David Maranha: Marches Of The World

david maranhaA fog continuously rising up and up, scraping the pinnacling edge of a steamy avalanche made by computers. A droning accordion-simulator was created by a mountain-dwelling universe culture of drug-rug clad androids who accidentally spilt goats milk into it and are now rushing around, nervous about who will be punished, trying to sop it up with paper towels from the staff bathroom. Their bolts bustle in their nuts, clocking and clanking around to Tibetan lowland heights, Helena running a snow-cat over the Himalayas so that the wondrous cave organ created there in the 3rd century AD can be brought down to sea-level on a complex trading-off between Sherpas and a grizzly android ski-patrol. It whirls and whirls, short of breath and choking at the high altitude, carefully guided on straps held tightly by the guilty robots who wish it back to health, their circuit beards frozen with tears, though the milk inside of the organ won't freeze, like old old vodka. Also, the vodka is stoned and from Portugal. And the goat's milk is fairly old, imported by boat from the former Danish empire to other colonial banks. From sea-level all that you can really catch of the radio transmissions up on the stormy mountain is collected here on compact disc. David Maranha: Marches Of The World - Grain Of Sound/A-Musik :: www.grainofsound.com, see also Reviews: Organ Eye (Staubgold), March 07.