Just checking in

It has been ages since i wrote here - little reason - Just not much to share - and i harbor disdain for the current zeitgeist of narcissistic idolatry. Facebook, myspace and blogging. I hate people who self worship at these holy cyberspaces. Man i hate myself.

If you want to know a bit about what i've been up too, creatively speaking, then check out www.myspace.com/chottomattemusic We're playing stacks of gigs - and the ethos behind the music has evolved significantly.

Otherwise - living in Fitzroy. Teaching at a school in Glenroy (and absolutely loving it!). And still singing. My teacher turns 86 tomorrow. Happy Birthday Myra. I love you.

Oh, Culture vultures should quest for scraps at www.openculture.com This is my new favourite site in the whole pathetic joke of a universe.

Nokta . from Onur Senturk on Vimeo.

Merci , adieu

Actually, i think this one is better...

Sitting in my room, I regard each breath,
I feel my feet, my hands, my eyes in my head
And each breath in, each breath out.
I remember that I am in Melbourne, and that one day I shall die.
I hear the timber creak and a tram shuffle past at the end of the street.
I hear a saxophone and children playing with a ball, I see one of them slip and graze his knee.
I see a balloon floating on the breeze and imagine a dog sniffing at dry grass by a wire fence.
I remember my friends and the faces of my parents. I think of the sky changing colour at day break in spring, and how exciting summer is until the real heat arrives. I remember that I have a brother and a sister, I remember and I forget again.
I feel my back and imagine a forest growing between my shoulders. A white bird without eyes perches on my finger and looks for bugs beneath my nails. I remember something funny and I forget again. A fly buzzes past my ear and I see myself at work, making drinks, writing notes, singing songs. I dance around a corner and step over a chair. Spider webs hung in a corner sway and stretch. The floor moans and I remember my mother, sitting on a couch and looking so tired. I ask her to dance with me, but she looks away and stares at the wall. I feel angry because she is not old, but seems to wish she was.
I think of the future, the past and castles on a beach. I see art and music and each breath in, I see ships out at sea. Like tiny leaves, my thoughts are carried by water in a drain. A sun asphyxiated by cloud casts diamonds on the wind, making me cover my eyes. I see my body on the floor, doing push ups. I hear the ocean.
But I am none of these things. I am not even the sound of a tram shuffling past at the end of the street.

refuse to look at stars

The night is clear, i keep my eyes downcast, immersed in earthly struggle, i seek the moon, a twisted dance among the quiet trees, voices tempt my ear to lonely plains,
these graceful strides amid the swamp and foggy wraiths that refuse to part,
meaning has been lost, i seek the sun, and refuse to look at stars.

Come down from your mountain, oh sweet reason, and walk awhile among us.


Things we lost in the fire.

little reason

I haven't written here for some time - which does not indicate a depravity of reason. Reason for writing, reason for reflection. Little life little reason ... Reason enough. Winter has taken hold and we huddle about the hearth and squeeze turnips to amuse our inhibitions. It is dark and that is good reason to turn the lights down low. I often sit in the dark. I find it soothing to let the shadows make their offerings. We throw ideas about like a new beach ball and maybe when i have time and energy to spare i'll shove the plastic in a pot and tend to making towers grow. Maybe... this is all pretty cryptic isn't it? I apologise. We'll talk, we'll sort things out, we'll make it ok again. You still don't know who this is for. Who does this address? Is it you? Is it someone else?

I don't know. You think i tell the keys to fall?

I often have moments of darkness when the lights are on. An imaginary owl 'hoots' in my ear. Like she has a secret. Like she's washing my neck. It doesn't matter what the sun is doing. I look for leaves and get lost in the sky. An echo of anxiety strokes my cheek and i become convinced that wolves will come to fetch me. I look into my soul and find the motel has a room. 'Vacancy', 'Rooms available'. And then the fear is creeping faster than desert lizards over sand. I become convinced that soon i will be found out. My illusions shall topple from their perch and be dashed upon the tiles. You smile unwavering, you hold your own against the tide. Neptune returns to the depths, crabs scuttle under coral. It is a struggle to swim in unknown water. I reach for driftwood. I have lost my way. The stars seem cold, distant. I swallow sea water and know i'm going mad. The night grows darker. My eyes stretch upward.

A snow owl passes. 'Hoot'. And all is calm.

School is good. Work is good. Love is good.

The music keeps on playing. I shall keep on dancing.

Little reason...

reason enough.

Benjamin

recently made applied displeased

Hello,

I am living in top gear, clutch out and engine screaming. Study work music social - there is not time for stopping to stretch and reflect. My brother has been in town after returning from his summer long stint in Antarctica and i feel like i hardly saw him. Chotto Matte takes a rest for three weeks and for that i am thankful, that i may knuckle down and catch up on all the work i have been neglecting over the last few weeks. School is brilliant - theory and theorising what it means to learn - brightly burning neurons fire - i have lived and now i study life. So full to bursting. New bodies enter orbit - always exciting - distraction keeps me from sleeps that organs need to tackle turkeys. There are chickpeas in a bowl. Love is a cauliflower extending to the sky, florets like stars.

Chotto Matte played at the Ding Dong Lounge last week to a tiny audience of close friends - we do not have a name for attracting big crowds. We do not have the support required. So i will focus what energy i have on playing for venues already swingin - there are nights for noise and noisy bars - attended by splendid hungry ears. Our movements need a knowing sun - waves crash on lonely shores. A bough creaks - swing alone, swing together - a buzzing behind twisted strings.

'Are you okay?'

I think so... it is all too much. Assessment stumbles in. And the music is louder than ever before. Before you know it we'll be singing statues in gardens on the coast. Glass cracks... an imp dances sheepish.

I scream at the awkward stones - i think i hear the dawn.

Peace and pieces, probes and pores,
silent screaming and throttled caws,
Rapid release, push comes to shove,
My hands drift open, and swallow

love

Hey kids. Check out this wild stuff from the first Chotto Matte gig back in December.

nothing remains

last friday.mp3

Here is a an unadulterated recording of a an electronic/vocal jam session performed by Dave Hicks and myself last Friday the 20th of February. It is a sprawling journey through strange habitats - haunting encounters with defiant architecture. It is also the first recording directly through desk to device - so it is relatively good quality, considering our usual lo-fi approach to capturing ourselves.

There is a weird impulse to keep recordings like this under our hats, or under our seats, out of sight - but that defies the whole "nothing remains" ethos of Chotto Matte. No matter how happy we are with a particular piece of work - we let it go, let it burn, never look back.

Paper House happened last Thursday at the Glasshouse - there were many little lessons for us in the performance. Our sound has filled out with the addition of a guitar - and the use of projections added great visual accompaniment. Without wasting anytime, we bend our crests toward the ides of March.

I am reluctant to talk at length about what we do when we're on stage - i am a little superstitious... that's all.

Hope you enjoy the recording - feedback and criticism is wanted.

Benjamin