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Old 10-07-2009, 10:07 PM   #24 (permalink)
****ER OF HOLES
 
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Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: Butt****, Nebraska
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#13






Sleep Chamber - Sonorous Invokations ov Brian Jones Vol. 1

John Zweizz is definately one for strange and/or silly ideas for projects, and this one is no exception. Conceived around the 96' or so, Zweizz got together with his buddies and decided to play the scooby-doo tribute gimmick. Who for you might ask? None other than Brian Jones, long dead and tooting in some subterranean woodshop project. The basic idea was to stay in Zweiss's house with candles burning, the shades pulled back, and improvising the **** out of the recording in hopes of invoking Jones with their trippy ouija bull****.

Or perhaps not.

The recording commenced, and for a week and a half straight the sordid group did toil and sweat up their unshaven brows. One drone coaxing over a sampling along with some fanciful strum, not unlike something you'd expect a grinning satyr to play. But even as they made progress, there seemed to be always some strange **** to happen unexpectantly. Three times, Sleep Chamber member Andrew Woolf would wake up and check the previous day's work session, and three times he would find tracks missing from the recording, not removed, just gone. As if they had never been recorded at all. Mr. Woolf would find this very unsettling much later, when reading an article about Jones, he found out the artist would spend late nights madly recording and erasing large numbers of sessions he thought mediocre.

The music is varied, sometimes building constantly without a drop to the downhill slope, othertimes feeling like some greasy 80's slasher flick just crawled through a bloodied thicket. It is the aural equivalent to meditating in the sewer. And for some it is quite the joy, and as such it sits quite well at the gate, watching Dante slowly exit the Dark Wood of Error and precede to travel into the pits of the damned.


It is time again,
Dying sunlight, birthing night
It is time again,
Frigid womb, dried leaves and mold
It is time, oh yes
Dirt cold and livid, worms pumping like veins
Clawing, tearing from mother's cold womb
It is our time, it is now
We have waited, we have hungered
Cracked, broken, and rotting
And now we have found our legs
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Last edited by Terrible Lizard; 10-07-2009 at 10:26 PM.
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