Megalolaopus Closeus
She rakes her hand straight through my hair and snares a snag that tears the page from another muddled memory. And she is sex and she is love and she is pain and the palm of your hand bruised from your pink-gaffered tambourine. And I’ve been told a singer must die. I have the luck that it’s not the one Not The Song for the have of his companion makes a journey from Hamburg to Barcelona one of delightful delirium.
A birthday in Teufelsberg with Xisco and Alex, spooked and creeped by the forces that lay in a man-made mountain of rubble from Berlin’s remains after WWII and later upon put a radio tower for US Cold War espionage, in which the echo may very well drown your soul:
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jJ4EMrMd2xo)
A short piece by Analogsoul in Leipzig, original blogpost here (German): Ananlogsoul Blog
(http://youtu.be/3gqnNDGPV4o)
And so only a final show left on this tour, this Thursday April 21 in Vitoria-Gasteiz (Basque Country, Spain) @ Gora Taberna, 8:30pm.
Love to all encountered and traveled with: Xisco (The Singer Not The Song) [and his alter-ego Holgar…. don’t get mad Holgar!], Albert Mestres Portavella for lovely shows in Spain, the twisted rider jokes of Scott Rudd and Brook Pridemore, the delightful Rum Tum Tiddles, the enchanting Maia Vidal, the ever ever great Long Voyage, Alex at Die Frühperle in Berlin and all and all and all and everyone for ever and ever.