who am I [untitled spell]

We were in the icy wastes of Antarctica

the crystalline lake of memory

and in those lonely days the world was nothing and the number we made gleamed brightly

like a star

a quasar

pulsing energy through space
and through time.

Memories & dreams dancing together.

The love of the past tense in future time.

Never in the present.

The memories of dreams and memories in dreams.

A place of re-encounter as a childhood island on adult time:

a place where we belong.
The silence.

                      What we are.

The stage where the soul can dance at her own pleasure.

Dumbo Gets Mad

2011 is off to a great start. This will probably be in everyone's 2011 top 10. Or top 3, or...

listen and find out for yourself. It's for FREE.

GET IT HERE

The Needle Drop : “Think of it as Flying Lotus’s Cosmogramma from a psych rock perspective.”
SlantMagazine : “Elephants at the Door is an inspiring victory of DIY determination”.
Nerds Attack!  : “It could be THE italian album of the year”
LoudVision : “You can call it post-Loveless shoegaze, lo-fi or dreampop. We simply define it wonder.”
Radiated Sounds : “One of my favorite releases so far from 2011″.
Blogjammin’ : “There are more highlights than I have space to highlight them”.
SputnikMusik : “Think Grizzly Bear, but more uplifting. Think Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, but less hippie”.
JamYourself : “Deeply underground and incredibly fascinating”.

their [MAGIC SPELL] is on me.

Annie Clark

como o vinho do Porto

"Annie Clark, the musician otherwise known as St. Vincent, projects an aura of eerie perfection-- beautiful, poised, good-humored, and well-adjusted to a degree uncommon for rock performers, let alone ordinary people. She's clearly not oblivious to her disarming qualities. On the covers of both her albums, her wide eyes and porcelain features give her the appearance of a cartoon princess come to life, and in the songs contained therein, she sings with the measured, patient tones of a benevolent, maternal authority figure. The thing that separates Clark from any number of earth mother Lilith Fair types, however, is her eagerness to subvert that effect. Her album covers may showcase her pretty face, but her blank expression and the tight framing leave the images feeling uncomfortably ambiguous. Her voice and arrangements are often mellow and soothing, but those sounds mainly serve as context as she exposes undercurrents of anxiety and discomfort hidden just beneath a gorgeous façade."

No, we love you.

MAGIC SPELL

Every magic trick consists of 3 acts.

1.the pledge [I will show you something ordinary]

    » magic words «

esterno-vísceras-fígado-pulmões-pâncreas-porco-ácaro-antílope-crustáceo-músculo-pálpebras-púrpura-vaca-unha-carne-aneurisma-vírus-cão-garganta-fémur-ânus-metacarpo-estigma-glândula-seios-sexo-gengiva-bactéria-língua-infecção-gato.

 

2.the turn [I'll try to do something more than ordinary with it]

   » magic dreams «

Por uma estrada estreita, o banana corre. Cospem-lhe. Escarram. Puxam de suas salivas, ouço-as a aquecer nas gargantas cheias de ódio. E cospem à distancia como se lhe endereçassem flechas em chamas, mas ele não pega fogo, só corre. Aí vai o banana a correr contra o vento com a massa óssea a estalar. Tem sangue nos pés descalços no asfalto. O vento sopra ainda mais forte, leva-lhe todos os cabelos. As marés agitam-se dentro do banana. Eu vejo-o transbordar água salgada. Sorri enquanto se afoga em saliva. Que doce o banana. Que sonho vermelho.

3.the prestige [Now you're looking for the secret but you won't find it. Because of course, you're not really looking. You don't really want to know. Because making something disappear isn't enough. You have to bring it back. That's why every magic trick has a third act. The hardest part, the part we call The Prestige]

» now casting the spell «

Bom dia. O nome que carrego escrito, reescrito e sobrescrito numa folha de papel. Na rua, a face apontada ao chão enquanto nos cruzamos. Um sorriso. Boa tarde. Uma cerveja pousada na mão. Um cruzar de olhos num sítio diferente. Longos segundos silenciosos. Eu sei. Longos sorrisos. Duas questões de resposta óbvia e nem mais uma palavra. Boa noite. Agrada-me. Por isso apanho e conservo todos os fragmentos mudos. 

O significado não está nas coisas mas sim entre elas.

É tudo uma questão de nomes.