The latest from Potion Café.
This one is called “Satellite”. Yours truly on drums.
Have a listen HERE.
Popularity: 59% [?]
Song: “Satellite”
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Review: Colin Frangicetto’s “My Brother’s Ears / My Sister’s Eyes”
From guitarist Colin Frangicetto comes “My Brother’s Ears / My Sister’s Eyes,” a ten song album released under the moniker “Psychic Babble”.
The music combines one part melancholy with two parts eerie, and the haunting, echoing vocals leave the listener reaching for something by which to balance themselves, yet enjoying the confusion all the while.
Multi-part harmonies and fluid guitar work come through on all the tracks, and are particularly impressive on track five, “You Said It”. The driving drum beat, sliding bass guitar, and backup vocals move the album along quite nicely and remind the audience that, while the immanently singable softer songs make up the majority of the record, there is a strong backbone to Frangicetto’s compositions. Right in the middle of the album, “You Said It” spurs the album along firmly, while retaining many stylistic similarities to the other pieces, and thus creating a very coherent whole. This ability to write music in a variety of flavors while using repeat ingredients is what we come to know as character, and is rare indeed, as many musicians are ultimately singular in their sound.
Mournful as Frangicetto’s music seems, there are undertones of hopefulness and lightheartedness, or perhaps awe and adventure. With an almost child-like sense of wonder, songs like “Nothing Familiar” and “Let Me Change” remind one of the fantastic and bizarre – a trait common in the music of Frangicetto’s most well known group, Circa Survive.
Drawing from moods of the alternative, experimental, and folk variety, “My Brother’s Ears / My Sister’s Eyes” is quite a creation to behold. As track one (“Five Fold Kiss (Don’t Sleep)”) suggests, many listeners may be left conscious through the late hours of their days, dazed in the wake of Frangicetto’s new album, a work reminiscent of the best kinds of modern music.
Find Psychic Babble on facebook HERE.
Popularity: 68% [?]
Ficly: Erica and the Bear
Ficly about a woman and a moment of existentialism that might have cost her.
Erica turned from the window to look at the bear through the fog.
The house was caught in a perpetual gloom, every corner darker than the last, and the only light seemed to be the ultra-pale blue that slid through the think murky windows to spill across the floor and walls. She was in the kitchen, the sink on, splashing about the dirtied dishes from her solitary dinner the night before.
Candlesticks on the table, two places set, but she ate alone.
And now, her back to the sink and the rain outside, she looked across the wood floors that moaned under each step, and out to the back door. The mahogany paneling on the walls showed a silvery hue in the daylight, which felt more like moonlight in the weather.
A cool, misty chill crept across the back of her neck. The animal meandered about the yard for a while, its unkempt fur matted with mud and water. Small eyes recessed in its thick skull watched her occasionally.
She might have closed the screen door, for that was all that remained in the doorway of the old house, but something seemed so docile about the creature. She hesitated to obstruct her view of its magnificence. Even in the damp air, out in the wet grass of the field-like lawn that lay beyond the porch, this bear commanded her awe.
It snorted and growled, and eventually found the courage to enter the house, lumbering as was its way.
Some of those who knew her say they can still hear her screams when they close their eyes, but Erica lives in the south-land now. When people stop and point at what is left of her, others tell them to hush, and that it was a landmine or an accident of some sort. She is treated as a hero.
Popularity: 50% [?]
Poem: Might Have Been a Friend in the End
I wrote this today. Surprising uninspired by anything in my life. Enjoy!
Might Have Been a Friend in the End
Kid got lucky,
in those first few years,
played some songs,
we bought him a few beers.
One night around Jimmy the keep,
we listened and thought,
about where the Kid was,
and the life he had bought.
Cause one night he packed up and left,
down a one way street,
somewhere in Harlem,
Jimmy, Fekman, and I, still tapping our feet.
Found something better,
on the other side,
he must have thought,
stick on the metal of ride.
The band spend some time on the road,
and we watched him get a little lost,
he’d never call, not his thing, or ours for that matter.
We were the old shoe that he tossed.
We were proud,
like three men watching someone
we never knew but cared about,
out in the world having some fun.
After a while,
got wind of the next big thing.
Skipped one of his albums,
and gave my girl a ring.
There were other things on my mind
for a while, and the lights on the Kid’s stage had to dim.
And if he had forgotten from where he came,
then where he came from was just eventually going to forget him.
No one blamed him,
he had things he wanted to do,
and when he left home,
it was a few days before any one knew.
With friends like us,
it’s no wonder he left.
I just hope he never thought,
that to his music, I was deaf.
Popularity: 59% [?]
Protected: Short Story: Suburbia
Popularity: 58% [?]
