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More Up To The Sky

by PAN

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    CD gatefold Digipak with original artwork and insert booklet containing poetry by Toni Oswald.

    Includes unlimited streaming of More Up To The Sky via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 2 days
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1.
They Speak In Dreams For all the voices undone this is a road of claws a road that cuts the tongue spits a shell a six a seam Down into these dreams we measure the tarnish and grieve opium salvo Weight of arms your eyes measure the light to catch to catch a gaze of ghosts crossing a shallow river speaking glossolalia This is a sorcery that binds time as your body breaks down an invisible echo a desire touching past a fragile desperation annihilates the voice execution later resurrected in vermillion now you are only that voice now you are only that voice now you are only that voice whispering over water A slow trance of sound gathering nightshade in fields of red string possessed by this voice never seen never seen never seen never seen Speaking with photos inside father's old box a relic of place shipwrecked in memories fingerprints of dust and grief you are a secret no more you are a secret no more you are a secret no more you are a secret no more you are a secret no more you are a secret no more and nothing nothing nothing is what it seems they speak in dreams they speak in dreams they speak in dreams
2.
Unfolding 02:15
Unfolding I In a place where sorrow was long served, the dark black lip of it settled into the dew of dawn curving around their necks where children of the potential rose like flames II Before you were dead you were born covered in your mother's fluid you flowed out a river a waterfall a watercolor for Ra III The assassin of lies brought forth the golden birds waiting ten thousand years as they rode horses across the stars a gallup through time IV It is a blinding to see the children's shadows grow as the great orchid opens a bloom let down below petal lips it swells like string unfolding pleasure V a story a re-mapping a baby a heartbeat a color wheel in the garden a key a parallel dimension down on Elysian St. this is a river you have been crossing a child in the driveway a frontier before us with a line running through the center a circle a swish the crystal that spoke to a fish long black hair leather strap a sky smile a smirk a seahorse nettles grow around the moat a blue rose a civil war diary a gun a burn in her skirt that necklace from Peru turn that page a scrapbook of the dead prayers of people a string that speaks a riddle a portal the rainbow bridge children of the potential a ritual at dusk unfolding unfolding unfolding
3.
The Ancestor 02:52
The Ancestor I There is a ghost standing center circle white moles guard four directions a black moon and and earth moon take to corners where we have no map where no one knows this ghost This ancestor holds a black rose symbolic ghost of blood a resurrection of white cloth Yolk to yolk like a wheel this circle has spoke Where it's dry white flour mixes with gauze cast caked sand it – a rain of white powder Ghosts there memory's dust holds a whisper back you cannot imagine the sound Yolk to yolk like a wheel this circle has spoke stretched taught holding the path in place Twelve circles ten lead to another world epic journey of DNA swims these veins When you leave this world you will have no eyes. II In the summer of my eleventh year many ways were lost. Tied to the blood I grew tight like those that had caked before me. A box of secrets put in a red wagon I pulled through the heat that shadowed me everywhere – I was ablaze in my familiar's folly. The world was dense – I looked for openings but could not find them anywhere. Fear trapped in yolk unable to speak. Words were at the bottom of strings tied to the beginning of the beginning, like fish pulled up from the deepest sea, reaching air they will never breathe. I am a mythographer of old dimensions, maugre hollow eyes. I burst forth into name; a line of blood filled with secrets. The invisible string is tied to my pointy finger as a reminder not to look – but to see! The mind needs a form, so the cloak is a covering for what the eye will not see. The child pulled the red wagon, shiny in Ra's light. Babies laid down to metal, hot to touch. These ghosts in me are the ghosts of blood. Dried and dark, but not unseen. When you leave this world you will have no eyes.

about

PAN is a wide open container. PAN is a leaf in the betel vine. PAN is to move. PAN is the God of the wild, the woods and music. PAN is of Arcadia. PAN is spring. PAN transcends time and space. PAN is the stereo field. PAN changes. PAN draws us towards it. PAN moves within and without us. We are of PAN. PAN is all.

credits

released May 11, 2015

Words by Toni Oswald
Guitars by Rod Brakes
Synthesizer by Max Davies
Mixed by Max Davies and Luke Cawthra
Mastered by Max Davies
Photography by Georgia Van Gunten
Cover photograph by Toni Oswald

© ℗ 2015 Gothedelic Records. All right reserved.

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PAN Boulder, Colorado

PAN

A Poetry Audio Nexus of musicians, poets and performers dedicated to the pure act of creativity, cultivating a zone where time is different and everything changes. We are drawn together in collaboration across the planets as an act of freedom against the current zeitgeist of sameness and order. We worship at the altar of the imagination. ... more

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