Friday, September 10, 2010

Hopi Torvald/ Bryan Lewis Saunders Split

I'm happy to present to you collaboration #3, this time a joint effort between myself and Mr. Bryan Lewis Saunders from sunny Johnson City, Tennessee. Bryan's portion is a result of what he calls "stream of unconsciousness", rambling rivers of verbiage penned under the spell of hypnogogic haziness...sleep talking, friends....My portion on track one is a blend of field recordings and manipulated portions of sonic goodness already existing in Bryan's tracks..with a smidge of violin. On track two, i also threw in some recorder and synth for good measure.

Here is the transcribed text from what Bryan calls "Replicate":

You can bark
And replicate yourself
Or replicate what you
Whatever you want
Just not
In one oil park
For 50 cent
For everyone to see it

I eagerly want to be involved with me
But I just end up
Getting in the way

They probably just put zero in the computer
In the machine
Loaded everything up that they need
To start

He's fighting his cue
In about a month or two
Start shopping for opponents

It's a self-loading mechanism
Doesn't need humans anymore
Except to put in input and drive it around
Made Twitter
Has all the stuff for shooting electronic gods
And made Twitter's revenge
As a way
To queet sending
Of your great th
People are being too modest
Too revealed
Too kind
Spaced out
Too obnoxious with the mouth
Too uh

Right the Captain did it
So funny

Is a safety tool
A way of protecting the self
From things it can't explain
Things in the outside world
That's why I'm not protected anymore
Not really
Because in the fashion model book
I did everything
Makes sense and comes together
With who I am
And I don't need
To help fill in that picture

Get it here:

Hope you dig. And if you do, be sure to check out Bryan's live performances and recorded material, all of which is absolutely phenomenal.

The cover art is a picture taken at the edge of the cemetery at Tubb's Church of Christ, on King's Mill Road in Oakman,'s one of those civil war landmark cemeteries and my grandparents Erskine and Flora are buried there. Matthew and i once pushed this bully kid into one of the freshly dug graves.