El Sueno limited edition CDRs available
Current mood: happy
Category: Music
Terry and Marc are happy to announce a new album featuring two epic length soundsculptures and a third piece based on Tears For Dears "Mad World" featuring Sean Smith (from Terry's old band Trecento) composed and arranged for Prenzie Players' production of "Life's A Dream" by Pedro Calderón de la Barca.
El Sueño will be released on May 9th as a limited edition CDR in tandem with the opening performance of "Life's A Dream". Each CDR has been hand stamped and is unique in appearance: no two are alike! The CDRs are hand-numbered and housed in simple vinyl sleeves with a full color card. The album features 53+ minutes of new music.
A download version will follow this summer but will not include the bonus outtake track "El Soñador Desperta" which appears only on the CDR version. Only 42 copies of this CDR will be made available.
The limited edition CDRs are now available for pre-order for $7.00. All pre-orders will ship on or before May 8th. The album will also be available at "Life's A Dream" performances for $5.00. (The extra two bucks for online orders is to cover shipping and PayPal costs.)
Fuera De Este Mundo Loco
Current mood: eccentric
Category: Music
A preview of "Fuera De Este Mundo Loco" from the upcoming Prenzie Players soundtrack album El Sueño has been uploaded to the player on the MySpace page.
The track features Sean Smith on piano and mellotron and Terry on synths, orchestral instruments and the middle section piano noodles. The opening and closing movements are variations on Tears For Fears' "Mad World".
A Chronicle Of Lost Sunsets :: part seven
Current mood: peaceful
Category: Music
There was no sun any longer, there was only the cold and the pale, dead, shadowless light of a fading day.
The stillness was all-consuming. The cold wrapped around me like the clothes of a dead man. Near dusk on another anonymous Monday, I pointed the camera east, for the sky was only chalk and ashes from horizon to horizon above a world bled of its colors.
I was by a river, but it slept in stillness deep in an ice-blanketed bed. Near a backwater, I hid from the cold in my car and kept the engine running as my camera filmed the stillness. The car was parked in a city at rush hour, though there was no movement or traffic anywhere to be seen.
Later, as the sky began its slow bruising to periwinkle night lividity, I collected the camera from the stump (I have no tripod), paused to capture some photographs of the dead woods, and headed for home to compose music for an ice box. Music for an approaching snowstorm. Music of a dying piano, echoing and decaying in a frozen field, distant, distant. Music that would be like the tolling of a great bell in land where time has stopped.
An somewhere inside me it would be music for a dream of running away to a far, warm place and where I'd only have to remember the winter.
A Chronicle Of Lost Sunsets :: part six
Current mood: sad
Category: Music
The hills were hollow all around. October had ended and history slept in flooded graves everywhere, crowned with stone dissolved by time.
All those philosophies, all of those theories, all of those rich men and paupers, all equal, all finally without questions, without answers. Subjects became objects, people became waxen pupae in vaulted chrysalis, disremembered bulbs which flowered cold stone, eternal and ultimately forgotten.
The wind was frost as the dark blanket of October came down from the far white stars. As the camera absorbed these moments I wandered alone on the crescent limb of Halloween, the promise of morning too far away to even imagine.
There were no dreams. There was only the dark beneath the trees.
A Chronicle Of Lost Sunsets :: part five
Current mood: mellow
Category: Music
Beaches and sunsets are resplendent with their romantic cliché, of smiles and lovers. But I sat alone, brooding over my absinthe and "The Illustrated Man", dreaming of rocket ships, the old dusts of Mars, Venusian rains that never, ever stop, and trying very hard to not feel loneliness.
Beyond my book and my denial the great machine of the Earth's Ocean rolled and turned endlessly, green and wild as the drink in my glass and the thoughts in my mind. I grew older and imagined myself as a shell worn away by the sea until I was transparent. I watched as the fat-bottomed ostrich people, as distant silhouettes, picked up shells along the shore, and took them home to become forgotten relics of this day, this dusk.
The music in my moved with rhythms of cicadas heard from dark trees behind me. It hummed and roiled and rattled until the sun was snuffed in angry noise and color.
At length, a beautiful girl walked past, all smiles and youthful sunshine even in that newborn night and upon seeing her I was pulled from my dark reveries into a fresh perspective . . . a new light shone from within.
A Chronicle Of Lost Sunsets :: part four
Current mood: melancholy
Category: Music
The machineries of darkness, the expanse of shadow thrown in an alchemy of golden light. Coming up from the soles of my feet and to my inner ear I can feel the gears of the solar system turn on bearings of gravity and inertia. The water before me is a mirror to this strange device in which I exist.
And so I watch the subtle movements of light play across the sky in slow passing colors and I hear the music inside. It overwhelms the hiss of traffic on the nearby road and the sound of motorboats racing hard against the dying light. It is a slow, evolving, pattern of flux and faithful precision. It is the crépuscule implement turning all around me which clothes my spirit in its promise of stars and the coming night.
A Chronicle Of Lost Sunsets: part three
Current mood: sad
"I say nothing but I hear everything In my building"
The upstairs neighbors' bed growns in mid-fuck A firetruck streams past in the street below The tree loses its burden of snow and pulls leaves from earth, air, and sunlight The billboard outside shifts from a message from God to a plea to gamble on riveroats A bum screams his madness to no one and everyone From the tree a bird taunts the cat in my window I make another pot of Yrgacheffe
This one is a domestic dusk taking shape from my front window of my downtown Rock Island cage . . .
A Chronicle Of Lost Sunsets: part two
Current mood: mellow
A fusion-fired power station 93 million miles away slips behind a coal-fired power station five miles away. I can hear the droning generators from the fields, but the sun says little.
A mosquito dines on me as the car cools in the evening air.
happy
eccentric
peaceful
sad
mellow
melancholy