this is a band called Lionel Peach. mess of a recording and i’ve heard the singer’s something of a harlot and a cheat, but there’s some decent emotion impact there. songs are prog-based for the most part, with imagistic lyrics and minimalist instrumentation. sounds like: brand new meets explosions in the sky. have a peek.
“[it was] written like a soundtrack to an imaginary movie with different ambiances, different atmospheres, different tempos, different orchestrations, and different instrumentation….When I make an album it’s always about nostalgia, melancholy in the past, and memories.”—Anthony Gonzalez discussing the inception of M83’s Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming
“Tell me, why aren’t we all like brothers? Why does even the best person hold back something from another? Why not say directly what we feel if we know that what we entrust won’t be scattered to the winds? As it is, everyone looks much tougher than he really is, as if he felt it’d be an insult to his feelings if he expressed them too readily—”—Fyodor Dostoyevsky White Nights
“Let there be spaces in your togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.”—Kahlil Gibran, from The Prophet, 1923 (via underthesunsalutation)
but i guess since it’s my job to answer and not to ask questions hereee…i find that in my experience, as painful as it ever has been, people can offer as much help as you can ask, and you can receive only as much help as you are wont.
and further the first step is the hardest (i think excruciating) but it is solely yours to make.
p.s. this is strictly do as i say not as i do, since i have positively none of my shit together whatsoever. but i’m verbose.
I had the strangest series of dreams, more like images last night.
Starting with bouncing too high, from floor to ceiling on a bicycle in a New Orleans convenience store
To a party with “fat” scenesters in my bedroom, where they refused to not smoke indoors
Then at Wal-Mart blacking out on liquor and waking up talking to kerrymcullen and buying records
Followed by falling behind David, breaking someone’s iPhone, and studying multi-coloured jeans
Then making friends with a thirteen-year-old girl named Chris and her sister after falling down escalators and spilling my pink cigarettes
Last, trying to order a coffee at Starbucks, and sidetracked by my falling shopping bags, so I accidentally stole someone’s chai and dropped that as well. In line someone asked me who my girlfriend was if it wasn’t Chris. Then I woke up.
I slept only about half an hour last night. I guess my mind was just running too fast and I didn’t really see the point considering I’ll be knocked out for the exciting parts.
Surprisingly I’m not all as terrified as I expected I would be. I strive for anorexia of the mind.
The one real advantage here, apart from the obvious fixing of my face and a story to tell, is the cleansing factor. I haven’t had any liquids or solids since 7 p.m. last night. And thank god, too considering how sick I was all day…
Oh, and if I don’t return remember me in diamonds. Mmk.