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My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy.
This is not why the four rock’n’roll hopefuls sitting in front of me at a nearby Encino recording studio called their band Ghost Town, but the similarities in origin (hard work dumb luck) and stakes (boom/bust) are too strong to ignore.
Right now, this young foursome pay rent in Hollywood, are poised to sign a label deal, and have fans around the world who send them handmade valentines, get tattoos of their lyrics, and proudly call themselves “ghosts.” Yet until recently, nobody knew who these guys were.
They didn’t even all know each other, and they certainly had no reason to be sitting in plush Triangle Studios, owned by the über-connected Red Zone Entertainment, on this late March afternoon.
Before all this, they would’ve only been permitted inside as runners, engineers, or session musicians — which basically describes their résumés heretofore. “Fifty weeks ago,” says Alix “Monster” Koochaki, 21, staring at his phone.
Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world.
Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and increase, always sex, Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.
The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me. Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,) You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.
1 I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
ZEUHL CANTERBURY RIO KRAUT & SPACE ROCK CHAMBER PROG ZAPPA ITALY SPAIN & PORTUGAL FRANCE & BENELUX UNITED KINGDOM SCANDINAVIA, BALTIC, GERMANY & OTHER EUROPEAN COUNTRIES SOUTH & CENTRAL AMERICA / MEXICO / CUBA USA, CANADA & AUSTRALIA ASIA & MIDDLE EAST EASTERN EUROPE Progressive rock had its golden age in the first half of the 70's and after a lazy decade in the 80's has really made a strong come back. ) will tell you prog is dead and again we'll give you enough information going in the opposite way.
Here are for now what we thought you'd better know.
Out in godforsaken San Bernardino County, California, is a place called Calico.