The Golden Apples of the Sun

“Medicinal plants, strange berries, thick pollen, and brown dirt. Hailing from Texas, the Book of Shadows live in the soil trodden on by Jandek and Charalambides, sprouting from those voices, those guitar sounds. This secretgarden will grow on you, it’s roots will envelope you, it’s beauty overwelm you. Alternating between composition and improvisation the guitars echo down like the rain, drones warm the ground, thorny notes scrape up against the fragile skin of Sharon Crutcher’s voice. Water your minds, shine from behind your eyes.”

“Smoke inhaled and blown out into the wide oceania sky. The moon just became brighter. Pathways revealed by songlines through high planes, drifting inward through oblivion. Ancestral footsteps, creaking cellos, smeared brown analogue electronics, alchemy rising, drums expanding, tied together by a delicate web of guitars… ”

“Fossils crushed into dust, distilled into it’s purest form, no overdubs, no effects, no residue. Are these severe abstractions or disorientation by rare clarity? Basements dug into a bone filled ground. A lonely metal machine grinds out music, scraping it’s way past the ghostly clouds of Steeltown’s dark legacy. Confusing times indeed.”

THE FOLKWASTE LIBRARY