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Anarchy for Art A3 Sketchbook Text
Acrylic paintings on A3 sketchbook pages. PVA glued to thick cardboard. Individually hand stamped NATURES ORDER. Manifestos on the backs.
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Getting some Rochester songs ready for Emma tomorrow. Pedals are Zoom G5 on 23.2 (MATCH30), Subnup octaver with everything on full, except sub2, on 5. Boss Acoustic simulator AC-2 on Jumbo, Level full, body and top on 5. Loop station RC-1, with its terrible double-tap stop function that means you can’t stop the loop without losing your playing rhythm. Digitech drop pedal for bass. TC-electronics Spark pedal on full. Guitar on back pick all tones full.
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spark boost and subnup octave pedals. subnup setting, all on full except sub2-5. spark on full. drum machine on broken dogs Rock-130bpm. farmer loop guitar on guitar vol-6. top button undone: dilated lines, police there.
https://www.instagram.com/p/B3hMuHBngtD/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
Emma Pugmire and Edgeworth – band practice at Black Ivory Printmaking Club – 11 oct 2019.
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Rochester is my third studio album. At the same studio that did my first two, Ranscombe Studios in Rochester. 10 songs.
Download from Bandcamp (£7.99)
1. Fellow Pianist
2. Police there
3. In error
4. Dilated lines
5. Men like to reign
6. Chair
7. Overall
8. Summers day
9. Waiter
10. Spinner maid
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Waiter
Disembowel the metric.
You were unmade to me.Like a polish.
Waiter, stand.
I found it.
The pronounce.Pepper it on.
Waiter isn’t swayed.
The motor is a fish.
Pass it off as meat.
Palm oil your dish.I would have liked it in summer.
You bow a knee to your friends.
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Dilated lines
I had dilated lines
and they make short defence of you
because they’re only tasting mine
and the mud was in the paddock with you.The maid laid the barrel they’re in.
Need coffee now to loosen their tongue.
It’s a man with his feeling hands.
Pretending everything he says is so dumb.Embalm my lazy leg for me
and watch how the children will sway.
Cut my founders out some/their meat
todaySomebody braided their tongues.
Into caterpillar once was fed.
The only free thinker in the village
is the one everyone calls ‘the idiot’.Motors at the ready. They deplete.
Cameras at the helm, and they’ll rot.
The power houses horses have been fed.
The cameramen have all been shot.Undulating lines.
It buried in the hand.
The leg was rash.
The neighbours maid was laid before me
with lance.There was marrow in his hands.
The man was laid.
Romanced.
The day before me.
I had no plans that day, so.We had marrow in balance.
It made me do no revision.
The man. This hands.
Television for me.
I see lance.
It’s almost a morning song.Unknewn to youth.
I made their plans.
It’s a battle for their plans.
Edgeworth Johnstone 