A lost recording has been unearthed of Herfordshires premiere Acid-Folk ensemble 'The Herbsmen' playing their finest song 'Autolysis' back in the last millenium in 1991.
This historical footage has appeared along with the lost bass player Chris 'Denim Clad Warrior of Sound' Jarvis (Missing presumed having a good time).
The footage was shot during Heat 1 of the Harlow Square Rock Contest at Harlow Square deep in the cultural wasteland of Essex, decimated in the 80's during the Good-Taste Wars. The Herbsmen made it through to the final and came a close second to 'comedy' house band 'Oi, Oi Saveloy! There is no justice, nor taste in Essex!
This footage featured the original and best line-up of:
Chris Jarvis - Bass
The Reverend - Drums
Chris Evans - Rhythm Guitar, Vocals
Ben Scratcher - Lead Guitar, Vocals
A record of a time, lest we forget.
The Herbsmen play 'Autolysis' live at the Harlow Square 1991
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=65FhYyuqEiw
20061219
20061216
Jesus Electric Plugged in Appliance.
Plugged into the Source. Spiritual gifts can be compared to electrical appliances
With a nominal voltage of 230v,
"One minute we were admiring the jewelry and the next minute Jesus was missing"
Any path greater than one hundred feet is a long distance in the physics of electrical transmission.
"One minute we were admiring the jewelry and the next minute Jesus was missing"
Any path greater than one hundred feet is a long distance in the physics of electrical transmission.
20061215
The Art of Assemblage
This current exhibition at Corban Estate Arts Centre in Waitakere City, Aotearoa features contributions from various DIG alumni. One room of the exhibition is given over to Mark Whyte and the his gravitas defying 'Graviton Gravy' Show. An amazing installation of 70 individual works made from paint flakes that defies easy categorisation and at once speaks of the diverse and the generic nature of community and humanity.
(Images copyright Mark Whyte 2006)
The Art of Assemblage also features a tribute to Master Assemblagist and DIG contributor Peter Sauerbier who is sadly recently deceased and features the work of 2 other DIG acolytes The Reverend and Andrew Hall.
(Artwork copyright - The Reverend 2006)
Peter Sauerbier (Statement about Peter to accompany exhibition by The Reverend)
I first came to meet Peter Sauerbier through my wife. I was excited to hear of an amazing old Dutch assemblage artist and hoped to meet him. I did meet him and over the course of several years was lucky to get to know him better. Through him I also discovered a secret cabal of West Auckland assemblagists, each decidedly individual but all with a common love of the unloved!
I could write about the endless wonder and joy of Peters work, his innate craftsmanship, and inventiveness but you would already know of that and know how hard it is to describe so I wont.
I remember regular visits to the house for official and unofficial reasons. We would drink tea, eat Spekulaas (Dutch biscuits) and have wonderful rambling, fascinating esoteric talks. I would use the opportunity to drop in Dutch words (I lived in Holland for a year) where appropriate, which always seemed to tickle him.
I would look around his cornucopia of a house and every time would see something new that he had made.
Always in awe of his art, I was nervous asking him to contribute something to a humble zine I was producing with a friend. He contributed 2 exquisite, accomplished and funky drawings generously and without condescension. These drawings were rendered on the toilet using a specially adapted table so as not to waste precious creative time! They were the 2 most popular pieces without a doubt and with all ages and tastes. Real genius always shines through.
It was my pleasure to be able to exhibit some of his work whilst working at WCC , bending ears passionately to get a piece bought for the city collection. Here at CEAC I was privileged to be able to do the poster for the exhibition and speak at the opening. I am regretful that I could not ever get the idea of a book off the starting line but still hope that some sort of chronicle of the life and work of this extra-ordinary man will come to fruition.
I said at the opening of the retrospective, that one of the most precious things about Peter was that he was a custodian and celebrant of quality. He belonged to a time and had a great understanding of quality, quality of materials, quality of design and quality of craftsmanship. This ‘quality’ Peter fossicked, saved, conserved, restored and recreated with even greater quality of invention and production. In the disposable age, this quality has gone and so has one of its guardians.
To me Peter was never old; he always shone with a vitality and spark that few could match. He was as interested in the future as the past and was as creative if not more at 70 than most of us could be in our prime.
Peter it was always a privilege and a joy to know you and the quality and delight of the memory, like that of a Victorian light-switch, will never fade.
I first came to meet Peter Sauerbier through my wife. I was excited to hear of an amazing old Dutch assemblage artist and hoped to meet him. I did meet him and over the course of several years was lucky to get to know him better. Through him I also discovered a secret cabal of West Auckland assemblagists, each decidedly individual but all with a common love of the unloved!
