Gort seems to be on a phone kick. First with Selfie and now with this current song... I have to admit, it would make a good ring tone.

Ring, ring,
    the telephone rings,
but we're not near to answer.

Ring, ring,
  the telephone rings,
but we're not near to answer.  
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Gort Braggern makes his Chicken House Records debut with the song Selfie. Gort is expanding Chicken House Recrods into new genres with drum kits, synthesizers and music you can sing and dance to!
Yes, it is nearly Pop Music, go figure.

Got a phone in my hand
take a picture with my phone
  and that picture, yes, its gonna be of me.

Gonna twitter, Instagram it
swipe it right it will be the hit
    Cause it's really what the world needs to see.
 
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It's a day like any other. You're on your way back from the salon where you have just had your ears done so they are especially soft. The autumn air seems to sparkle and your nose twitches at the smell of carrot cake wafting down the street. Your ears stand up and turn round.

What's that you hear? "Thrump-de-dump... Pum-de-dum..."  
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Hippity hop
  the frog does plop
    o'er the lily pads.

'Tis a bouncing ditty,
  succinct and pretty
    that's bound to drive you mad.  
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While traipsing through Alaska, our recordist set up their mics on a hillside a few miles beyond a lake named "Mosquito Lake." You may be surprised to learn there are no mosquitos on the recording, but it is true, there are no mosquitos, they had been distracted earlier.

You see, when driving past the lake, our recordist noticed there were some people having a barbecue. A flock of mosquitos had been attracted to the smell of the grilling meat and some of them were trying to carry off the smaller children. While the adults were distracted protecting their children, the remainder of the flock was stealing the sausages & burgers right from the grill. Picnics in Alaska are not for the feint of heart.  
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It was a fine Spring day when our Intrepid recordist hauled their gear over to the hills west of Patterson, California. There was a spot where the hills opened up on either side. There was a stream chortling through the lush verdant vale and, in the bright morning, a variety of birds calling out to each other and making announcements.

This is the perfect track to combat those mid-winter blues, when the snow is up to the eves and there are only five hours of daylight... A refreshing and uplifting reminder that spring and al that comes with it is right around the corner.  
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Fierce and driving, Gravity Wave piloted by Gerluz explores the tidal influences of black holes & butterfly wings.  
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Sure you do... The anticipation of the ever-so-slow clock... The joy of the recess bell... The mad rush out of the classroom... ten or fifteen minutes of freedom... ten or fifteen minutes of swings, slides, monkey bars and jungle gyms. Running around in circles bouncing giant red balls.

All too soon it is over and you are headed back to the classroom.  
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Clarence Pfricht was having a bad week. Everything was going wrong. Everything always goes wrong. Everything had nothing better to do than go wrong because if they didn't go wrong, they would only go worse.

Some things never change. Clarence was quite sure that they never would change,I mean, why should they? after all, Clarence was Clarence and nothing good ever happens to Clarence.  
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The evening is an unchanging thing. The Earth spins us out of the sunlight and into the night and we pass through the luminal ombre of dusk to get there. And as we pass through the dusk the starts don't appear, they don't move across the sky... we, move beneath them as they shine in their seemingly infinite and unchanging poses.

It is distance, alone, that gives the starlight that placid and serene appearance. It is distances of lightyears to thousands of lightyears that tame the fierce radiance of our sun into the tiny glimmers that bejewel the night sky we pass beneath.

As we pass beneath, we should dance. Dance.... The days of our lives, our daily routines, our interactions with lovers and friends. Dance because it is the best thing to do and we have such a short time in which to do it. The evening will always be here, it is an unchanging thing, and we spin beneath as if on butterfly wings.  
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The Nouveau Guinea Ensemble steps in again with Savanoia. Perhaps I should say they whistle in an introduction that keeps you guessing until you land in the lap of of the sustaining beat that lifts a dance between two cantankerous clarinets a couple of floating flautists and a whole ensemble that takes you there and back again and then leave you out in a field..  
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Hold your thumb out and squint one eye. Move your thumb so it is hiding something in the distance.... try a car.   Now squint the other eye ... without moving you thumb... The car appears again, you're not surprised. Now open both eyes and look at your thumb.. The car... is it there? Is it not there? by changing your attention you can hide the car or not. That is an aspect of parallax.  
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