Sometimes, smell is the first thing you hear. Things rarely start the way they're supposed to, at least not really. Supposed-to, what kind of a brute is that? It's a name, a figment, a bewitching beast. Not all that magical though. The magic starts when you let go, when you cease to brandish your anguish as a weapon, when you cease to apply it to yourself as a fashion statement, when you conclude the circle of misgivings with an adamant and unfounded daydream. Sometimes, the best thing to do is to be totally oblivious until a roaring reckoning ignites a departure from the nostalgic grip into voluptuous saplings of unknown and unspoiled land. Sometimes, you need to forget to remember and sometimes you need to die a little first to come into being. Sometimes, you need to realise that all the wars you're fighting have been sabotaged long ago. At some point, you need to stop preying on the cosmos to give you something to forgive. This is our season. And it's the strangest one and the finest one we'll ever happen upon. Get to know your Bygone, take him for a ride. Sometimes. But never let him stay - no matter how familiar the whiff of his qualms.
Cloudchamber recordings edition #CC02.
Tape/digital available on cloudchamber.net