Rhyme Cellar, v. 9 : “Pull up the Roots” (1983)

A cellar in the rhyme of life lived in the lens of cloud nine … radiant root starseeds assemble into ascension … let’s get omnilinguistic … في صحتكم — enjoi

Pull up the Roots” — Talking Heads (Speaking in Tongues, 1983)

Writers : David Byrne, Chris Frantz, Jerry Harrison, Tina Weymouth · · Producers : Talking Heads

Artist : Talking Heads
Vintage : 1983
Album : Speaking in Tongues
Label : Sire
Region : Blank Tapes Studio, New York City, United States
Varietal / Blend : Pop / New Wave, Art Rock, Electro-Funk

:: Primer ::

:: Full disclosure: i am in no way, shape, nor form versed in the prolific realm of talking heads … i just happened upon speaking in tongues on a crate dig one auspicious day, and fell in first spin love with the sonic aesthetic mood vibe auric frequency, and said affection has yet to fade … so (in a somewhat detour from the incumbent plotline, but/and in definitive alignment with practical purposes of this cellar silo and music discovery platform), let’s scene shift into a world of subterranean spunk for the sake of sharing a tune i thoroughly enjoy … because it sounds good on my ear drums, and feels good on the auric energy … in hopes that said feeling is contagious and communicable by way of linguistic exchange … a voila — let’s cellar said rhythmic ::

:: On the Palatte · Profile ::

:: On the front … it feels like roaming into the wake of sublingual administration … future communal beckons as we step inside savanna drifts of san pedro sound … on the front, sonic scaffolding blueprints augment sensory plane topography … as if with each layer of instrumentation, so the song materializes a heretofore supernatural manifestation of our wayfaring voyager’s elixir-induced hymnal tripnotic …

from “one saucy bass-and-piano walking line” forms a submarine trench, the bedrock of our archaeological dig … from one meandering moog-vibe baritrombone slide line, abounds a tonal boreal forest, our timbre taiga … from “one ricocheting keyboard line,” burgeons an aeriform electrical current, like a byrne-borne cerebral shockwave bringing glossolalia vistas to waking life …

Hello again
Yes, indeed my friend
I can tell
Gonna get together again
I could be right, I could be wrong
I feel nice when I sing this song
And I don’t mind
Whatever happens is fine

and so the mid-palatte … marking mental notation to self: exhume ancestry … sonic formations flow in the frequency of genesis augury …

Baby likes to keep on playing
What do I know, what do I know?
Wilder than the place we live in
I’ll take you there, I’ll take you there
I don’t mind some slight disorder
Pull up the roots, pull up the roots
And I know every living creature
Pull up the roots, pull up the roots

… subliminal looming in the topographic terrain of arachne, anansi, and uttu’s mythosophical web … echoes of maui’s jawbone linger within the bassline, pulling some sense of anatomical structure to the shore … from beneath the tidal expanse of an erstwhile littoral vista, the battle scars in conflicted ascent itself, edify a carbon-hybrid crystal grid of emergent culture :

And I know you
I understand what you do
Yes, indeed
I put the hat on my head
Come out of your mess, bring yourself in
I feel nice when I start to sing
And I can see
Everyone else is like me

an auric altar paying homage and presaging harvests of an afrobeat funk futuristic groove guardianship of cosmic humanity …  this very terrain, though … in its edification, it feels postdoctorate, in its allegiance to the apparently primitive … as it returns to the source, it exalts the primal … and so, amidst tectonic shifts and geologic caprice, our shaman grants clarity in the navigational rune of an interdimensional voyager’s lyrical boon …

Towns that disappeared completely
Pull up the roots, pull up the roots
Miles and miles of endless highway
Pull up the roots, pull up the roots
Colored lights and shiny curtains
I’ll take you there, I’ll take you there
Everything has been forgiven
Pull up the roots, pull up the roots

and from “one heavily shouted pyromaniac refrain,” so emerges a pyramid … somewhere amidst tenochtitlan and giza … the locus appears, as the lyrics traverse between new soul and sagacious spirit … the solidarity in universal singularity transpires that much more eminent … the harmony in elasticity … the natural orbit in otherwise ramshackle absurdity … the mysterious omneity in soliloquy psychobabble …

Well, I have a good time when I go out of my mind
And it’s a wonderful place, and I can’t wait to be there
And I hear beautiful sounds coming out of the ground
Gonna take us a while, but we’ll go hundreds of times

and so, the penultimate push … the ease into the finish feels synth world shamanistic axis shift … a neoteric pivot on the archaic technique of ecstasy … pendulum swing into a land of the lyricless … the bridge feels like new wave whirling dervish traipsing across a discoayahuasquero’s djembe crown …

somewhere between an elementary schoolyard saunter, and celestial gallivant upon sleipnir, the undercurrent uluru urashtu vibe finds its auric texture rooted in what feels inherently bedrock ziggurat busy box … as if this entire medley exists as a ladder to the sky … some conduit between the kindergarten self and its own creative progenitor … and this as our collective being in eternal communion with the primordial divine … that which exists in the realm beyond this dimensional space and time …

Baby likes to keep on playing
What d’you know? What d’you know?
Wilder than the place we live in
I’ll take you there, I’ll take you there
And I don’t mind some slight disorder
Pull up the roots, pull up the roots
And no more time for talkin’ it over
Pull up the roots, pull up the roots

