rfurtkamp

Live January 13, 2017. The pain is as the sea.

Some days, the hicks must be squelched.

What happens when a blender and a toaster collide in the bath? A little feedback, a little warble, a lot of sax, some guitar. Original track from Bill Boethius and Leonel Cardoso here: https://soundcloud.com/bill-boethius/wings-over-the-abyss

The stones have never forgot the words that made them whole. Duet for the crackling warmth of burning dust.

This fire is not for warmth in winter; it is of love and its remains, gone alight into the darkness. (and they said "It won't do high A, strings will pop left and right, you'll never find a use for it...."...and I love it all the more)

In restraint and breath, she speaks in the mountain winds.

One must become the whole of the river, the whole of the world, the whole of the space in a quest for the most base of things. "A ring!" she cried. (or what happens when a cripple on holiday replaces the high E with a high A string on a seven string, part two of two)

When the river runs dark and the longing carries me home. (or what happens when a cripple on holiday replaces the high E with a high A string on a seven string, part one of two)

Two for the seven, one for the old, and the winds howl in the night.

The times walked around the edge, the silver in moonlight not forgot.

When a trio of travellers finds the bodies heaped and the day a stalemate. A rare experiment in abusing DADGAD.

Duet for the lost and found, and the maiden flight of the robotically-enhanced 339.

A blackheart's confession at dawn, as some things are never forgiven.

In the mists, in that last half hour, drifting to nothing, it was Angie, Finnegan, and me.

There is a simple place beyond the veil, one last stop before the hells, and he tends the bar until the end of things.

Live December 1, 2017. Let the hellshine in.

When the spheres collide and the infinite crashes on the border of time, it's home.

Duet for another death warmed over.

The phantoms of tape linger on past their life, courtesy one erase head only set to pass most of it away. Duet for a gatekeeper at dawn, how she smiled and vanished as the darkness folded within her eyes.

Faced with another trip to the hells, the only way out was removing the dialysis catheter by my own hand. A reminder of what was, several years gone by.

A memory, on a cloud of memory and pain. A whisper from the time I failed to die.

A ghost in the Oedipal machine, come to roost.

Live November 13, 2017. When blood and shadows meet at first light, beware.

Original track by Bill Boethius, "Cry 'Havoc'!", available at https://soundcloud.com/bill-boethius/cry-havoc Live, one pass improv from an angry cripple with a new white angel who needs a leash.

"There is a sadness that lingers pondering such things, as the cost is already high, but there is no revoking what has been called. Such things are left to drift in the pool in the void, beside the shore where a tent is pitched, at the space where childhood begins and ends. I have meddled, and the Will has meddled with me; at an impasse where the world began to melt into formless void, and things...