Thanks to Gavin Griffith, my noise performance of LAIR, the newest soundscape from my Talus Field Project, is now online.

You can find the live recording here.

You can find the original soundscape here.

On a side note, I’m not sure how noticeable the original soundscape is in the recording. I also had spoken word during the live recording but this was not picked up very well from the mic in the room. The poetry can be read on Bandcamp and below:

1
Breath comes in the shallow recesses of a weak shadow
Rasp and wheeze the lungs are covered in the soot of yesterday
On being obscured through our last room, first portal out
Thick layers of skin meet thick shadow meet thick light meet
The ways we’ve covered our secrets in transparent tapestries
And the unknown are pools of blood beneath lungs an unknown aura
I remember emerging into freeze and starscape greetings
The frozen faces of brush and screen staring fades hours ago
What counts is counting along the frozen breathing to find reason
A longstanding plot of the human abyss, the stirs, the enter: and awake
This is not the time for flames of skin or considerations or doubt
Shallow breaths smear into tidal, cochlear like slug like opening
And if I could only hold open that breath like a gate, like a body ruptured
 
2
Cherish the fault of the machines of the past
Whose maw is but a signal like a beacon like a light
My worn green skin fluttering against red tides
And I can hear whatever crosses, echoes of the dead
Whose blight is carried through from solemnity to scream
This is the time where chances are given not stolen
Or stolen back: the blade and the gap, the slice now
And miraculous, the blinding of the bursts in my eyes
The sun that will open up the cavity within a past bloodied canvas
Shadows smooth as wrinkles of light of image become us
Ecstatic phalanx step, the stepping stone towards psalms of scree
Mutant-faced in the purple dawn a mouth opens my blood like a book
and the orange of night pulls us along a lash of a single ancient whip
 
3
It was not you I expected to see in the grime of the lair
A fantasy of talons stripping the cover off, core down to grease
As the pale green light flutters into some hot bath of grim molt
And cave’s corners become slime and cooled to ooze
It was expected that the landscape would churn again voltaic
And the disappeared bodies, forgotten, ashen sum to parts of flesh
And cameras to capture nothing, swivels forming the sick document
And the pin and the pop of loneliness in the pitch of tomorrow
While finger move over pebbles and fossils and closed eye sting
And the extraction is filled with the sweet lacerations
And the trek forward never yields, the creep through a Boolean goodbye
Days now elliptical and the liquid simmers in the lung’s recess
We cycle mind until we are one with the stories of the stone walls