubble. Roads unpaved, knives inlaid with precious stone. Smells of incense, urine, bus and spice. Clasping hands as we wander for days through the winding maze. I will brush the nape of your moist neck. Sweet warm hair hanging damp on your shoulder blade, intermingling waters in the shade.
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11. |
Dasain
01:44
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12. |
Driftwood
02:32
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Berries growing on floating driftwood
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13. |
It's Your Loss
03:17
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14. |
Latter Days of Rome
03:05
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Concentrate, fluorescent light, surrender thought, a world defined. At Church of Betty, airwaves are the medium of man and mind. Getting tougher to make ends meet, food prices soar as the cities decay. Passionate voices awash in the bog of the underclass. Rich people’s asses cork up the smoking volcano. Feels like the latter days of Rome, but there are places where everyone struggles just to survive. The sultry heat of subsistence, even those close to dead are alive. We are alive! I am alive!
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Church of Betty Brooklyn, New York
New York City's long running progressive world chamber rock ensemble performs innovative pop with rock band, sitar, bassoon, string orchestra and a chorus of soaring voices. "Brilliant" - Billboard "Irresistible" - New York Times
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