Get all 503 Muteant Sounds (net label) releases available on Bandcamp and save 90%.
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2. |
Crossing the Waterfall
03:23
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track: anastasia
by: mourning dove
lyrics: none
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3. |
Marigold
01:14
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track: marigold
by: mourning dove
lyrics:
o when i was old
a ruptured soul spread amongst the marigold
in the spring when anything
is anything or anything
i got very tired one day and i didn’t get up and nothing happened. the postman woke and he delivered on the other side of the door and the small animals crept around the spaces of the house and the cats raised their hackles about the neighborhood and a man spraying the fresh concrete shouted up at the sky that it was all done and painted but he wasn’t talking to god he was talking to another man and three old women in white stood outside a catholic church and talked in a very minute and particular way about very lovely small things and they grew closer and closer about the virgin mary and i didn’t get up and then the sun fell through the windows and cracks in my house (and through the cracks in my eyes, the cracks in my skull perhaps to penetrate some strange and ancient heart like an unlikely universe tucked in the darkening but this was not so and this was not so and this was not
we didn’t buy anything at the grocery store. we drove there and jack wandered through the aisles singing about someone who had died and i slipped a block of cheese into my bag and then we both walked out and didn’t say anything and a woman who worked there came up to us to wish us a nice day and jack said yes, it is a very nice day in fact though jack didn’t know yet that he didn’t exist and that i made him up merely for the purpose of detailing this brief and entirely fictional episode which is also so pointless) because in fact, i had never gotten up, though i was wide awake i dreamed through the hours in a dark and i thought i was dying and it was true, i was dying and i thought i was living, and it was true, there was nothing more horrifying.
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4. |
Platform I
09:39
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track: the platform i
by: mourning dove, connor, brenna, evan, danielle, jon
lyrics: none
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5. |
Platform II
02:35
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track: the platform ii
by: mourning dove
lyrics:
how you come so broken and bitter and like a lost island. i wake into a dream. we are always, in different ways, dying fills one in a while or in a tantrum of this is not i. maybe the deeper thing is that farthest from you, or maybe it is the truth. desperate shakes to be rid of oneself and back into the curvature of creation of fluidless fixation like the skin of the body of being no one. and of being no one? it is feckless, sad, a sunrise shamed into the storm cloud, a true undoing. if you were not, there would be no surrendering you. now that you are not, so you are, saddened but simple as the hole in the earth that is in the island that is the quarried gold that is the open wound that is the ache of the sky buried and then uncovered universe as holds, an ocean of sorrow. but then what is you, a whole world.
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6. |
About Jack
07:32
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track: about jack
by: mourning dove and cheerup
lyrics:
death is not at all in opposition to life i went grocery shopping and i needed to buy an apple not to eat to buy an apple because this is an example of an idea i had when i was grocery shopping to buy an apple but just because i was buying an apple (not to eat, for the idea) i decided not to buy the cheese because the apple and the cheese are two very different things and the absence of life is not necessarily death
i went to a grocery store with an imaginary boy let’s call him jack, jack and i went to the grocery store and jack started to cry in the frozen goods section but we don’t know why. neither jack nor i know why he began to cry in the aisle next to the frozen peas. i looked at him and i said, well i don’t want to get you down i don’t want to get anyone down and that is what got him down, so to speak, but i hadn’t said anything and the boy wasn’t crying so we went to buy some milk because that is after all, what we came to the store to buy.
i got very tired one day and i didn’t get up and nothing happened. the postman woke and he delivered on the other side of the door and the small animals crept around the spaces of the house and the cats raised their hackles about the neighborhood and a man spraying the fresh concrete shouted up at the sky that it was all done and painted but he wasn’t talking to god he was talking to another man and three old women in white stood outside a catholic church and talked in a very minute and particular way about very lovely small things and they grew closer and closer about the virgin mary and i didn’t get up and then the sun fell through the windows and cracks in my house (and through the cracks in my eyes, the cracks in my skull perhaps to penetrate some strange and ancient heart like an unlikely universe tucked in the darkening but this was not so and this was not so and this was not
we didn’t buy anything at the grocery store. we drove there and jack wandered through the aisles singing about someone who had died and i slipped a block of cheese into my bag and then we both walked out and didn’t say anything and a woman who worked there came up to us to wish us a nice day and jack said yes, it is a very nice day in fact though jack didn’t know yet that he didn’t exist and that i made him up merely for the purpose of detailing this brief and entirely fictional episode which is also so pointless) because in fact, i had never gotten up, though i was wide awake i dreamed through the hours in a dark and i thought i was dying and it was true, i was dying and i thought i was living, and it was true, there was nothing more horrifying.
