Hunter as a Horse – The Train
This sick this dark dulcet sounds like the thick coloured layers of homeless shadowiness inside you. Those dark pulsating, convulsed and aching, deserted mind enclaves, weathered enslaves, ropes around and under your threshold to feel, think, be, hardly felt, scarcely fought, those what-why-where-wars, what was; simply a dense heavy will to be. Evening, midnight, morning, a head on a platform, a stomach splayed out on the tracks, rails rung, more thoughts caught like transport in the city-circle-web, like stress in the creaky shackles of my larger intestine; taking me away, a song for the human, my illusive lurking ghosts finally freed, a mass-break out from my blood cells to my brain. No, me and my song; you’ll never catch my convict contents alive, “you’re going to have to run me over“. Intense, purposeful, dark sub-bass with bright lights, The Train by Hunter As a Horse, confusing the categories, beaten sharp like a knife, blurring, correlating, synchronising frequent lowly-inserted jabs with soft-voiced conviction. This is dissonance and propensity, natural and within me.
The song journeys, paints, the same vivid colour; some central city river in murky flames, the being-willingness as alive as burning-willingness. I’m willing to burn. All the deserted-mind-enclave it populates with beat and dark red, I am left with no ghosts of desire, written with no cinders of whir. The song alights where I left off, and it works well for a time being. It’s a precious dose of scarlet for any alien blue daze.