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Eddie The Rat - Lip-synching
At Zero-Gravity |
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catalog: csr011 |
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time: 49:58 |
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release: 02.11.04 |
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audio: 192k mp3 |
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All tracks written and
recorded by Pete Martin. No samples used. Quasi-mastered
by Steve Orlando. Album art by Pete Martin. ©Eddie
the Rat 2000.
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  Another
piece of the Ongoing Construct, this episode from
the file of Eddie the Rat finds Pete Martin and friends
in a most convivial mood. Because, in actuality, this
stuff is surprisingly adrift. That's not a bad thing;
I kinda like meandering now and again. And I really
like where these pieces wander. Whenever I think an
idea has been exhausted, I'm always pleasantly surprised
by new insight. This is the sort of abstract experimental
album that might well appeal to a more mainstream
crowd. There's enough "normality" (whatever
that means) to keep the easily distracted from wigging
out. And those of us who like to set our minds free
from time to time will set sail on this tidal wave
of thought. - Jon Worley, Aiding & Abetting
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Karen Schumacher :: violin (two, ten)
Bill O'Mahony :: guitar (three)
Steve Gigante :: mandolin (five)
Vonn Scott Bair :: voice (two, seven)
Heather Bradley :: vocal (three, eleven)
Molly Tascone :: voice (six, nine)
Floyd Labar :: voice (six, nine)
Ches Smith :: drums (nine)
Geoff Reed :: voice (one)
Dione Ardania :: voice (ten)
Yevlac Nad :: voice (three)
Dar Faradjoliah :: voice (seven)
Rahul Parson :: voice (seven)
Tim Parker :: !(+) |
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Lip-synching at Zero Gravity
Vaguely molding into deep sustain
and sitting in a picture frame
just sit beneath the sun
and you'll feel your body start to way a ton
in a bubble that becomes your mind
and you'll start to find
that you follow blind salvation |
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'Til Your Gone
You got hung up on a clothesline
while you tried to grow a tail
and you said it's by your won design
and you then began to wail
that you're goin'... 'til your gone....
Well you dodged a horde of locusts
and you gave them all a kiss
and you got a grindstone nosebleed
and you put it on your list
that you're goin'... 'til your gone.... |
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Calling Mr. Stratosphere
Fell off my rock into a harder place
Overshot my load then wound up in space
inside melodic massacre and rhythmic decay
what's a boy to do with himself, anyway?
Guy in the mirror held me up with a gun
Prom-queen Delilah and a prodigal son
inside a nothing much notion meaning never and
null
couldn't get me through or outta hell
Climbed up the mountain and I sunned myself
stoned
underwent certain extemporaneous processes of
transformation then went overload
became an ad-man prohphet with an annual fee
blinder's ain't cheap but the roadmap is free
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