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Saturday, 26 March 2011

SubVersion Stop 111: The Outer Life Of The Introvert: DuoTalk

Pick a card. Any card. Oh, that one? Miss twice: our cards. The industry way. And indie's J. Nicholson. So arrives Spring, giving us dispositions. Change or conserve? Tackling self-esteem - confidence. Our inner therapies. Natural humans know the score. It's to cause penalty, before Wayne Rooney kick-off.

Wayne's alright really. But attracts insecurity. Overpaid industry doesn't help. Yobs latching his movement = Origa-mush. Push turns riot. We've seen enough in street-sport. Innocents' get killed; more Rooney-ish news. Aspiring signings, punting contracts. Luckily in music, the soul-grabbers show their truest blue. The introvert in all of us is given its place to think.

Rewind 5 years: public SC convo with Naphta aided fire in me. The gist - everyone should have their own linguistic - label, entity. Unique voice, bluntly. You 'dun need Rizla to grasp dem idea. Vomiting pondweed - watch that. Research Drum & Bass, associated Electronica - we'd conclude: "When did integrity turn green?" Or "I'm afraid to go out, I'll get stoned". "He's not the Messiah."

Westies ain't naughty, by Tod's standards. "Get your-self a HE-RO!" bellows a Jesus And Pals fanatic - on South Park's pre-DVD, "Mexican Frog Of Southern Sri Lanka".

Jimbo: "My best friend (Ned) is a vegetable, and..." Jesus, previously, cuts the air. "People, shut the **** UP." They can't believe it. Then the ratings tail into beef stew. Powered by deceit, Jesus' exec. producer, creates unwanted antagonism. Jesus outlines he's never worked for cash. Still, he is yanked to compete with junk programmes, on rural Canadian television. The promise: more people will listen to him. Jimbo and Jim Royle could have a good chat there!

More prosaically, there's 'quakes in Japan, Libian masochism, posion-drone in Palestine. In early 2007, at a local Fundraiser, Palestinian youth care occured. Three integral sources: Africa, England, Asia. Organised by Oxford Improvisers, relief workers, inter-communicatives. The audience, and promoters, raised £2000 + that evening. It was truly magical. Critically, amplification - for commercial discordance. Ego-eruption of Matilda and Godzilla. But hey, Matilda could actually spell 'Fruit'. Zilla just wanted a Zinger Burger. Mouthwash!

Similar ventures to that Fundraiser, make Earth spin. Totally placid, no corruption. An: "Is (my) / our effort worthwhile?" Clean enjoyment. In neurology, telling others they're: ill, need help, et al, builds unconscious 'yes' nerves. Over time, subconscious thinking rationalizes it. That allows our consciousness weaning off misdirection, white lies and remorse. Partnerships bloom as greed cuts umbillical.

I have known many peaceful individuals over the years. Lots of them are where this blog originated from. The rest remain forgotten memories. Forgiveness, means, plainly, we're ably at peace in future. You might keep your friends for life. Perhaps they'll just stay on dubplate. Worn out after twenty tries? "The best things in life aren't things", states Kimo in the TDD-approved Hawaiian rules. If that's an endorsement, I'll eat Aesop's halo. "Pass 'em out to the pavement.". Feels great seeing sun, where 'Daylight' won't burn.

"Break the norm" sang Barney Morse-Brown on his wonderful "Pray For Me". He's been a big inspiration personally. Prior to reading up on his history; then buying tickets to his gigs, he was a rising star of my Folk scene. Barney plays as Duotone, utilising cello, guitar. And unmistakably delicate vocals. John Peel, possibly an extroverted self. A nice mantra deduced: I'd rather talk a load of bollocks, than talk a load of sense. Barney and John had the balance, a symbiotic solidity, and spiritual counsel, eternally.

Because - if your gut feeling is right, the sensible - me too, at times - look like a Gogs cast. "Baby's Swing" on YouTube, is a hilarious rib at '90s critical thought. The baby starts bawling - with no swing. Ends crying happily, with a swing. The family, expands...retracts molecular iron. Fizzing with crackle. Then, episode over. Onto the next cheap thrill, for the comedy era-ttic. Unless we have flea treatment to hand. Contemporary art struggles to thrive in contaminated space.

Communication suffers, too. People are so pent-up cloning Byzantine, impressing their pseudo-peers, that an Empire: websites, relationships, power of group intellect, offline or on...falls in stabs to outer thigh. Not even Spartacus can help with that; he's left the battle, served his lot. Whereas less fearful, i.e. Jamie Oliver, have attempted to breed counter-crash culture, in schooling suppression, biodiversity, and parenting ethics. Whatever mannerisms.

So let's put a new card on the table, from the intro to the extra. My SubVersion resolution. The swing to any King. I know I know, it might be Jack. There's heart here, though. A keystone of 17th Century card culture. Kings' and Queens' used Jack, towards occult murder. The Ripper mysteries, especially. Putting LSD in his lactic acid. I can't catch every bus either. Assimilated to scripture, where the King and Queen still reigned supreme.

Wherever you go worldwide, only solution is Macbeth. Shakespeare tears archetypes of presidency, ancestry; to pieces - reversing ecosystems. Via weight of neuro-transmissions, psychic trust, and Duotone's brilliant "Work Harder..." LP, maybe, in dreams or clear reality: one day you'll find him, their, her...collective birth into a new species - an "Outvert", as Polska might have it.

Off, out, up and under, 2011 will be better than the last days faced by every artist, human, and dream image, in existence today. It's time for change.

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