Another semi-impromptu. Like the first, this one began with a complete improvisation, but the “semi-” comes from the fact that I edited it, overdubbed a lead guitar line, and played with volume levels and stuff to get it right.

Feel free to download and share. Let me know what you think.

C. Way - “Semi Impromptu No. 2″

Another new instrumental, this one only partly improvised. Backing tracks were overdubbed after the original completely improv’d track was laid down. I thought I’d call these “semi” impromptus to distinguish them from the pieces I record that are completely off-the-cuff, without editing or overdubbing.

Feel free to download and share. Let me know what you think.

C.Way - “Semi-Impromptu No. 1 (From My Limbs)”

Here’s a new instrumental for everyone, completely improvised with my mac’s internal mic running.

Feel free to download and share. Let me know what you think.

   C.Way - “Impromptu No.1″

New song (zipped — sorry, my site host doesn’t let me upload mp3s):

“Now I Can Move” - C.Way
   

Lyrics:
   

Now I Can Move - C.Way

3 o’clock in the Morning I can’t move
   Black rose Blooming in the middle of my Forehead
Dread, anger, belonging to Nothing, collaring my Throat
   Skin thick with Centipede feet, make me Twist my sheets
Now i can Move

2.5, 5, 10 milligrams
   2 glasses, 3, half bottle, I can’t move
Chart it, log it, Scattergraph
   Cardboard instruments dissect, disentangle
This thickening Knot of Days
   But now i can move

Planet of Ocean
   No land, No land
Wrap me, Foam me, Carry me in

There’s a copy of me
   Waiting in you
There’s a copy of me
   Waiting in you

   
C. Way/ SnailCrow.com © 2008

I was out walking in the city. Parks nearby, fresh rich smell of grass right after rain. Late afternoon sunlight.

People were with me, and we all had backpacks on — some kind of hike maybe? Field trip? Thad from work was there, and he was being shunned, subtly, by the rest of the people I was with. It made me squirm to watch him ostracized. To get my mind off of that, I looked up at the sky, clear and blue. A shape appeared there.

At first it seemed like an eye-floater, transparent and glassy, the kind you see lazing across your vision. But I concentrated on it — it was more. A gossamer, amoeba-like Mass slowly floating down, almost completely transparent. You really had to focus on it; if you stopped concentrating it disappeared from view.

I was thrilled; it felt like something heavenly, alien, awful and beautiful all at once. Everything slowed down as the feathery thing came closer. I knew it was on the verge of slipping away, so I just stood there trying to relish it before it vanished (in the way you desperately cling to sleep-bliss before you fully wake up). But suddenly I knew I would secure it, I knew it wouldn’t fade, I felt sure I could bring it to me, have it fuse with me. And it did: it floated down, floated down, until finally I touched it, brought it to me.

Now I seemed to be inside it, seeing the world from within its clear film, moving and breathing in this amorphous, clear plastic wrap. It did not interfere with my movements at all; it anticipated me with uncanny intelligence. I tested it out giddily, wandering around and waving my limbs, watching the bubble-film shape and mold around me.

Soon I realized that being in the bubble had its drawbacks; I was forced to see shapes, colors, words imprinted on the screen of my vision. Realizing this, I paused, becoming disoriented, my vision a chaos now of reality on the one hand [the city, the trees and grass in the park] and on the other, these new images and words branded on the plastic wrap I lived within.

Suddenly, in an epiphany, I realized what all this nonsense actually was displayed on the surface of the bubble film: different products, nearby specials and bargains, store openings, sales, promotions, names of best-selling books, DVDs, CDs, live music tickets. I kept staring, hard; I realized I was breathing from within some kind of bio-holographic marketing/advertising skin, trapped in ad-film.

Now I understood. Somehow in walking around that day I had mentally made clear my interests, likes, dislikes, and this custom-made ectoplasm had sensed me and floated in on me from the sky so it could wrap me round and forcefeed me marketing. I was repulsed — but more than that, let down, sad. I felt like it had all been a cruel trick, this sign of a world outside of ours, of something bigger than me, than us, than everything … I felt I had made contact in a meaningful way with something eternal, beautiful, magical, maybe extraterrestrial, but no — it was just us. it was just a man-made object designed to exploit my buying patterns, something I had helped create by my very matrix of buying history monetizable interests.

I scrubbed myself clean of it somehow — it was not laborious, it was like unpeeling glue from your palm, surprisingly easy to discard once you applied yourself to it — and we kept walking through the city.
   
C. Way/ SnailCrow.com © 2008