You broke your ankle falling off of a pier in 2002; wet sand clogging with the blood falling out of you. Did you jump or was the seaweed too slippy to balance on? The pool of red grew.
And the doctor said,
‘This is all I can do:
Bandage over the dead tissue.
You’re lucky you didn’t land on your head.’
That night your father cried;
He realised his sweet child had died.
In 2007 you cut yourself over some girl: you’d waited in the rain for hours all for her to curl her hair and arrive. The time had struck 10: you were still there.
And your mother said,
‘This is all I can do:
Bandage over the dead tissue.
You’re lucky you didn’t tell your dad instead.’
That night your mother hung her head:
She realised that everything she knew was dead.
In 2010 you moved away from home, trying to start fresh on your own. You found the bed too wide. The kitchen too cold.
And no-one said anything.
That night you hung your head and cried:
Everything you had ever known had died.
This album by Kenyan electronic producer rPH and poet Kins of Spade reflects on the impact of religion in their lives and society. Bandcamp New & Notable May 12, 2023
Poet Douglas Kearney and composer/producer/drummer Val Jeanty link up for a a compelling LP that feels like the written word come to life. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 30, 2021
On her new EP, Japanese producer Mikado Koko deconstructs the traditional, mixing avant-garde vocals and glitch breaks with koto. Bandcamp New & Notable Dec 15, 2020