1. Jodorowsky‘s Holy Mountain
A film about a film, at heart, an idealistic pursuit of happiness via the machinations of a flesh-driven multi-linguist; the film itself as much of a trip as one can take through sacred texts and redefinitions of a sort of human atavism, a return to form, as it were, with just enough of a biological imperative to demand a like reflective reasoning process of its viewers (turn the lens on the lens as it lies).
While the consumption of organic matter with hallucinogenic properties is not explicitly recommended, the characters in which froth at the mouth and hurtle through dirt and earth which makes me cradle the thought of my…
2. Dove-brand(R) White Beauty Bar
Soap, which is the reason that I smell the way I do; Dove-brand(R) White Beauty Bars are composed of one-quarter pure (here undefined) moisturizing cream and are made mostly (that is to say the other 75%) from tallow, and but then washing oneself with the byproduct of another animal is a sort of comforting assurance of interspecies dominance anyway, a like 15 extra minutes of fame, which in the long run will not turn out to be a long run at all, and in any case in the mean time I’m willing to sacrifice a kinda sense of ecological awareness in favor of silky-smooth skin and a neutral, pleasant odor, which, with regard to the external world on which I unwittingly project things like smell, I’m obliged to dedicate a portion of my daily reverence to…
For engineering and manufacturing corrective lenses, which, when installed in a plastic frame, sit snugly on my head and at a comfortable distance from my eyes via three contact points (left ear, right ear, bridge of nose) and bend wavelengths of light such that objects are registered as sharply in-focus, the measurement of which directly correlates to functions of navigation, information processing, non-verbal communication, etc. (q.v. Marr, D. (1982). Vision: A computational investigation into the human representation and processing of visual information. MIT Press: Cambridge, MA.), which, in any case, does not necessarily coincide with any factors of my personal decision to pursue a career as a musician, though I feel a responsibility to admit my fascination with Elvis Costello and the style of eyewear for which he is most known.
Conveyor is a Brooklyn-based music project spawned by the fated juncture of a wandering tarot of musicians in Gainesville, FL. Was it kismet or perhaps a primordial summon which led these gentlemen purveyors of sound to individually tune in and migrate North to the bustling seductress known as New York City? Their retort is Sun Ray, a debut EP birthed and released in the warm embrace of Spring 2011.
Brimming with lucid, homey synths layered over acoustic guitars and harmonious vocals, they channel extraterrestrial bible-thumpers drenched in love, spouting acid-soaked pop unabashed to beam with the simultaneous embrace of life/death realities backed by a polyrhythmic, pulsing backdrop. A decidedly grand task indeed, and following a string of self-released, handmade EPs, they are releasing their debut full-length album in 2012 with Brooklyn’s Paper Garden Records, a testament to our nature and the nature of ourselves.