Music

There is happiness in these notes, even if the words do not agree. There is a smile waiting there in the sound of each instrument. Each track is new and exciting and each track makes me listen. I do so gladly.

There's nothing quite like it.

Fun House

"It's a fun house where the mirrors all reflect what's real / and reality's as twisted as the mirrors reveal / and the fun is finding out what the mirrors show..."

With their voices they soothe and unnerve, an echoing, disjointed harmony rises from the open lips and their smiles. With the glass there, it's hard to see them as they are. Tall? Short? Fat? Thin? The mirrors are everywhere and the secrets they hold are stuck fast.

A high pitched whisper from the left, a smile of deep, glistening red comes from a gap in between. Forward, you step, to follow that grin but your hand lands on cold. It's a mirror afterall.

That nasal voice from behind, the slow tipping of a hat. Beckoning. You spin. There's nothing there but your disfigured reflection.

And from your right a lumbering, heavy voice. The thump of passing footsteps. But still there is only the mirrors and you, twisting and turning. Lost in the place where reality lives, in the guise of plentiful disjointed images.

In this mirrored box you sit, waiting, just waiting to cast your eyes on the usual - on the you that looks back every morning from the one in your bathroom. But all you see is malformed versions of yourself, leering back at you.

The voices sing again;

"and the fun is finding out what the mirrors show..."

Frequency

It does weird things to my head, this song. My ear seems to hone in to something that shouldn't be there. Perhaps, it is a message, a hidden frequency meant for only those who are in tune with it, with the sound.

Long shadows lure you in...

It is neither pleasant nor unpleasant but no instrument nor voice could make it. My ears strain each time they try to hear, as if it isn't there and it's only my imagination. And what if it is?

The more you look the less you see...

Pursed lips and a furrowed brow, face like a raisin lacking in colour - what a picture. But it's still there, that sound.

So close your eyes and start to breathe...

Ah! The song alters, slips into its ending with a change - the sound is gone. The hidden frequency. And I'm in tune.

Pulse

Close your eyes and dive, the pulse is all you know and all you feel and all you hear. It beats, changing every so often for a more tantalising atmosphere. You're alone, it's just you.

Open your eyes. There's a sea and you're swept with it. It has eyes and hands and mouths, teeth and tongues. It sings with the pulse. The crowd engulf the atmosphere and sweeps you into its hands - you're not alone.

The pulse stops. Darkness.

And then, they roar.

Vision

It takes you, pulls you in and drags you under. But it's not unpleasant, not at all like drowning. It's more like swimming in a sea of clouds and shimmering raindrops frozen in place but still soft, living, movable. Each move you make is a ripple, as if in water, that moves the time around you. It's mystifying, new, it's a world you've never experienced and yet you know it. It is familiar.

Though you're high in the air, and the air is like water, you're not cold. You feel the warmth around you like an embrace, close your eyes and sink in. It pulls you further past every pigment of colour, which flash beneath your eyelids and swim through you mind.

A cool air caresses your face like silk as you open your eyes, it carries you like a leaf settled on a quick shaft of wind and there's nothing that you cannot see. Everything is in perfect detail and every colour in perfect clarity, you see each metaphor as it creates itself, each allusion, each rhythm as it starts.

You are the creator, the believer, the puppeteer and musician. You are the King, Queen, ruler and this is your kingdom