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Alchemical Postcards

by The Chasms

Alchemical Postcards cover art
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1.
09:04
info
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2.
11:15
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3.
05:22
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4.
09:07
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5.
05:30
lyrics
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6.
10:01
lyrics
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about

Recorded in a barn on the Isle of Man using...

Snare
Floor Tom
Westone - Thunder I Bass
Rocktek - Metalworker
Devi Ever - Hyperion
Trace Elliot - 7215 Bass Amp
Fender - Bass VI Baritone Guitar
Rickenbacker - 360
Don Audio - Buggane Tube Amp
Don Audio - Dual Drive Buggane Tube Amp
Don Audio - Barrule Bluesman Tube Amp
The Squarewave Parade - Teaspoon CAS
Malekko - Barker Assmaster Germanium
Malekko - Chicklet
Malekko - id300 dark
Mountain King - Megaligth
Foxrox- Captain Coconut 2
Devi Ever - Aenima
Fairfield Circuitry - Randy's Revenge
Grendel - Drone Commander
Bugbrand - Modular
Bugbrand - Bugcrusher
Violin
Hazel’s Provisions
The Barn…

credits

released 22 August 2011
All the artwork for Alchemical Postcards was done by Graeme Swinton. www.swinton.me
Ta La.

There is a special 10 page booklet for Alchemical Postcards you can download (right click etc. It's 50mb)...
www.thechasms.co.uk/releases/alchemical_postcards_10_page_booklet.pdf

With added thanks to Dandelion Radio and Cindytalk for their support. Thank you.

tags

tags: experimental pop Isle of Man

license

all rights reserved

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about

A three piece band from the Isle of Man.

contact / help

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For all other inquiries, click here.

Track Name: A Copse of Trees
The dreamt landscape of The Ayres provokes a little fear
Such as that felt by dogs for their masters
Croft nearby, long gone
Reason for planting this copse of trees is unclear
Unclear
Held shot
Static camera
This allows the imagination to enter
What will occur here?
Allow the characters to enter separately please
The copse, a stage
Let them act out what this place implies

Woman, mid thirties, trouser suit, dark blue
Small case which she places carefully down, and then picks up again
Every ten steps she does this as if carrying something very heavy
Sunlight
Herself at the edge of clouds
Shadows, clean shadows, cloud shadows
Seen now from further away
Wide screen
Slow progress of her steps towards the trees
The trees barely move in the wind
The geography of the sky mapped out on the land
We reflect
Who wishes to read it?

Cut to close-up of the case covered in stickers
Hotels in France, Germany, America
Case edged in black
Camera closer still
Camera closer still
Something inside
Some history, some kind of history
A scratching noise
Scratching noise

Close up of her face
Looks directly into the camera
Descend into slow motion as she closes her eyes
Cut to darkness

The case interior
Scratch
Scratch
Scratch
Scratch

History
Why bring history here?
Last thing that happened here was a glacier
Then the copse, nothing else
This place does not encourage event other than nature, which it could not prevent
It would have done if it could have done
Why bring history here?

Rainfall
Second character emerges from the dunes
Avoids the remains of a fire
Broken bottle glass
Perhaps he is part of the rain
Sudden grey eyes, shifting
How does the rain appear?
He appears middle aged, black suit, pained
Runs a hand through the hair, overlong, un-businesslike
A tattoo on the back of the left hand
Cassiopeia, the constellation, picked out in tiny blue dots
What does he represent?
What coalesced within him
The outward signs indicate purpose
And unease
He is ours to guess upon

Cut to shot amongst trees
Sound of breath
Sighs
Low notes

Perhaps a cello
Movements at the boundary
Not the characters so far introduced
Others are here
We are not close enough to identify
Unfocused
Show the faces you have
Please show the faces you have
No, never mind

Cut to darkness
Cut to a shot of the copse
Sky altered
Darker, darker
Perhaps we have woken up something

Plane overhead, light aircraft
A distracting narrative

Another character
We see only his back
He holds a book
How long do we see him?
He holds a book
What book?
Show your face
Show your face

I can't make them
Why can't I make them?

They are not my characters
These are not my characters
These are not my characters
These are not my characters
They are not mine
They are not mine

The coalesced figures at the edge of the frame darting now
Footfall on dead ground
They are barely here
As I am barely here
As I am barely in this place

Reveal the book, the fiction
Reveal the fiction
Holds it to his face
Turns to camera

Airplane noises return
Man disappears
Book becomes transparent
Layered words drift through the frame
Reappear
Distant now
Becoming several movements obscured by text

Scene fades
A few words stay
Unfocused
Unwelcome
Unfocused
Unwelcome
Unfocused
Unwelcome
Unfocused
Unwelcome
Track Name: Circus Beach Incident
No one turned up for the first show, just the tide.
And she only wanted to see the clowns.
She pushed around the edges of the ring when they came out, hissing her approval.
And she sloped of afterwards.
I said 'next time bring some paying customers with you'.

A storm came in the following day.
It felt like the season was dead before it had got going.
I knew what the weather would do.
The families would stay in their guesthouses playing Ludo.
Fathers in the lounge bar moaning at the tariffs, moaning at the cold as the horse trams carried on without custom.
And the municipal award winning brass band knocks out Elgar to rows of empty seats down at the sea terminal.
Ferry delayed, reason given... apathy.

And we had no expectations of the day.
But the tide brought in a crowd.
And what a crowd.
65 lost men. The drowned, long dead.
Ushered into their seats by the dove grey sea.
I sent out the dwarves to get what they could by way of admission fee.
They did alright.
Old coins, briny watches, a medal or two, documents on oil skin, weathered pictures.
Enough.

So we gave them a show.
I can't say they were the warmest of audiences.
But we've had worse.
The sea took them away afterwards.

I gave her a postcard by way of thanks.
It was a portrait of herself.
Storm Scene, Douglas Promenade, 1910.
'Ah, how young I look' she said, 'how beautiful'.
'I'll bring more tomorrow' she said.
'They like clowns too'.

So we get a different audience in here these days.
The living tend to stay away.
They're fussy about what they sit next to.
But who cares.
Full house is full house.