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7. |
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track: i cannot hold anything in my hands any longer
by: mourning dove & danielle & evan & jon & les enfants
lyrics:
we went to vermont to observe a man who, in being, barebacked, betrayed
that he was a laborer and she said that she liked that his body said it was so.
while the boy who was meant to be in the woods cried because he was leaving her in the parking lot
outside the national guard and then we drove back from vermont.
he went into the woods as we made new living rooms and hung lights and rearranged the artifice of our very separate
and seemingly predestined lives and she said it was a beautiful day and it was a beautiful day
and soon it would be over but for the several motorcyclists as they made their way over the horizon and into the dusk of our lives that were not our lives any longer and i couldn’t hold anything in my hands any longer, and the sun grazed my face in its everlasting light as it sunk and sunk and there were large pockets of air sucked in and out of his chest as he sobbed which was not even uncanny, it was normal.
and tragedy was boring, and nothing made sense and we were wrapped like saplings around each other in a dead fog, grown into and out of the earth with only the sullen protestations of ourselves
but i wanted to feel at home when we reached the morgue or onward for the mass burial in an unnamed pit on an island where nobody can feel our unfeelingness, that is
and i have already encountered this, it’s true but these days mostly, i am most familiar with the bus station between here and maryland or is it delaware i know it when i see it, it makes my heart swell like a strange ugly beast blindly faltering its way through the orifices of mother earth who lies in coma through the toxic frenzy of our lives and she said it was a beautiful day.
and it was beautiful, i could find you in your house, your bones cracked and uncracked in everlasting light and i could look you in the eye, i could say hello.
i could run myself into the ground or a clear bottomless lake thoughtlessly, with all the world of dreaming held intact though i knew what it was i could not hold anything, not even the dying sun, or the moon as it fades from us as we lose the children of ourselves and so are plunged into ultimate undoing.
to know that you will and have and continue to exist is a miracle were it just a thought i had on a rainy day when i was walking by myself as the sky collected its darkness into a sound that was like quietude or even nakedness. and synonymously,that you and i come to the end it is no question but the barest certainty of my brief and unconscionable soul.
________________________________________
track: sofa
by: mourning dove
lyrics:
the porch in a deep late spring fog
when the leaves are now really out and full
of green temperature
and clouds that could be gathered like the word we once used to call them clouds before they were clouds
maybe you are there standing as you once did or maybe you never put on that record
anyway, it was all rewritten.
we used to sit on the wall far enough away to talk without you hearing but close enough to watch you play the harmonica
until i said aloud that how you moved was a sleep of a different kind and i drew another you who was not awake as the you you but in a scribbled sleep across the sofa where later you lay on the day you were i thought going away but you were not going away but have become something that cannot be felt
like a look and never any word
could we go then back to the station as it became a shrine for the thoughts of that year
passing as the snow was falling outside
after we left the place where we said goodbye on the sofas that have been moved away from the fire
without those sadnesses how could we have marked time
now we no longer mark time but still it moves through a body leaving ghosts?
what did you do with my picture on a plastic card where my face is worn away and the drawing i gave you of the girl who is not me crying or even your own portrait as i have kept the extra prayers you wanted to get rid of to something you may have no faith in? just to know if it was real that we knew each other for a little while
i am afraid you walk through my dreams nightly and in those dreams i walk through your house here are the remains of all who lived in a house
i could never really believe you exist
as that building still stands
with the trail to the tracks behind
and every night the trains still echo along the water as they did that night
as the landscape gathers into this or that or love
and loss more than ever could be held
i might know where to find you at the end of world
in this blessing which is to go as we started, alone
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8. |
Sofa
15:06
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track: sofa
by: mourning dove
lyrics:
the porch in a deep late spring fog
when the leaves are now really out and full
of green temperature
and clouds that could be gathered like the word we once used to call them clouds before they were clouds
maybe you are there standing as you once did or maybe you never put on that record
anyway, it was all rewritten.
