verse the thirteenth … musing along sung tongs … roaming arhythmic with a fauna collective’s ode to rediscovery, in the scope of a homegrown nectarous road … buddy up, soundtrekkers: let’s cellar … and, of the course, as always: sláinte — enjoi

“Sweet Road” — Animal Collective (Sung Tongs, 2004)

Writers : Panda Bear (Noah Lennox), Avey Tare · · Producers : Bear, Rusty “Saphire” Santos, Tare ·

:: Primer ::

:: so … Sweet Road … this one surfaced to the cellar shelf by way of a somewhat roundabout route … open, as always, to whichever way the intuition’s current flows, i believe i was coursing the cul-de-sac frequencies of … la roux and radiohead … somewhere in that neighborhood … but something felt slightly forced, somewhat pragmatic, and not entirely rooted in the intrinsic mystery of endemic rhythmic reciprocity that resides at the soul of peculiar music rediscovery …

so, i revisited the crates, rummaged through a motley collection of past posts’ close calls, and happened upon animal collective’s Leaf House … that tune – akin to a certain multitude of wholly resonant signature records – always stuck with a present nostalgia, struck with a distinct something, lingered with a lasting sense of harmonic residence at the depths of that sonic genomic recess …

but/and so, from Leaf House, i leapt once more to a sung tongs sibling song … on account of potential over-familiarity with the former, and some distant pull to push just a few strides more into the erstwhile auric unknown … and so, with said final foray into intrinsic frequencies, parallel paths converged into a most melodic boulevard of full-bodied musical brevity …

and so, all of said aforementioned is to pave the way into the synoptic symphony of our thirteenth soundtrek roam: without further ado, from brothers in baltimore nativity, animal collective’s Sweet Road … let‘s cellar said rhythmic, kids ::

:: On the Palatte · Profile ::

:: on the front … morning sounds eclectic … deep creek lakeside walk of the wisp, somewhere in the cadence of gymboree jam session trail mix … round and round the sound it flows … over the river and through the woods to … moon shadow cafe … firefly farms … it feels like, “kid again” … on just another nature walk … a field trip into that embryonic connection with the natural world’s code of common sense …

It started like a stone
I grew it out but then I rested it
I found sweet road
It came announced on the right
I left my purse then found the road

… into the mid-palatte … where money can’t buy what grants purpose or what gives worth to our present legacy, as, well, quite simply, humans … where coffers can’t purchase what the green earth provides … those purse strings that bind your space and time … just let go … and in that deceptively simple act of release, is the key to embarking on this open road … the sound, the mood vibe, to me, it just feels like the natural timbre of traipsing maryland woodlands … making it up as you go along … and how that crescendo carries a certain sense of evolving into belonging …

I’m tainted in a patchy problem
None can tell what I can tell ya
Let them eagles have good times
It’s a road and not a soda

walking through the woodlands, following ramshackle percussion, ovation, fret-set strings, and weathered woodwinds … feels like a multi-sensory metaphor … compass guiding each stride and step in and of this beautifully cacophonous gorp world sound trek … it feels like preschool music class where everyone just picks the instrument that somehow seems to have chosen them, and we all just play what channels from some interworldly metronome that ticks the tock to some off-kilter, but peculiarly en pointe, tempo … and eventually all of the disparate melodies coalesce into a natural avenue of auric symphony … organic orchestration from the sounds of babes … and from said pitter patter steps, onward vanguard avante alee into landscape leaps and ambrosiac bounds … how sweet the ride

I found sweet road
I found sweet road

and then, and so, the forest fairies’ most formative finish … boreal breakthrough … past the precipice, to the opening, beneath an arbor-lined canopy backdrop … somewhere within the zoological choral diatribe of harmonious discord … in a “they’re not different, they’re just … unique” genre dialect, lingering along the experimental pop fringes of freak folk, just so …

It started like a stone
I grew it out but then I rested it
I found sweet road
It came out of us on the right
I left my purse then found the road

the genesis revelation reappears in pastoral paschal revival … and, if you listen closely, echoing in the distance … campfire comrades hearken to the fauna, flora, and homestead trails … kumbaya m’lord and ladies … oh tribe, kumbaya … ::

