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Digitalis

by Magic Bullet

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about

There was a garden, a small square of grass, barely big enough for the plastic table and chairs that occupied its area in finer weather. Away from the trellis and rose, symbolically standing beneath his window, an abacus smouldered in an aged mesh incinerator. The acrid smoke would drift in through the open fanlight, impinge his vision and taunt him as he sat for a non-specific period of time in front of his screen. As he stared, occasionally tending to his stinging eyes with a moist tissue, the monitor would flicker, subliminally suggesting an alternative to his wilful abstinence.

He had heard the stories of others who had successfully made the transition, but surely these were just unfounded rumours, spread by devilment and the wish to keep him in his place. He worked, he ate, he slept, what more could a man expect? However, on the other side of the screen, things were said to be different, and he could not help but wonder if perhaps there were more to these tales than malicious gossip. He pushed his fingers at the screen, bitterly frustrated that they would not pass through the glass.

Days passed, days became weeks, weeks became months, months become years, years became lifetimes, and still he shouted commands at a disinterested tide. On looking down, he realised his feet were wet, his trainers stained with the salt from the ocean. A new sense of determination came over him, he began to shout statements of self-affirmation at the walls of his self-constructed prison. But every attempt would fail and he would fall despondent into the darkest folds of his own mind. He had returned from the dead for this?

And then came a day when he could not think of another excuse that he had not heard a thousand times before. Solemnly, he sat in front of the monitor and rested his forehead against the screen. To his utter amazement, his head began to move forward, his eyes passing through the glass to the strange new world behind, fearful of disbelieving, should the whole experience dissolve before him. Change, it seems, was always inevitable. Time, it seems, was always an arrow that flows in a single direction.

credits

released October 25, 2020

All tracks conceived and realised by Mick Magic & Skit Zoyd
Published by Mmatterial
Recorded and mixed in The Mmatterialisation Chamber,
3rd - 12th October 2019
Produced by Dr. Albert M. Tron Ps.D
Digitalis ℗ 2020 Music & Elsewhere
All accompanying artwork, poetry and prose by Mick Magic
© 2020 Music & Elsewhere
No musical instruments were harmed in the making of this album

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about

Mick Magic England, UK

Formed psychotronic / experimental rock band Magic Moments At Twilight Time in 1986, went on to produce 13 albums across the following decade (with varying line ups). Founded the Music & Elsewhere underground tape label in 1992, releasing 600 titles up to 2003. A lost decade, then released some digital collections from 2013-19, now recording again with broad spectrum experimentalists Magic Bullet. ... more

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