Conquer Again
City Lights

A granular tide brings with it the wreckage of war, fragments of a speech preaching crusade, bravery, and return. Elegant piano refrain phrases a poignant interlude to the spoken word and hushed echoes, poetic chants in the tide flicker like old film, memories and reminder of war. The ocean breathes sonorous horns, trumpets of war contentedly drowned in a primal sea.

Jihad. Jihad. Jihad. So are the shouts that lure us into the night, walking industrial mazes where city lights darkened by perpetual smog rising from furnaces and pipes underground provide little illumination, fuzzed as they are. Somewhere a piano is playing another refrain while from hidden ancient loudspeakers lost in the strangle of power-lines and poles above voices reach down with spoken utterances clawing at our shoulders and ears and we know we are not alone.

Heavy black vinyl in cardstock sleeve, minimally aesthetic, with images of a Futurists' tower: 267 normal editions coming with postcard and 66 on orange/transparent vinyl.

NYR