Αυτόχθωνός - Springing up out
of the Earth - grasshopper songs – indigenous, preagricultural, preconscious – sparkling, rippling,
self-radiant, autochthonous, vivid and iridescent.
Jah Jah Bless the Dreadlocks – The Mighty
Diamonds
…too subtle for words,
something hovered over the vicarage lawn…
the smell of rain in dust brought the day to a standstill. An elm creaked. A hoverfly hung suspended as hours and
minutes melted. The preternatural
shimmering of a dragonfly’s wing wrung wonderful rivulets of iridescent glow in
glas golowji. In an insect’s eye a
thousand mirage-images hit the tiny brain simultaneous. Under the grass-blades, the real action is
happening. Lambent foliage rumbles as
sky-lark darkened spring night quakes awake at night be the old wood fire. Strains of a grasshopper klarino song billow
the echo of a beetle’s glistening carapace shell, krogonek surkot, as he dips
through his dog-trot door into the eye of
summer. Sheep stream across the
mountain, Tsamiko soars, reflecting mountain’s soul. Phonograph spins shimmering awareness, a
stream of song, a conscious swirl of reed-throated upland warbling. The golden thread of Melodia’s musing. Τσάμικο σόλο βέρσο Σωτήρης Σγούρος Sotiris Sgouros takes a solo in the Tsamiko.
Screes of the rock-wall kingdom echo to the sound, happy the nomads who jam in
the tent.
Clouds bilious accumulate towering and flimsy- blowing down the sky flits
a scrap of newspaper- whirling and curling overhead, riding the seaward breeze-
it’s The April issue of The Caterpillar Dub and it’s coming your way….. and
it’s blowing away down the street… a gust picks it up and into the sky it’s
whirled-
Rolling on over golden fields of grain- sky blue haze casually drifts
across-spotted mottled cloud shadow
today, rolling on the wind- blowing down
the day flies a scrap of paper- swirling and circling overhead, riding the
breeze- it’s The April issue of The Caterpillar and it’s coming your way…..
fluttering cuckoo sparkling, interweaving is
rich and rhythm rumbles, pathos melifluous to grab the monochrome ear -Return of Charango.
A shower of birds – a cloud of cuckoos – larks
a-muzzy on a summer’s night –
Druidic starlings swirl, nature’s glory –
Nettles, hedgerows, brambles,under ivy old customs slumber – Saxon, Kelt,
Belgae, Dane and Windmill-Hill-Tilters ;Iberian Megalithic Cultures;Autochthonous
scions of spontaneous consciousness – under the hill they slumber – under the
hedge they linger – numbered no longer amongst the living, still they linger
and cling, biding – stirred by starling’s turbulence rippling down through the
old air – Souls don’t die-
Joni Mitchell –
Clouds
Doc Watson – The
Cuckoo
Holy Modal
Rounders – The Cuckoo
Rambling Jack
Elliot and Derrol Adams – The Cuckoo
We’re all gathered together here;we’re all a fam’ly! Let’s hear it for one of the most
important Latino bands in Machynlleth…..put your hands together, Brothers and Sisters - Let’s have a warm hand for
Cloud Cuckoo….
An old legend tells of a dark lady who stood
on a mountain-top and sang the World into being. At the foot of the mountain raged the dragons
of confusion. Their breath was like a
many-coloured river that wove and lapped and twined around the mountain, as
rainbow-ribbons around the maypole. The
dragon’s colourful breath brought consternation to the World, ensnaring and
entangling those who espied its chimeric vapours as ephemeral clouds of the
morning. These bewitching strands and
skeins of accordion, fiddle and decorative filigreed
arabesque masqueraded before the sky in the morning of the day, sinuously
snaking and swirling around as zephyrs that do to dance upon the air. But from above, from the mountain’s lofty and
far-sighted peak stood a dark woman who was the voice of song. She it was who sang the World and she it was
whose incanting primordial voice held
the loops of scattered colour, sound and zephyr, shaping them to fit her song,
her chanting monotone that now swoops, abandoning form and formality,
now chants in dark oneness. This was the voicefrom the Heart, from out of the trees,
in early morning, driving away the mists of confusion, in the morning of the
day, the day of the World, fresh, vibrant, viridian, dark, of power primal and
autochthonous. The voice from the
mountain levels out all illusion. Cate mute cate slute.
Doina
din Dolj – Maria Tanase
Check this one out: “Cate Mute Cate Slute” – Maria Tanase:
Like afabulousmechanical yurt-on-a-cart pulled by a hundred thousand gold-tipped elephantspullulating across the Carpathians it’s…..Like a glittering, audacious, crackling speckled black crow of many colours, it’s…… Reminiscent of many and many a wonderful and splendidthynge, melting ice gleaming in the
sun, golden
straws of
autumn stooks, thatch, pitchforks hitched to a bullock-cart, the Heart’s-blast of the Ages, the swooning, swooping, ululating, wobbling, tocking, galloping, clattering, syncopated, shuffling, ecstatic, Golden, dusky and coolsounds; the sounds of the people of Romania… MuzicaPolularaRomaneasca
Complete
with lyrics, here is a generous collection of the songs of Maria Tanase, courtesy of Virtual Romania. These mp3’s are well-worth checking out.:
To magnifypages of ‘The Caterpillar”, simply click on the image and open in a new tab, then you have the option to zoom in and see the detail……. (Don’t forget to check the Archives, at the top of the blog, to see previous issues of The
Caterpillar!)
A
large collection of
music from manytimes and places:
Check out my fiction ebook, The Horned Whale - available from all good ebook sites - The Horned Whale or An Morvil Kornek by Jeremy Schanche - ISBN: 9780993490910 - 175,710 words - $3.99 - Contains the mystery novel - The Kramvil, plus short stories, poetry and glossaries. Find out more at : http://yecaterpillar.blogspot.co.uk/2016/10/the-horned-whale-by-jeremy-schanche.html
Please also see these blogs:
https://haroldhempsteadcagedcrusader.wordpress.com/
https://savetheholyheadland.blogspot.co.uk/
Posts