… and, eventually — as one does upon liberation from this material form, this earthbound body — from phoenix ascent, so we wane and nestle back into the confines of our terrestrial vessel … having broken the conventional bonds of sapien experience by way of practioning ecstasy through some intensively jubilant moment of personal psychic abnormality …

having explored the cosmos, scaled the heavens, plunged into the netherworlds, only to return with tidings not readily available within the three-dimensional walls of * gestures broadly at thus * … so we manifest human connection through innerversal monologue transmuted universal dialogic … so we connect through articulation of an imagination’s edification … the rhythmic conduit of collective creative consciousness …

Well, I have a good time when I go out of my mind
And it’s a wonderful place, and I can’t wait to be there
And I hear beautiful sounds coming out of the ground
Someone must have been high, but I guess it’s alright

and so, to the universe belongs the cosmic dancer … those who were thought to be quite insane by norms who could not steer the music … pull up those roots, lil’ starseeds ::

:: Pairings ::

:: This one … effectually, musing within the scope of a seven course sonic sampling from the steeple vantage of a vision quest vista … vibrationally-speaking … onward :

· ·

Rhyme Cellar : Pull up the Roots : Pair’d Playlist :: · “Free Xone” – Janet Jackson · · “Who I Am” – Toro Y Moi · · “I Like Dirt” – Red Hot Chili Peppers · · “Pull up the Roots” – Talking Heads · · “High Life” – Daft Punk · · “Relax” (VanGuard Remix) – Frankie Goes To Hollywood · · “Bibi The Dog” – M83 ·

· ·

First up, Free Xone … janet here just, felt very … take flight from the tarmac of surreal life … drop the lead weight of rules and convention … rise in the wake of third eye reinvention … lift off from liberation station’s luminous launchpad … glow bop mellow … vibe magnetic, tribe delphic … onward …

from a liberated innertuition speaks outerworld peace … or something to said effect … striding in cosmic alignment with constellation celebration … so we shift into toro y moi’s bucolic bovine pastures of a self-reflective divine … Who I Am … just … proximal vibes … here for the play space … hear for the band play : crew … onward … whew, up next, funk soul brothers west it out now … and coast …

so, I Like Dirt … outside of the complimentary cadence and collective alignment in rhythmic affinity, the narrative sequence directed itself ( as californicated hollywood-brigaded artisans often craft with their respective fantasy studio creations ) … i mean, the loam association alone … seamless segue from an ode to terra firma fulcrum into the signature centerpiece … onward …

into a most pressing inquiry: why did the peppers submerge said selves into the sediment ? why, to Pull Up The Roots, of course ! because starseeds keep the subterranean stellar luminous … onward …

wham, bam, kaboom — one, two, three-act playback with a most smooth continuity … lifted from the land they love, roots rise up on the aerodynamic rhythms of franco-house dons daft punk … High Life … the narrative arc, elevated … just, let go and feel the levity in your cerebral sensory frequency … onward …

so, vanguard’s Relax remix … this one … absolute tune … bona fide crate dig diamond in the rough trade archives, verifiable mission sorting said welsh duo’s 2010 revamp to the surface … but, in my humble opinion, absolutely worth the drive dive … of the course, aligned tribal vibration station … proximal tempo, cadent progression, etc. … but/and, fundamentally, it just feels alive … so, for what it’s worth in this immediate niche of a certain alcove in the time-space continuum: enjoi … onward …

bless, up, Bibi The [ Chien ] … this one, in particular, felt subtle in its synchrony … but/and in that latent camaraderie … a genuine gravity to its epilogue spin within the seven course sonic constellation … it speaks in tongues and ambles with a certain ephemera to the otherwise concrete …

Slender, long and stable, like he’s holding the sky
On his thin stilts, this man looks just surreal
His hair and his beard are colored in a sharp red
His fingertips converse when his mouth is shut
On his frail shoulders, an organic structure
Patchworks pinned it, so are mottled cloths
Some feathers, some braids, some authentic pearls

… that sophic twist on the apparently sprite … the return of that shamanistic shape shifted new soul sagacious spirit …

Tonight he is king, tomorrow he’ll be Ganesh
Yesterday was Hera, an extra-terrestrial version [of her]
He invents geniuses, dictators and jinns
Make them come alive as they’re still, with a fierce look, they’re sublime
It only takes one night, in an unusual place
To find out where the bird is, an electrical encounter

… vive la lumière … liberate this life … et repete, et repete … ::

:: Impressions ::

:: I remember this album, and tune in particular, on the prelim spin, just feeling … xylophonic tripnotic … but/and via de los puertos, so to speak (en lenguas, supongo) … it just felt so … free … panoramically … transcendent … but/and cyclical, rudimentary, inceptive … it also just felt, spunky … geometric in a colorful way … like that scene from the simpsons where homer sessions with the fox, and goes for that first step on the pyramid, only for it to escalate akin to the temple of kukulcán … that space … i don’t know, can’t quite explain … but the tune just feels … inherently something central, innate, universal, and alive … a lyrical liberation station … first and lasting impression is a soulful tune in the groove of human electricity maintaining some channel of cosmic continuity … the infinite rhythmic singularity of cosmogonic company … and scene ::

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