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Great Southern Reduction

by Arrester Bed

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1.
i feel like an invincible gust a stone orb skimming in the parallax treeline river yellow, canola green nothing could mean more than being here in your passenger seat we mark down what we see scattered jewels made for you and me my driving friend knows about a gravel grove ruled long ago to be a resting place so we lived here in a window with circumstances bending and blurring a cockatoo crying off in the distance reminds me of the days i couldn’t see the value of a place to be and when the wheels gave way to rushing air and scraping bark to dried up grease and bore-brown fence i opened my eyes and i could see the whole thing from a bird’s eye view
2.
Meltham 04:16
am i the thistle or the flowering myrtle? is a question i faced in the morning while I was packing up our clothes in the backyard for the last time. and is it the green in the garden that keeps us holed up inside together? or is it that i dream almost every time of men cutting me with pocket knives well an ember flies out of my feet everytime a car sees me cross the street everytime i think about how to dress and when i disappear for a while no one sees the sparks brighter than you but I sure would never expect you to have to stand and wait, wet towel at the ready for the first hint of a forest fire oh every day i’m thinking about that endless road we’re gonna glide down and all the passing signs and junctions towards hills i know we’ll never climb some of them flicker in and out of view some cast shadows over the car some of them have names of mountains but someone somewhere must have been pretty optimistic
3.
Snake Trails 04:33
there’s a spot i know down frankland way, on the muddy inlet i remember it kindly where there’s sea behind the hills, and the air can’t catch ya all the days fling past i felt a warm and guttural sense that there was a purpose that was the first time but there are moments when I feel, to be perfectly honest it was the last time too and if i went back there tomorrow, would I feel alright? and would you be there? would we sit above all those sticks and watch the dark surround us? i’d like to think we would well there’s time for going back, packing up and dispersing back to ditches past yea there’s a time for fucking off and makin mountain molehills but it isn’t now. no, now is anything but
4.
One night on the eyrie Where I stayed with Jackson I was remitted a terror I'll live again and again. Past the frozen hot rivers Where the mulgas are golden And all through the night Branches rattle and scream He and I went out walking Before the sun would start yawning Past the orb webs and samphire To the salt lake expanse Against my deepest insistence The hill growing in the distance Was our only sightline Once the sad starlight came. Our angled path grew steadfast Each bootstep pumping sandfalls When Jackson’s eyes deflated At the sight of the cairn. We stood before a figure Some spokesman supernatural Electric and decaying I rocked in awe and in shame and that final figure spoke When you two stood upon that eyrie Pissed into the ocean green Did the cockatoos reply to you? Did the sandalwood smell free? Did your rind really dissipate In the ants’ long, long exchange From the rivermouth at Fitzy To your home on the range? he spoke again to conclude it might look like Life was shit forever Here in this dried up creek But tonight I find myself Prepared to finally speak. Boys, lock that x-trail Drive it north along my cheek To the bottom of Lake Argyle That’s where you’ll find your trees.
5.
6.
If i had a car i'd go out upper swan top off my paypass on thirty hammer n tongs scout out the wind head east for the rain Leave the door wide open leave the phone to erupt there’s a figure the ditchside his feet are unfailing he fingers my window and says to me such: Well, the road is a pill a place for water to land surrounded with sand behind yer polyurethane hands and it curls up and ties hills together There's a station i know belongs to nobody now the cow fence was bowled down flomaxtra comes stinging in the sky’s way down inside I hear bronzewings retreating It’s a sweltering seat where I’ve placed myself now my eyes left my head and inside’s weepin out leakin the story final scenes of a youth There's a terminal flair to the voice in the air as it cuts up my limbs leaves me dry in the skin i crawl near, the gully appears. This gravel's judging this month is repeating the car charred and bleating hot on the trail of a dust cloud reflecting the colour of my thought as I'm leaving Into that crag where I'm seen screaming grisly off-white grass finally castrates my being oh i am a wickerthing i hope myself and bones explode out into meaning
7.
Yilgarn 03:37
8.
we were walking thru the streets of ashfield honeyeater sat upon the windshield magpie scraping up a porch arrangement wagtail turned up when he hesitated corella roving looking for a helping hand baudins mourning for their deceased homeland kookaburra eyed us from a yard birdbath major mitchell gave his last bronchitis laugh but only the crows were singin today for this dying ‘scape, there’s nothing left to say.
9.
Sometimes seeing the river Is pointing nowhere But all the condemned faculties Of some honest work horse In a stolen chop shop cycle Sometimes seeing the river Reflects only important stars Diving birds deliver letters Then take only what they need Horizons on all sides Sometimes seeing the river Is a sunlit hammerhead Plucking out the pavement Pipes and grounding wires From borrowed flophouses Sometimes there is no river Just a broken fountain Spitting on open concrete Soaking up nothing but the heat Only sometimes dreaming -------------------------------- Sometimes we go past landmarks And notice only the smaller things Not how the road might often loop around Not all the sidestreets with familiar names Not the whole hillside gleaming So when I saw Mount Observation I thought it would be the final time That all the patterns were congealing Shining light on a place for me And my temporary archives Please remember always Stay surprised by what’s round the bend When we sometimes get wet Let’s let wind do the drying Don’t try to own these things

about

Recorded intermittently between 2019 and 2021.
Written and recorded on stolen Whadjuk and Kalamaia lands.

credits

released March 18, 2022

H. Manson - Acoustic guitar, vocal, synth, mixing
Drew Krapiljanov - Electric guitar, effects, tape recording
Laurent Shervington - Bass guitar
Jeremy Segal - Drums

Mastered by Thomas Manson

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Arrester Bed WA, Australia

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