:: Pairings ::

:: So, this seven course sampling pairs in the proximal palatte plane of … prodigal progeny’s coming of sage sojourn … lingering along innerversal exploration through the multiversal wilderness of a neoteric cultural climate scape … a bildungsroman soundtrek scoring some reawakened sense of self as universe in said interdimensional world of quantum quandaries …

and, of the course, would be much remiss to omit thematic flavors complimenting seasonal faregrounds of paschal renaissance … as such, this particular pair’d plating features base notes of self-discovery by way of purpose-driven passion, surrender in the active practice of living sacrifice, and broadly paralleled pathways of calvary crusades into bodhi consciousness of alchemical emerald tablature …

tl;dr : a gnostic scion’s rhythmic recollection underscoring routes and roots of revelation in reckoning with the universal soul … that return voyage to the arcadian source of one’s natural self :

· ·

Rhyme Cellar : Sweet Road : Pair’d Playlist :: · “My Turn” – Basement Jaxx · : · “Cult Logic” – Miike Snow · : · “Hard Life” – Sault · : · “Sweet Road” – Animal Collective · : · “Inner World” – Dirty Projectors · : · “Aurora Summer” – George Clanton & Nick Hexum · : · “Pink Reprise” – Two Feet ·

now then, off the bat with basement jaxx … My Turn’s glimpse of hope amidst encompassing melancholy, by way of introspective mood-mused self-dialogue, felt quite act one herein … on the blink, sylvan synth interplay between rustic tonal textures and classic jaxx pastiche electronica felt song associative in context of our animal collective signaturepiece … lyrically, spot en pointe … commencing our character’s odyssean arc in pursuit of genesis itself … the initiation by inquiry :

When will this all start?
When did i fall apart?
When is it my turn?
My turn?

inward, onward … in segue transit from a plot jotting interpersonal pivot, we steer said soundtrack outward, sending origin sentiments of lost coordinates to some outerwordly guardian … some cosmic call center … in newly fortified hopes of crossing paths with some wayfaring comrade in purpose driven wandertrust … some lonesome companion in the specious reasoning realm of Cult Logic …

Wondering how this life could be so intricate
I wanna rewrite my heart and let the future in
I wanna open it up and let somebody in

Can you free me from the logic that I knew?
I’ll believe it even if it is not true

… sonically, this one felt complimentary in its tundra vista telectronica feel … a distant acoustic expanse echoing some aspect of broader, more sweeping, atmospheric instrumental conceptions considered within the narrative frame of earnest orison lyrical soliloquy … petitioning that one mainstay companion from mass cultural throes … and even if it is but a mirage, manifest that figment figure real now, make good on said belief … for the sake of the story … for the sake of the kids, the culture, for the sake of the character arc … onward

whew: sault … lit involvement … Hard Life … this is where i wanted to pull focus close up to the locus scene … stripping away instrumental abstractions of arcadian thought processes, and seguing our soundtrack into something more spartan sedimentary

It’s a hard life, fighting to be seen
It’s a hard life, we were born to lead
Oh, be on your way
Things are gonna change

where jaxx snow’s somewhat nebulous exposition vacillated adrift existential ephemera, imploring some compass moment of directive purpose from the ambivalent detachment of philosophical observation – lamenting that inability to touch the root of those feels, to make physical contact with that conceptual crevasse – here, we sault said wound to fulfill the void, to propel our catalyst into realized existence …

Finally, we’ve reached
Reached the end (Woo)
Finally, we’ve reached
…
Finally, we’ve reached the end
(Finally, we’ve reached the end)

… somewhere in the scope of saul’s third eye damascene chrysalis break, we reality check said apaulistic mate :

Every day feels like a battle
Battle of the self, battle of the mind
Just try to be kind to yourself

… feels like a sense of hindsight clarity in past life confusion … on the wings of divine grace … and in each copacetic stride, so a seal of communion with the encompassing everything

