Spoken Word, Comedy, Poetry, With Music

17 MP3 Songs
SPOKEN WORD: With Music, SPOKEN WORD: Comedy



Details:
Rumors have been rampant for years. Of a secret society of poets and musicians that convenes for mad jam sessions that stretch into the wee hours. They swill tequila, leap over fire pits, and howl at the moon. They burn currency and curse high authority. Cultural references are tossed about like confetti and wild swings taken at iconic piñatas. Drums are pounded, guitars strummed, and voices raised to the heavens. At this point, absinthe might serve to quell the madness, or perhaps psychoanalysis might do the trick, but neither are available. Instead, strange rantings spill forth, tyranny is assailed, injustices protested, and conventions turned upside down. Lucid Screaming is in session. Gritos lúcidos!

âWeâll build a dream house of loveâ

On Arcanarama, the Lucid gang attempts to explain love, abductions, and other fundamental mysteries of the universe. We begin with the romantic lounge stylings of Vince Cummings, who sings the classic âEast of the Sun, West of the Moonâ as diners are summoned to their seats.

âIn some countries the rain falls upâ

Of course, romance isnât always so romantic, and some âSunday Driversâ have little choice but to engage in absurdist dialogue and then fuck like wild animals in the long cool grass by the lake. Before driving on in silence. Freud memorably wondered what it is that members of the fairer sex truly seek, and he is answered in âWhat I Really Wantâ by an anonymous female on the internet, who describes the smoldering passion she seeks in âa committed relationship.â âFraction Smithâ is driven to drink when his baby leaves him (âat least that is what she saidâ), while âLove, the Wandering Emuâ explores the extremes of love, comparing it to a âfiring squad of angelsâ and a âhierophantic pageant on Saturnâs rings,â among other things. However, love may not be in the cards if you travel to Main Street and there meet âEsmerelda the Indifferent,â a gipsy fortuneteller full of dark tidings.

âGot milked? Well I have â plenty of times.â

Encounters of a different sort are captured in âFoo 43,â an Osgoodian epic here sampled by Lord. It tells of WWII pilots who spotted UFOs (âfoo fightersâ) and were doped up to make them forget what theyâd seen, and also refers to the mysterious death of Secretary of Defense James Forrestal (âGuess they tried to make it look like a hookerâ), who some say had contact with the visitors. âThe Green Mistressâ shows that non-fatal contact with aliens is possible, when a rural couple has a âmissing timeâ experience on a desert highway and encounters a green goddess they reckon will âdo her spawning high in orbit.â And âProbed Like Meâ is a disturbing tale of big-headed grey aliens who want samples, and lots of them.

âYeah, rightâ¦â

Osgood brings us back to earth when he elaborates on the phrase âlife is like a box of chocolates,â and we are faced with some unsettling fudge-encased truths. Once we also parse the terrible truth of consumerism in âRead the Labelâ and see that even alternate universes are full of âlust and fear and follyâ (âParallel Postcardâ), then we have little choice. We are compelled to seek the counsel of Robert Bly and kindred spirits, to go off in the woods to beat âdrunken drumsâ and unleash our true selves, buried by years of guilt and sorrow and brainwashing. Unfortunately, the Lucid gang does not find solace in such rituals, nor release. Instead, what happens is most unfortunate: chaos and madness ensue. The drum circle goes terribly awry.

âDonât give me that flamma-jammaâ

We must embrace our inner âwhang krang,â as well as the âarcanaramaâ that swirls all around us. We must renounce savings-and-loan scandalmeister Charles Keating and we must heed Dr. Ruth, as we âgrok ân roll.â True lucidity requires that we channel Mississippi bluesmen, that we scream at glowing green meteors that no one else sees, that we drink fine imported ales until dawn, that we mock jihads and crusades, that we mourn the passing of Dr. Gonzo and the Quiet Beatle, and that we seek what lies east of the sun and west of the moon. Yes, this is the Lucid way. Or so say the rumorsâ¦