Music - Jow Bates

Want for new sound,

Press play,

Broken tapes screamed abstract noise into the ether.

It's not listening.

isthissupposedtobewhatitwasiwaslookingfor?

somethingaboutthisdoesn'tfeelright,

it'snotreallymusicisit?

takeawayfromthelifeofbeingabrokenfragmentofwhatcouldhavebeenstuckinsideyourmovement

Unto audible light we stretch out mind and being

Stand between our dulcet tones

Another soul on spectral hearth

Together we are sound.

Music - Rowan James

I was sitting on my boat, it was grey but not cold, in the time of the year when spring, winter and the start of summer collide. The river was gently rocking. Rain was hi -hatting on the fibre glass roof and an occasional surge of tide caused a bass drum thud as the hull singularly beat on the river.
The gentle jingle jangling orchestra of boats rigging created a back ground whirl to natures beat.
I decided to brave the weather which was cold and drizzle icey but had a calming ferocious soundtrack as its effects moved various objects. A milk carton floated up the river and the drops contrasting on it plastic skin could be detected back dropped by those that plopped onto the river surface.
The wind was howling solo until a husky sweet melody rose from the depths of the murky Orwell.
Coloured bubbles popped the surface, as each one emerged and disappeared, sounds of a majestic variation were creating dark nautical break beats.
Now standing on the roof of the boat I looked down to see a chestnut nut glow of flesh, a glimmer of gold chain around a slim neck, and goggles on a head of braided black sea weed wrapped braids . She was swimming in a body popping sway. Loosing myself in the music I started free styling over directing my rhythmical message out past the edge of the boat. With each syllable I expelled into the night sky i could feel the words forming in the atmosphere darting down towards the dull glimmer of streetlights reflected on the surface.
As my words hit the water they formed into two tone black white spheres colliding with the colourful bubbles coming from the mouth of the mysterious creature.

Music - Borealis

We spill out to the forest nights
and fall against your dusted bars
pack our glasses with star-shaped cubes
and empty out the candled jars