JULY 2013 - Interviews Coming Soon!

Look out for upcoming interviews with  Kristen Ban Drake, Robert Beveridge, and Mitchell Ribis. These three performers will be sharing their thoughts on changes in experimental music over the years, as well as exciting current activities. They will explore how they perceive the relationships between language, sound, performance and ritual.

SURVIVAL OF THE LOUDEST III

THIS SATURDAY - JULY 28 - FIVE PM TILL CLOSE

NOW THAT'S CLASS

11213 Detroit Ave, Cleveland, Ohio 44102

• THIRD INSTALLMENT OF ANNUAL SHOWCASE/MIN-FEST WITH RETURNING ALUMNI AND NEW FACES-EARLY SHOW 5PM! $5 DONATION FOR TOURING BANDS:

DEAD PEASANT INSURANCE (+ PAULINE LOMBARDO)
MURDEROUS VISION
ELECTRIC BAAT
BRIDESMAID
FASCIST INSECT
SLUDGETHRONE
PAPER MICE
MDFL
EXTREME NOISE TERRIER
POSTURE
NORTHERN AGGRESSION
GHOSTBREAD

the ok vastness

of Duende power.
Power turning, living in wheels,
chakras, yantra, pujas, mantra -----
the seed breaks open - the tree
things fall apart
the Oak
look deep inside your bread to the grain to the seed to the worm
and look inside your lover's eyes - into the the seed of the soul inside
Durga says, look into me to understand your true nature and be free
invoke! invoke often!
seek out the true ecstasy
over false oblivion
blunted stunted
earn the ecstasy of true all-at-once-ness
burn the white fear clear away
is a slow burn paradox
the strength to savor the banal, the pain even
burns the white fear
clear away
faith is nothing-lost-ness
love is namaste
wheels spinning the dove and lion paired,
the lover and the dancer paired,
both honesty and compassion bared.

in the Malay language,
the only word that rhymes with sakti
is bakti
sakti is magic, enchanted and enchantment
bakti is devotion.

Sakti-Bakti

Houses

I walk past houses and I feel hit with things - maybe they are the subtle energies of the beings inside, or dreams of the past, or maybe just rapid association. The city I live in is full of doubles built in the thirties - streets from here to up Athens Avenue past Marlowe and Belle, Mars to Carabel Avenue and beyond.

I am still and the houses move past me - a street with little stubby trees, exposed and Lego built fifties fast. Then dense lush oaks, the temperature drops, and I feel the forties, the fever of the fence and the things inside the fence. Then I come to a street two miles away that looks identical to my street. The west side was built so fast - these cities built so fast. Like they knew our country would be begin de-industrializing by 1960, and they wanted to get folks lined up for the last and most massive American thrusts into the production machine.

I walk past and I ask the houses what's inside. Like strangers as lovers I wonder in passing what it feels like to be inside.

I walk past a yellow and brown double and feel bad parties and overhead lights and what am I remembering - is it the memory of the house or a memory from a past life or just from my earliest childhood?

I always dream of houses. I've been through all kinds of structures, and I'm ignorant, I don't know what things are called. Once in a dream, I sipped soup in a split level as the sun went down and felt gut level regret. I met my grandmother again in a vast ring shaped house and introduced her to my new husband, and we showed her our moonstone wedding rings and she gave me a crown. More, though, I lucid dream into the house I grew up in, or places with walls soft from mold or flickers in the corners or heavy with the Murphy's oil soap smell of still old death.

In walking and in dreaming, I'm hit with otherness breathing in houses.

Cultivaata 1

petting animal in order to
what kind of ice water in order to (no corpse)
burn the white fear clear away is a slow burn paradox
white part of the eyes gets in the blood is it
nothing lost
there's other eyes in those stones and
eyes in those, too
waving stupid grass
but it's green in order to
gasperate ah - the
the ok vastness of duende power
feel ah

vuk

Names that veil Name drifting over vast unlined lands: vrka lupus lobo vuk loup vlk ulfur vilkas drifting with the animals, taboo to say the true name until it's lost to the lands - call me by my true names. Serigala. Cicadas sits in a vinegar sitz bath drinking herself sick over and over again until her bones change into wood rotten wood. Not even the fondest soldiers can burn that rotting wood. I'll do a slow burn paradox and crack Cicadas out of the tree. I can do. This heat rash necklace is only the beginning. Wolf is not wolf but a veil for only the beginning.

Roman J Leyva Interview

Here is the second in my series of interviews with artists who use words, sound and images. I asked Roman J Leyva, AKA Plague Mother, how these forms interact in his creative process, what experiences have recently inspired him and if he would share a few lines.

"I've always found myself particularly vulnerable to words and visual art. They tend to create emotion within me. My choices and explorations in music, on the other hand, is more often a reflection of my emotions. So, oftentimes if I am writing or working on music, I am meditating on words and images that inspire something in me.

I have to say, the past year was a very tumultuous one, personally. I dealt with a great deal of loss and frustration. As my works are often outlets for negativity more so than positivity, this showed through, I'm sure.

'I've got glass in my foot. How'd it get there in my cement shoes?'"


Thanks so much Roman J!