The Crystalline Hidden Seas of Lostocean - By N.L. Belardes

I'm spinning Lostocean's new CD Douse the Choir... it's 12:18 am.
This makes for two new CDs in one day.
Of course I had left it in my friend's car
and just got it back this afternoon...

Right now all I can say is...
amazing. But I need to write more...

Let me think...

Go to World Records right now.
Break down the doors, figure out the alarm code,
But leave money on the table as you leave.
You will want this CD.

Rip the CD from the package,
and run to your car.
Put it in the CD player, and drive.
Drive until the morning breaks
over your dashboard dust.

You know how some musicians play rock and roll?
They make simple sounds into great songs;
They use simple chords.
They arrange them with distortion,
drums and vocals that scream about
the pain of lost girlfriends.

And then some people are pure genius...

You know what a genius is, right?
Yeah, well there are a few in this band.

Some people call me a genius.
But then you haven't read my books yet.
And so you might think I'm full of shit.
But I am a genius.
I use words to build bridges of logic
across the void, to you.
And in a novel, there are many many layers,
kind of like a lost ocean song.
There are so many you won't even know they
are there. You won't understand them.
You won't care about many of them,
even if I were to tell you about them.
But those are the ones that
get you the nobel prize.

The genius of lost ocean...
You can hear it in the musical arrangements.
The genius is there...

You can feel it in the keyboard-piano moments
that weave like a forceful narrative...
That take you somewhere else;
into the dream of music they create
as a unique experience for each listener.
It's locked in the swirl of song;
the music dances like the spark-lit
fire that rages, twisting into the heavens
from a bonfire that is the music itself...
The fire, the smoke, the drums, the piano,
the flames, the sparks, the build-up,
the fuel, the heat, the mix, the crash of wood,
the melody of unexplained complex piano theory;
that I don't understand, but hear.

The poetics are in the music.
And right now,
I can't even explain
how I feel...

This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on Sunday, May 22, 2005. You can leave your response.