Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Phobeharmonics #1

Saturday 7th August - The Post Modern Swindon

This place was originally the local Swineville post office... now it's affectionately known as the PoMo having been converted into a groovy exhibition space with plenty of artist workshops tucked away in the catacombs...

Ah, the nostalgia of it all, ghostings of postal memorabilia can be found everywhere... some of it having been auctioned off to the postal nerd fraternity... believe it are not, all the back rooms still have their own bright red BANDIT buttons - LOL. Would have taken some pics but my old faithful digi-camera is ded, ded, ded...



Assembled for the night were Me, Toby, Epoch Sans and Andy P (who incidentally back in the day was involved with Psychic TV)… with an absent Bill Cox projected onto the wall behind us at various points…



No idea when we started ... but over two hrs of solid improv ensued... covering ground we never knew existed… even encompassing a few surprise audience interactions…





The concoctions that developed were sometimes curiously gaseous, and magickal... plenty of spoken word injections squirted in there for extra contrast... other times descending into bastardised kraut imperatives full of Bailey-esque guitar angles ... probably left the passing Foxies Extreme clientele lost for words... Virtual Bill’s sax-o-phonics worked surprisingly well across cackling violin and slinky scrape… got a bit carried away at various points feeding the feeeeeeeedbackkkkkkkk crows … screaming through the megaphone etc, crawling around loon-like…







The 'whisk king' finale... was a floorshow of percussive intent... a quasi-religious hilarity of tumbling church bells and commanding daleked loops... thinking of making it a house speciality, Weimar republic stylee…

Packing away, an audience (there wasn’t much of one) member said ‘we were the best thing he’d heard in Swindon EVER!!!’ luckily it won’t be the last either… the next sonic splurge commences early autumn…

Ironically, returning to Cloudboy HQ me and Tobes ended up off our faces on Scottish whisk(y)... I woke Sunday morning with half my head hovering outside my body like an umbilicalled dwarf star halo … everything flickering like a fly's eye of broken monitors... as comedowns go, this wasn't pleasant, for some reason my mind still thinks I’m twenty…











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