Between Heaven and Hell
26-track
album of spoken word, atmospheric and doom-laden
recordings; moans & chants, mysticism & magic,
poetry, folk & nursery rhymes; bird-mask paganism and
dog-face demons, and babies thrown downstairs.
Between
Heaven and Hell is a sublime example of natural forces
hard at work in the vigorous entertainment of the senses:
the first of the soul; the second of the body. And it is
therefore with great pleasure that we commit this body to
the ground, get paid for our efforts, and in spirit rise
effortlessly and phantasmically to the great beyond,
a-wailing and a-moaning as we go.
Collaboration
incestuous by nature between the artist and somnambulist
extraordinaire, The Phantom, did result in the spiritual
disembodiment and traumatic birth-pleasures of spoken word
and dark ambient imaginisms. It is not insignificant that
empathy played its part in the ecstatic regeneration of
body-parts in murmur-magic, and in the unholiness of time
from which The Phantom (in her symbiotic relationship with
the poet) gained much profit. It was while in this deep
ditch of whorish pleasure that The Phantom made sounds of
a frightful nature, utterances most strange, audible to
mortal men and cloistered nuns which the enviable poet was
later able to record on a 4-track tape.
We
particularly enjoy the exhilaration of spoken word. In
order to obtain ecstatic breathlessness we shout with a
loud shout into the microphone - the ‘meat of god’ is
recorded, and we are well pleased with ourself. So much so
that the desire to excite compassion with low moans often
proceeds from mournful chants, and we despatch the dead
with general applause. We play tapes backwards, fabricated
for sinister purposes; and, in the prime of life, we
recite nursery rhymes, as if the dread ghost of Constance
Kent is upon us. It is an obscure eccentricity, between
heaven and hell. The whole of English folkery and whimsy
will bring men to discover a thousand strange events; and
women, being swooned away at the taking of the pins, will
run a course of all diseases of the head. This
unrestrained indulgence excites pity amongst the rascal
classes. But we shout our thoughts loud and clear, whence
they become words of terror for which we gladly encounter
torture and death.