What

I watch the blinking line, wondering what it is I intend to do in this moment. Not much really, just a bit of a mental release I suppose. I find myself in a constant state of floating. I travel from place to place, not knowing exactly what it is I am looking for. Immersing myself, in whatever.
 I walk aimlessly, trying to find a bit of solace in rememberce of pleasures that can be found in the disconnect.
 I want to say I find it startling that I have found myself so utterly addicted to technology, but I'm not really shocked. I actually feel relatively numb about it all. I hear the passionate cries of people, chanting small quips of how to make it right. I don't know how I feel about it anymore.
 I know when I can find a spark of humanity inside of me, the embers seeem to be enough to ignite my compassion momentarily. I find myself driven to more drastic measures that I can't utter aloud.
 I feel trapped inside a digital box; I feel the sharp edges of corners, rounded with the need of narcissitc approval.
 I see signs, literal signs, of people who want change, yet sat on the sidelines as their fellow brothers, and sisters were crucified nightly, deaths glorified on television, in papers, next door, just within reach.
 I saw tense shoulders at the mention of corruption years ago, when I saw towers fall, and thought, 'Huh, that's what it feels like." I understood the world who similtaniously cheered, and felt disgust for the act itself. It was not terror, it was reaction.
 We are just reactions, atoms, reacting, pulsing, ripping through space. I don't know. Who does. I know I see a lot of beasts, dressed up in snazzy clothing, using opposable thumbs to shoot one another with guns. 
 Bang.

The Suicide Roller Coaster

                                                         The Suicide Roller Coaster

King Machine

Photo V. art courtesy of the Deep Ellum Foundation.

Twas a night of a particularly vicious massacre, that the king, so impressed with the mouth that could present death as victory, basked in all his glory. He took in the sight of slaughtered trophies. Heads sawed raggedly from their bodies, and blood, deep black; glittering in the midnight moon. He felt an intoxicating elation, and grabbed the cold, gold, handles, to the the universe. As he opened the door, he savored the scent of decomposition, ascending his being. So proud was he, that brought a nation to its knees, by the simplicity of complicity. He closed his eyes, and whispered, “I am King Machine, no one will ever conquer me.”

People at Parties - ReBoot.

PEOPLE AT PARTIES

Photo Courtesy of Bex Wade Photography

For those who are yearning for that emotion that so seamlessly binds your soul, and mind with its beat; and those who are searching for that time when music spoke directly to the bloody member referred to as the heart; I have the just what you’ve been fiending for.

People At Parties climbs inside you like the first day of summer, and revitalize the dance that’s been sleeping within. They breathe new life into a familiar place, where passion reigns supreme, and we are all willing subjects to the beat. An impressive arsenal of vibrations laid out on shiny tracks; PAP grabs you out of your sleep. They shake the dust off of your eyes, transforming it into glitter, worshipped by the sun. Their music is pure electric love pumping through your veins.

They have slid in, and pressed execute all. Bringing back a generation that helped shape the music industry that molded every facet of the creative world, and infused a sense of worth in sound. The result, orgo-electro.

It will not be long before they will be pumping through air, and fists in the clubs. Snap a break, and get some perspective, As they Say, they’ll blow your mind. People at Parties for your indulgence.

Brandi Carlile: Something in the way she sings..

Photo Courtesy of Monik Schiller. www.blinkofi.com

In days when all that seems to flow through your speakers is the synthesized notes of brainwashing corporate agendas, also known as Hollywood to the stars, you find yourself becoming numb. Good music is traded like barters along the road of hard travels, and only the strong survive. Then there are moments where a gift comes along, packaged in beautiful lyrics, and a soulful voice. In this case the gift is Brandi Carlile, who is a reminder that true artists survive under the shiny bubble wrap, and still find the strength to carry on the message of passion to all.

The lights dimmed, and to the rise of voices of anticipation, Brandi Carlile enters the scene. With the air of Elvis, the soul of the Indigo Girls, and an in process canvas that was uniquely hers, the stage welcomed her entrance. Her demeanor invoked memories of Idgie of Fried Green Tomatoes, and she smiled with the side grin of Marilyn Monroe. She moved forward, and as if her every move was in sync, she pulled her mouth closely to the microphone, and greeted Dallas. The voice that exuded was as if a Cuban cigar was laced in silk.

She began to sing with the intention of a poet, speaking from the heart of the connection, which exists amongst us all. She enchanted the audience with her songs that weaved together the stories from where they were inspired. In a move that has long become shunned from the music industry, Brandi unplugged her fellow musicians, and herself, and shared a divinely intimate moment with her audience. The unexpected surprise was enough to etch itself into the hearts and minds of all who were there to share in her music. What Brandi brought to the table, was a nicely aged, fine glass of wine, for all to share, and embark on this journey together.

What can confidently be said of this incredible woman, is that her predecessors would be proud, and that one day in the future, she will be noted with the greats

Do yourself a favor, and take the time to meet Brandi Carlile.

Diving into The Dresden Dolls

Photo courtesy of Photobucket.

Your head hits the pillow, broken light reveals a perfect view, and then you fade. An instant later, shades open and just left of heaven, are the Dresden Dolls. You wake up, and sucking your brain out is their incredible live show, stimulating you into an orgasmic seizure. They enter your life with power, and a no apologies approach. My pen taps to the beat of the drums, and I feel it a crime to review their show mid concert, yet my hand possessed, cannot stop the profession of my love for the Dresden Dolls. I haven’t been this moved since I was covered in dust. Their songs are twisted lullabies that hide in the shadows of echoes, sashaying their way into your subconscious.

The Dresden Dolls fall gracefully into the power of the music world, and stamp it with righteous tunes. Beneath halos of light, the strike of keys pound with passion. Amanda’s fingers make love to a KORG with force, and Brian’s drums intertwine with the energy, blowing minds. The Dresden Dolls invigorate your senses with substance, reminding you that being a part of live music, injects you with life. They are a change of temperature, making your cold heart, hot with passion. They contribute frequency to this life, the kind that stays with you, and makes you go back outside with a fervor that the average person would dub as lunatic. They invoke awesome sauce, slice it, divide it, and separate it in a way that race, gender, and creed, are non-existent; the only thing that remains are the dancing dolls. They let you know that you are here to groove, and what better band to do so. Go find out more about the animated duo at The Dresden Dolls.

Lose your mind with Girl In A Coma

Photo courtesy of Photobucket.

The crowd chants as the screen rises, Girl In A Coma enters with a roar, and sultry vocals bleed into the microphone infecting the ears of the fans. A slow beat matches your own heartbeat, then the voice howls, and haunts you. You weren’t sure how they eluded your playlist for so long. The band beats, and uncontrollably your body moves and sways with each chord change. Intermittent views of an enchanting band capture you from the first note. A sharp intrusion to the mind pulsates throughout your entire body, and love is inevitable. Charm, combined with deviance is renewed, and flashes of a Sinatra like seduction takes hold. GIAC rips through all cultures, genres, and taste with a dose of life, and old school, that melt a bitter heart, reminding you that music really does heal all.

The Drums and bass would have Bo-diddley grooving. GIAC becomes the temptress, seducing you into the late, great, reborn passion of a live concert. Bite hard, and play harder, these ladies are a dose of shock therapy back into good music. Go submerse yourself in all that is GIAC at Girl In A Coma.