Electronic Voice Phenomena & Feedback Loops

It’s an exciting publishing day here with two new pieces out today for your reading pleasure. Here I continue to riff on the concept of mashing up EVP with sound manipulation.

First up, my newest text piece titled Dead Voices Feedback Looping. is up over at the always interesting don’t submit!, it’s very much a continuation of the Divination And Magnetic Tape For Dummies that was published a little while back. Meanwhile, my new poem Ectoplasm Air Piece Radio is up over at The Pixelated Shroud, a mysterious little project I just recently discovered.

And while I am updating, I encourage you to please check out my Soundcloud, where there are at least three new tracks up including Paranormal Circuitry, Meditations Multiple Voices In Error, and Espace Interieur Noir. The latter two are also up on all major streaming platforms if that is your thing.

New Work & A New Zine

I’m pleased to announce that my poem Ectoplasmic Machines is featured in the inaugural issue of avant-garde lit mag D.O.R. Special thanks to editor and fellow experimental wordsmith Lachlan J McDougall for giving my poem a home in an impressive new zine alongside so many amazing writers! Seriously good stuff in here and you’re not going to want to miss this one. The print edition is not out yet but luckily, you don’t have to wait to read it because it’s available now over at Amazon as a free kindle download. Check it out and you won’t be disappointed.

New Anthology From Beir Bua Press

I’m very proud to be featured in An Experimental Poetry Anthology- Beir Bua Press 2022. This amazing anthology features extracts from works published by Beir Bua Press in 2022. Last years anthology was easily one of my favorite books of the year and this book promises to be just as great! If you have been curious about my new book or any others from this extraordinary press, this is the sampler for you. It features an excerpt from my book <Reboot> More So… Disconnected along with work by these talented artists:

The Nothingness Kit By John W. Sexton
Book of Inversions by Kit Fryatt & Harry Gilonis 
Cartouche! By Dylan King & Michelle Moloney King
Encomium: Cento Paradelles by Matthew Schultz 
&there4 by Mike Ferguson 
NEXT TO NOTHING & THIS WAS MEANT TO BE A STORY by Mark Lindsey
The State of Moving by Lucia Sellars 
Elephants Sleep in Bunk Beds by Carl Burkitt 
pressed specimens - prose poems from the Medicinal Plant Herbarium, 
Southern Cross University by Moya Costello 
Impression by Owen Bullock 
Waterworks by Ashley Bullen-Cutting 
TERRACES: a choreography by Scott Thurston 
THE FABULOUS OP by Gary Barwin & Gregory Betts 
AMERICAN EPIC: ON PATERSON by Ciarán O'Rourke 
The Boy with the Radio by Cormac Culkeen 
Fabric by Anthony Etherin 
YOUNG IN THE NIGHT GRASS by Tim Murphy 
Edible by Jane Ayres 
The Most Natural Thing In The World by Desmond Traynor 
BRITISH P(oe)Ms by Dave Drayton 
Two Plays by Carl Oprey 
STILL, WE SING by Martina Collender 
The Voice Without by Richard Capener 
IMPLODE EXPLODE by Naoise Gale

Talking To Myself Part 2

To continue with my previous post, perhaps on some subconscious level I don’t want to be read. Otherwise, why would I have posted the last rant on a blog no one reads. I could have posted it to social media where people may actually read or comment. Perhaps it is better this way for the introvert.

That’s what I’ll tell myself anyway. 

The truth is there is a certain comfort in ranting and whining on this blog where it’s out there but not really. However, the fact remains when it comes to my writing and my sounds, I desperately want to be heard, and there lies the problem

I’ve been writing my whole life. I’ve been a published writer for nearly twenty years and involved in the noise/experimental music scene for thirty. I have been putting my art out into the world for my entire adult life. In that time, I have diligently tried to promote myself and I feel no closer to being somebody than when I started.

It’s frustrating. While I am nowhere near as prolific as I would like to be, I truly feel that the art I am producing is better than it has ever been. I truly feel my new book is the best book of poetry I have ever done. And my new album, hands down the best thing I have recorded. I am better than I have ever been, and until these doldrums hit, I was firing on all cylinders.

I don’t know what I expect when I put out stuff. What exactly? Look, I am a middle-aged guy and far from that naïve kid that I used to be. It’s not like I think I’m going to make a living writing poetry or making music… much less of the experimental kind. I have resigned myself to the fact that I will die in this factory. There is no escape. 

So, what then? What do I expect? Maybe a little more exposure. A little more acknowledgment. I don’t know, it’s stupid… who the hell am I anyway? The internet has leveled the playing field for the modern artist. It’s never been easier to disseminate words and sound, except there are millions of us, a sea of voices all screaming over each other to be heard, whoring our art on the web to little fanfare. What I want to know is does it cause others the same bleak depression it causes me? Is the innate need to make art a blessing or an affliction?

