joshua burkett

por arvre


joshua burkett | life less lost (feather one’s nest records 1998/spirit of orr 2003)

hay discos que llevarías a una isla desierta y discos que te llevan esa isla a ti. ‘life less lost‘ es uno de esos, recuerdo que una amiga me había grabado un recopilatorio hace un par de años bajo el título de ‘sonámbulo‘, en el tracklist estaban/están; the birdtree, the ivytree, wooden wand, salamander, black forest/black sea, the iditarod y un largo etc. realmente exquisito, pero las canciones que siempre, siempre, siempre me hacían ir corriendo a ver el título eran las de joshua burkett, en concreto ‘working day routine‘, ‘stupid hope‘ o ‘the time that we are‘. también recuerdo que antes de empezar a grabar ‘raro & apenino‘, le llevé a marco el recopilatorio para comentarle que así quería sonar, por supuesto que grabó una copia para él, porque como sentencia matt valentine hablando de ‘life less lost‘; it is a pleasure to live here.

“beam of folkaways passing tenements with bygone studio apartments as the lofts of the future awash in a microsecond of urban om and the sparkly vastness of country mistery – a dragged in ray of tone we begin on the azure stylus of remembering. effervescing bubbles of a lamp lit moon under an animal spirit sky for a moment screaming in absolute quietude of still night and waking to stained synapses trapped in the oxide of rails, gardens and the solitude breathing in the run off grooves of mushroom wood staves burning slowly with the ringing of nuthatch gorgeous in the synchronicity. his kind a loving time trapped in the red light, perfect when on. furnished with strings and beads and love and cosimo in his language the starry loneliness is perennial and that is all life less lost ever be, sipping in the universal ocean and returning a mistery of inmortality in the rear view mirror of memory smiling on a wavy scene tripped on capsules of beautiful sonic doors open and whispering wildcards of flowers and illusory prisms through his hushed towny cry of consciousness intimate with leaves, creatures and muted dirt honed through the jibba white love of grass horns and offered from his hand a brow of clouds fizzing on earth hidden rim bright as starfields, it is a pleasure to live here.” – matt valentine