Steel Dangerous - Blue Curaçao Demons [cs + digital]

$11.00

Steel Dangerous - Blue Curaçao Demons [cs + digital]

$11.00

Steel Dangerous
Blue Curaçao Demons

McPhee has his oranges, Adler her speedboat, and Gent his Kent.

On this corner, some teenagers saw Frogman. Here is the bar stool where he slapped that one guy or two or three. Out on the sidewalk, a half eaten bag of frozen shrimp thaws under a blue sky. Don’t mention the sky, the Sun, the sunset. He didn’t call you to talk about the weather. In fact, we aren’t taking any callers today. Cut the lines. Press the red button. The Moth Cock Monologues. A stranger on the porch. Shadow man pranks. Indoor allergens. Plastic. Symphony seats. Feline behavior through vaults of conspiracies and theories, anecdotes and antics, laraha bitters and blue Bols. The whole world’s gone to market. The vermouth has vanished and we’ve cleaned up the Maraschino. Now that the cabinet is dry, it’s time to go missing persons at the festival, grab some brunch while the cops knock on our neighbor’s door.

I’ve been missing gaps of vital information. Waking up in places with no recollection, noir-punched next to shrimp. Just as often during this pilgrimage, degenerative instrumentals loosely apply the idiom of everything. A collection plate of Jupiter, kora, and practice sax spinning and hoisted up into cloudy days of carnival confections, carousel on the rotisserie spit, nausea. Curved mirrors commune with the spins, the thumps, the rings, the beeps, the creeps. It’s clear as day that the night will be long. Grab your kora, hit record, there’s no cure for the restive mind.

Doug Gent - kora, practice sax, vocals, Jupiter
Analog mastering in real-time by Jack Callahan

26 tracks - 92 minutes - hi-fi ferro normal bias - color j-card - pink case - pink cassettes with orange pad print