Talking To Myself: A Rant

Writing poetry is simply magic. The feeling of crafting a poem is unbeatable and the catharsis is ironically beyond words. However, being so open and vulnerable putting your work into the world can be almost embarrassing. It’s freeing, but also uncomfortable. However, much worse than that, much more embarrassing is sending a poem into the world and no one acknowledges it, let alone reads it. A pin drops. Radio silence. No one cares. You’ve opened and bared your soul to the world, except no one noticed.

What is the purpose of art? Is it that cathartic spark and unbelievable high of creation or is it self-expression? A little of both, I would say. The catharsis of creation is a feeling like none other, but if that was the sole purpose of art one would be satisfied to stop there. Some people can do that, some can’t… I can’t. There is always that need to push that piece of art out into the world. If you are expressing yourself that implies you are expressing yourself to someone. So, then the reader is crucial, otherwise you are just talking to yourself. And again, that is enough for some people.

In short, if the point of art is indeed self-expression then there is a need for an audience. And if the audience isn’t listening then you are talking to yourself. That depresses me. That hurts me on a molecular level. It hurts because you are putting yourself out there and no one really cares. My writing as fragmented, as weird, as experimental as it may be at times is personal. It may not always be obvious, it may be symbolic, but I am putting myself out there in a very, very personal way.

Does it matter? Is the reader crucial? After all, most artists will create regardless, sometimes not even because of want but because of necessity. But again, if that was truly enough, we would stop there. Why then is there the innate need to send our art into the world? Is it because no one wants to talk to themselves? Is it a desire to be something greater than what we are? I have hinged my entire being, my entire worth, on being a writer… not just someone who writes. But the label: WRITER. If I am not that then what am I? I am aware that is not healthy, and even a lifetime of meditating and studying Buddhism can’t stop me from clinging to that label… that identity I have created for myself. It’s a sickness and I am a junky.

One could say the poetry scene is a literary circle jerk more dependent on connections and social networking than talent. That’s part of it, sure, and that’s the easier pill to swallow. Really though, if anyone to blame it is I for believing anyone would care. It’s even more likely my fault for not crafting poetry or prose good enough to demand attention. I’ve been far surpassed by my peers, and they deserve all the success they receive because making any strides in the arts is tough as hell. But maybe I should stop deluding myself with the lie that they are better at socializing and networking than me… and maybe come to terms with the fact that they are simply much better writers and sound artists, and I am just not as fucking good as I thought I was.

I doubt I’ll ever stop writing or making sound, but I increasingly don’t see the purpose in publishing. Yet here I am hypocritically publishing this rant to my blog. The thing is I need to get it out, and the only reason I am comfortable enough to post it here and be so open and honest is simply because no one is going to read it anyway.

Roaring Through The endless

After last months Burroughs compilation from Church Of The Noisy Goat, I was asked to do a full length album. Obviously, I jumped at the offer. Today I am proud to announce that album titled Roaring Through The Endless. Longtime listeners may have noticed that my sonic experiments have gotten a little less noisy over the last few years, and this is a continuation of that. The tracks on this album are noisy meditations, ambient soundscapes from dark to beautiful done mostly on Moog synths. I may be biased, but I think its among the best solo work I have done. I hope you will check it out, along with the tons of experimental and avant-garde offerings from this excellent net label.

Cutting Up Burroughs

I am very proud to be included on this compilation from Church Of The Noisy Goat entitled Cut​-​Up: A Music Compilation in Honor of William S. Burroughs. My track, under the moniker of Broken Zen is titled The Ghost Of William S Burroughs Part 2. It’s no secret Burroughs is a huge influence and the cut-up method is a tool I employ on a regular basis, so I am super stoked to be a part of this compilation. This from the label:

Listen to our second netlabel compilation. Inspired and conceived in honor of William S. Burroughs and his industrial music work by cutting loops from magnetic tapes. We surpassed our goal with 62 beautiful tracks thanks to the cooperation of all the artists who follow us and support us tirelessly. We want to thank everyone and say that we are very happy that this has happened in our history and that we can share it.

This work demonstrates that Underground is very engaged. Unreleased and previously released tracks by artists of various musical styles, which proves that the artistic genre of collage developed by William Burroughs is omnipresent and very fruitful in experimentalism. I sincerely hope that you enjoy this work in partnership that is inserted today in our Bandcamp and take a copy by Free Download (Name Your Price) and have fun with this overview of the world scene of cut and paste sounds.

Cutting Up Russolo

My cut-up poem They Burst Out Of Themselves (A Cut-up Of Luigi Russolos’ Art Of Noises) is featured in this music themed collection alongside a whole lot of talented artists!

Psalms of the Alien Buddha: Part 2 from Alien Buddha Press is now available in both a b&w edition and a color edition and is 180 pages of music themed writing and art from over 50 very talented contributors.

Alien Buddha has been making some pretty cool stuff, and I’m stoked to finally be a part. Check them out!