we used to sit on the wall far enough away to talk without you hearing but close enough to watch you play the harmonica
until i said aloud that how you moved was a sleep of a different kind and i drew another you who was not awake as the you you but in a scribbled sleep across the sofa where later you lay on the day you were i thought going away but you were not going away but have become something that cannot be felt
like a look and never any word
could we go then back to the station as it became a shrine for the thoughts of that year
passing as the snow was falling outside
after we left the place where we said goodbye on the sofas that have been moved away from the fire
without those sadnesses how could we have marked time
now we no longer mark time but still it moves through a body leaving ghosts?
what did you do with my picture on a plastic card where my face is worn away and the drawing i gave you of the girl who is not me crying or even your own portrait as i have kept the extra prayers you wanted to get rid of to something you may have no faith in? just to know if it was real that we knew each other for a little while
i am afraid you walk through my dreams nightly and in those dreams i walk through your house here are the remains of all who lived in a house
i could never really believe you exist
as that building still stands
with the trail to the tracks behind
in a shamed solitude
we are dead, which is many things.
which is to walk from my empty dark house to your empty dark house
in the early hours before the light changes
and to sit in silence as we never do.
because living makes you so afraid
while i am reasoned sad and regardless
care for too many things as you do
putting all these syllables into boxes to be found again
in the evening, the insect orchestra will descend
you can put these summer berries on your plate and eat them
you can wile away this night and tomorrow’s too
you may be looking for me in these dreams
but i cannot be looking for you.
i am the ghost itself which is motionless
and can be felt only when it moves from one room to the next
in devotion to a love long since extinguished
or when i put a lock of hair in this envelope
and pitch it into the matanzas.
as the lights burn on, unfelt in some lonely corner of the world
in some starry corridor it leads nowhere but from one dream to another
i am not sure i’ll ever be able to pass time very well
as my grandmother who is never bored
there is no lyricism in this spring, blossoming
all the sweet boys are so full of shame if you look them in the eyes,
not even when we walk the garden at sundown
where once he sobbed
with these doorways which open and open
to wide green lawns of short thick grasses,
and the marble pillars between which once we lay
open to the world which when it became ours was useless.
it is like taking a walk with you
though it has been so long and it would be so hard really to-
take a walk- with you-
whereupon
i dreamt that i was telling you of a dream i had
in which i was meant to give you a lock of my hair.
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9. |
A Lock of Hair
15:12
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track: a lock of hair
by: mourning dove
lyrics:
i cannot say the you if i were to say you
whose kindnesses are particular, cannot be exhausted
who dares the audience along in every conversation
which then severs language into the familiar and unwelcome.
i cannot tell you you are lost as though
it were the fault of the spring in coming so late- overheated, willed by
dreams where thinking is flying
and there is always someone to get away from
not an escape but sadness so thick we could get (as threatened) on the freight which
was just beyond those january trees as seen from the rehabilitation center in 2016-
were you ever alone that year, you said you wanted to be alone that year?
you stayed through the sun’s long silences, these that spilled through windows of which there were so many in that prison of yourself which was profound
you imagined being taken out of your body, hoped for it every night
but to be on earth, it is to pretend, there are things to do here
as though this the city which has a fractured council and overlooks that river
wasn’t the universe’s thoughts all condensed
where time has its own station,
you might leave your feeling towards me
outside the door
where a stray animal recognizes
a few bloodied objects that could be
me, a squirrel, or you
expired as simple as the sun at this roadside
does that vulture still walk unbalanced in the wood in pursuit
i could, maybe, forget you,
in the coming years i might not be thinking
or taken up by others who live curiously
in the backgrounds of old films
anonymous and now passed on
like the grandson of a statesman who sank opiates
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10. |
Anastasia
05:23
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track: anastasia
by: mourning dove
lyrics: none
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11. |
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Muteant Sounds (net label) Florida
MuteAnt Sounds (netlabel) is in our 10TH!!!! year of distributing, sharing, posting and releasing the world’s finest
experimental, noise, free jazz, no-fi ambient space jazz free form sound ever recorded.
Started as a tape trading label in the 90's, website in the 2000's, Full blown netlabel in the 2010's.
... more
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This really is outstanding. I love how you pull us in and keep us there. listened through my pixel 5 and my Bose it's just fabulous, thanks for this. I'm hating the fact I missed the cassette.
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