While you were sleeping in black
a gardener by chance
music for employee morale in industrial spaces
nothing but a solar myth
i can fuck you from space
nothing good will come of this
I am bent, I am near broken, I am frail, and I am the name of the Lord
Shoeless and bibled black
Understood rather than expressed
song of the god of nothing
Robert Furtkamp Pocatello, Idaho
A bad person with bad guitars playing really outside wierd twenty years gone. Are we not men, or free jazz, or wierd noise,
or just clueless? Your call.
Recorded improv-style, pseudo-live (no edits to tracks, either it's good or the whole session is pitched), one pass at a time with old, forgotten gear.