Artikel om #366: A life lived på Side-line.com

Artikel om #366: A life lived på Side-line.com

Vårt electro/industriband #366: A life lived tillägnades en artikel i måndags på det stora belgiska online-musikmagasinet Side-line. Så här skriver de bl a:

#366 A Life Lived might be a new band, the band members are far from newbies. They did hard industrial electro in the nineties as Slug and Headtrip Inc. with demo productions for the latter by Covenant’s Eskil Simonsson (”Pure past” 2-track single digitally released on Electric Fantastic Sound in October 2006) and S.P.O.C.K.’s Christer Hermodsson (”MRC Session” 2-track demo). Members shifted and the band broke apart after a gig in Germany in 2001. The ‘originals’ got together again in 2011 and formed ‘#366 A Life Lived’ with a more experimental electro.

Says the band: ”We were young, drank lot on gigs and misbehaved. We don’t want that anymore. We want the core of music, preferably the electronic version.”‘

Läs mer på Side-Line här: http://www.side-line.com/news_comments.php?id=49167_0_2_12_C

#366: A life lived på webben
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soundcloud.com/366alifelived
youtube.com/366alifelived
reverbnation.com/366alifelived
twitter.com/366alifelived

 

Gravity

I haven’t been so lonely
I haven’t been so cold
I haven’t been so angry
Since before I wasn’t told

I can’t mind
I can’t mind
I can’t mind no more

I haven’t been so dirty
I haven’t been so small
I haven’t been so fucked up
Since I threw open the door

I don’t mind
I don’t mind
I don’t mind

I’m not sure that I saw you
On the other street that day
I really thought you did
But I won’t carry that whole weight

I have nothing
I have nothing
Nothing else

Before I even knew you
I was welcomed to the stage
To so many jacked up matters
And the way that I had felt

This is goodbye
This is goodbye
This is goodbye

Clean sheets, dirty life

It’s hard to hear much, the sound of life is so loud. Society street runs close and noisy in front of us, like a tv with full frequency range, without a remote.

We step out on the rational sidewalk, lit with endlessly blinking and clanking machines. Middleway traffic’s so heavy you can’t see the opposite side, but that’s where we want to go. Red lights, pushing people and coughing, grinding vehicles makes it a frightening struggle to cross, but we push back and press on.

On the emotional sidewalk it’s worryingly silent and dark. It used to bathe in the comforting music of a good life lived, like the friendly humming of a dishwasher left going over night. But only the hollow echo of random opposite-side merchandize leaks through, trashing its sterile sound bleeps between the abandoned houses. I notice cracks in the paving stone where the old bands used to play.

We kickstart a dead street lamp and gather around the light. The new shadows reduce our visibility and grows the pavement cracks larger. A moving, low frequency rumble starts to roll from a cross street. It’s out of our sight but in our control. It’s not much but we can work with it. We have bad memories. We are not perfect. But we have sound experience. We have train wrecks of emotional loops that can be sampled and put in a logical sequencential railway.

It will make sense. We owe that much to our sidewalk and the humming dishwasher.