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Tropic Corridor

by Bill Boethius & Dali's Car

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Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone. Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead, Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun. Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can come to any good.
5.
Sleep on spikes of Unicorns! There is a knot in the wood, Like an eye, an eye of a whale, Or an old man, Or Odin’s eye. Plucked out and thrust In the side of the tree of wisdom, Yggdrasil Unicorn, Your shaft, your mind-shaft, sharp, Spears mine eye, Gouges into its iris, Spurting the blood of poetry, It trickles down and waters the ground. And all kinds of flowers and plants Upspring: toadstools, devil’s mushrooms, Nightshade, worms, snakes and Reptiles, squelching on the sod, Walk upon nightmares, Sleep on spikes of unicorns! Spikenard! [Lyrics by Bill Boethius]

about

The region changes, everything that we were used to becomes strange; colours, sounds, smells and touch become peculiar. Heat becomes cold and cold hot; and extremes neutral and vice versa. We live in vertiginous times where reality and nightmare become one. These sounds reflect that; in madness and death ... but there is also the triumph of the spirit - a spirit set free to remake the world in a new form ... or to die trying.

credits

released December 16, 2020

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Bill Boethius & Dali's Car London, UK

"The Dali of guitar noise".
Free improv,
Cinematic Sounds:
Strange Blues:
Cosmic Jazz,
Poetry settings,

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