When We Stay In Our Chambers

It is Thursday, and it is February, and ask anyone you like, but that is not often the best place to be. Such are the depths that the dark midwinter continues to drag me to, I’m only leaving the house between the hours of three and four in the morning to buy cupasoups from the 24 hour corner shop. I haven’t seen the sun in weeks, and as a result, I’ve become more or less translucent. People take one look at my pallid demeanour, and run screaming for their mothers. My hair has grown long and unkempt, my eyes are rheumy. My only friends live in the magic picture box. It’s possible I may never again know the loving touch of another human being. I am truly alone.

No – this is not often the best place to be.

But hey – enough of all this gloomy nonsense. I’m a glass half full kind of guy, so let’s look at the bright side. All this confinement to my small, dingy room has allowed ample time to take advantage of the generosity of whatever near neighbour hasn’t locked up their broadband connection, and traverse the information future highweb looking for twinkling musical stars amongst an increasingly underwhelming firmament.

Lord Auch have risen from the grave of the occasionally enjoyable yet rarely grieved Black Wire, but instead of sticking to what they know have descended into a reflectively PiL-ish fear and loathing, and sit somewhere on an empty island surrounded by a sea of doubt where they shout out to the vast expanse about grief, and it echoes back and swirls around and around until they can’t hear themselves screaming, but realise they don’t have anything more to say.



Lord Auch – Great Big Ulcers Of Grief


Very few of the earth people ever really get a proper grasp of what time is all about, it’s the size of their tiny heads you see, just can’t take it all in, try and get away from a linear understanding, and it’s straight off to mentalville. Which is fortunate, because that’s where The Ice Cream Headaches live, spooling the thoughts from their collective twisted time squashing minds into a primitive recording cell, and then letting them loose on day release. There are moments when their thoughts exceed the frequencies that you and I can deal with, but stick with them, and they will stick with us.



The Ice Cream Headaches – Circuits Of Time


Nothing saddens me more than an unloving uncaring world that has turned its back on a fallen hero, forgotten they ever existed, moved on to the next bright young thing, forgotten what they owe them, forgotten that without them, maybe they wouldn’t actually be here in the first place. Iron Pirate is not like that. Iron Pirate remembers the heroes, and will not let us forget. Iron Pirate remembers that the future will be saved by robots, and they will do it to an accompaniment of the lightest metal that only the most skilful of smiths can produce, and it will tell their stories like the minstrel songs of before.



Iron Pirate – Path Of Unicron


I leave you now. It’s minestrone time.


Tiny Dancer


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