Everything is gonna be alright because God is, God is on your side
Everything is gonna be alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, alright

but, then again, i don’t ever really know, can’t quite explain … the aforementioned is likely a far cry from what my mind intended to convey … alas, such is life (because, see above — instant callback!) … tl;dr : crash landing from the ivory tower of “when is it my turn to let a future someone in my begin again” to the reality check mate of a hard life’s clinquant coup … and onward vanguard godspeed alee …

a voila! just like that … given said aforementioned grace … the steepest plights lead to the softest landings … and thus from sault’s Hard Life, so we segue into our most nectarous signaturepiece … and from said Sweet Road’s summit, so we gaze upon our terra nova …

dirty projector’s Inner World … felt right … actually, in immediate retrospect, this one was originally slated with Street Life’s pair’d plating … but Oh The Sunn! captured that cellar crusade … but/and as always … kairos timing is always timely … here, the tune feels … orchard embryonic vantage point meets empyrean articulation … i think, this blink alignment emerged in transit from its precedent epilogue revelation “It started like a stone: I grew it out but then I rested it; I found sweet road, It came out of us on the right …” and here,

What if I don’t know the way to get back to the way I was?
What if I don’t want to stay along the path uninterrupted?
Is there a prayer I could say to click my heels and be above it?

felt like a natural progression … the thoughts that arise during one’s venture along intuition’s avenue, observing intramural realms, sensing the heretofore subconscious worlds of your own self … sonically, it echoes mechanical whimsy in the wake of motley woodland musings, like unlocking the key to an abandoned lighthouse and setting its gears back in motion …

Spaces for roses, they forgot to hold
Where is it taking me?
I can only know, yeah
After the tides we recede and we are free to grow

in context of our character arc, the lighthouse of (say it with motif) one’s third eye, gazing over currents, coves, and whirlpools of said innerversal vistaquatic … onward

ough, Aurora Summer … so this one, just ricochet … from the splintered spectral dirty projection of a flight tower’s generative inner world, we mise en pivot propulsion into psychedelic solar inebriation station bombast of cosmolittoral starry-eyed sublime … surf’s up, and the turf’s stardust … here, i just felt like the penultimate push was ripe for our protagonist’s long-awaited, insatiably debated, reintroduction to that elysian orchard of their own personal promised land … whatever / wherever / whoever it may be … and george and nick’s opening effervescent implosion amplified sound wall just felt : thus

… like “my turn through cult logic’s hard life yielding rediscovery of an eternal sweet road’s inner world route” inevitably leads to this visceral resonance … the 180 degree revo/evo deus ex machina of divine mystery, from ascetic repose to interdimensional ascension … not really sure, can’t quite explain, but the levity on this tune’s submersive gravity just felt form fit for the collective this dial up on the deluge … the past and future, the standardized space and time of this material world’s continuum: collapsed … into the singularity of eternal presence … the zen continuum, perpetual copacetic : at pacific ecstatic scale … or something to said abstruse effect … onward

two feet … Pink Reprise … the hushed quietude of a limbo’s lullaby … the intention in resignation … floating along the ether in the wake of an eos summertide’s fall … it just felt beautiful … like the ambient sounds of a universe at rest … vaporous respiration … rosewater hues … cardiac pace of a pendulum kick drum … bathe the beat in sagacious blues … cerebral dreamtime guitar riffs pondering retrospective in dialect electric … it felt final fantastic … a black sheep returns to its native pasture … reprise in the land of milk and honey … how sweet this home … and scene, now then, from the top, en scene ::

· ·

:: Impressions ::

:: First and lasting … prelimentarily, the tune felt like a welcome woodland warp … the unorthodox nature of that time signature and span wrapped in a dauntless playfulness … felt like a blur, a blip, a morsel of organic elvin groove nostalgic … felt like elementary kid again … fast forward to legacy impression … admittedly, it feels a bit premature for proper legacy retrospective … but in the immediate, its lasting resonance resides in perceptions developed through the very journey endeavored herein … Sweet Road feels like this paschal promenade’s experience, developing some sense of literary capture, some belletristic translation establishing a structure of feeling, an articulation of presence … however it feels to course about this cellar column is, effectually, the lasting impression of said synoptic sylvan symphonic … and with that close to this syntactic tapestry of terra incognita … from the top, once more with some feeling, let’s revist our origin rhyme, with a live guise twist … en scene, encore ::

---