So the second set of my hyper-photo series “A Tax of Images” has been instituted.
That once-attractive Sigur Ros review did not exactly fit into my schedule, though I should briefly say how much I highly recommend all the tracks on it, if only because the album rouses and rattles, through its dichotomous ease and halter, just as the band once pacified and incapacitated with all those floating capabilities and angelic intoxicants.
Another artist from Iceland has recently caught my attention as well. It’s strange that I noticed I had some Olafur Arnalds deep on my external drive, and I am still not quite sure how I was once able to give him a listen and yet still ended up burying him with a marked “this is a good artist” nod. In essence, he and his hauntingly Romantic beach-house eulogies and dirges of to-be-passing static go well with both reconnaissance imagining and imaging.
In other directions, I have some Mayakovsky on the way, and some “antipoetry” too. Combined with Philip Roth, Thomas Mann, and Rexroth translations, my eyes will be full.
Also, I am suiting up my troubled spirits for the holiday that’s right around the corner, which I will indeed be posting a full report on.
gbem1