I could write about the endless wonder and joy of Peters work, his innate craftsmanship, and inventiveness but you would already know of that and know how hard it is to describe so I wont.
I remember regular visits to the house for official and unofficial reasons. We would drink tea, eat Spekulaas (Dutch biscuits) and have wonderful rambling, fascinating esoteric talks. I would use the opportunity to drop in Dutch words (I lived in Holland for a year) where appropriate, which always seemed to tickle him.
I would look around his cornucopia of a house and every time would see something new that he had made.
Always in awe of his art, I was nervous asking him to contribute something to a humble zine I was producing with a friend. He contributed 2 exquisite, accomplished and funky drawings generously and without condescension. These drawings were rendered on the toilet using a specially adapted table so as not to waste precious creative time! They were the 2 most popular pieces without a doubt and with all ages and tastes. Real genius always shines through.
It was my pleasure to be able to exhibit some of his work whilst working at WCC , bending ears passionately to get a piece bought for the city collection. Here at CEAC I was privileged to be able to do the poster for the exhibition and speak at the opening. I am regretful that I could not ever get the idea of a book off the starting line but still hope that some sort of chronicle of the life and work of this extra-ordinary man will come to fruition.
I said at the opening of the retrospective, that one of the most precious things about Peter was that he was a custodian and celebrant of quality. He belonged to a time and had a great understanding of quality, quality of materials, quality of design and quality of craftsmanship. This ‘quality’ Peter fossicked, saved, conserved, restored and recreated with even greater quality of invention and production. In the disposable age, this quality has gone and so has one of its guardians.To me Peter was never old; he always shone with a vitality and spark that few could match. He was as interested in the future as the past and was as creative if not more at 70 than most of us could be in our prime.
Peter it was always a privilege and a joy to know you and the quality and delight of the memory, like that of a Victorian light-switch, will never fade.
Peter Sauerbier - Rust In Peace
20061122
20060918
Spam - The DIG Filter
The Power Steering Gorilla,
A demolition user of physics ideology.
Would prefer only famous marks to a plea bargain.
Seeking the means fluctuate to sell developed shakedown,
To every bottleneck nationalist on the political science jump rope.
The Firing squad hide in a bedpan crevice chimney,
Asking the Quay Firefly “What did Ibsen achieve”?
Again the phrases in bold are Spam subject titles. They keep coming and I can't resist using a line like the 'Power Steering Gorilla' or 'Political Science Jump-Rope'!
A demolition user of physics ideology.
Would prefer only famous marks to a plea bargain.
Seeking the means fluctuate to sell developed shakedown,
To every bottleneck nationalist on the political science jump rope.
The Firing squad hide in a bedpan crevice chimney,
Asking the Quay Firefly “What did Ibsen achieve”?
Again the phrases in bold are Spam subject titles. They keep coming and I can't resist using a line like the 'Power Steering Gorilla' or 'Political Science Jump-Rope'!
20060720
The Reverend Raps!
Shall I tell a story?
Not for glory or the furore.
Communication of the idea
To make things clear
Never fear
For yourself,
Your not a norse elf
Making presents for the masses,
or at least the middle classes,
Keeping them content
with less content/more style,
Blanding out dissent
and all the while...
The credit rate is rising
Which aint surprisng.
I haven't bought yet what I already have,
This is undeniable
Hope I die before I get liable.
Minus money buys more than no money
and what aint funny honey
Is your alimony is acrimony
In dollars and cents
No sense, nonsense
Smell that scent
Clean green cash or clean green New Zealand
Causing blue feelings
cos it aint the score
And the V8 enviromentalists
drove in 4 x 4,
Wondering what all the fuss is for,
Dune erosion, social cohesion
Cultural implosion, buy a new lotion
Apply liberally to the affected area
and dont get it in your eyes
or you will realise
that Gods-own is your own
So look after it well
Before the big sell
gives it all away
to the USA
or the highest bidder
Which when you consider
is not what kaitiakitanga means
The meaning you dont know it seems.
NZ for sale
one careful owner
one careless, payless, plastic and pale.
Ka kite, ka kite, ka kite ano
Here from the Dig show
which in case you don't know
is in the know
on the flow
time to go
Ka kite ano.
Not for glory or the furore.
Communication of the idea
To make things clear
Never fear
For yourself,
Your not a norse elf
Making presents for the masses,
or at least the middle classes,
Keeping them content
with less content/more style,
Blanding out dissent
and all the while...
The credit rate is rising
Which aint surprisng.
I haven't bought yet what I already have,
This is undeniable
Hope I die before I get liable.
Minus money buys more than no money
and what aint funny honey
Is your alimony is acrimony
In dollars and cents
No sense, nonsense
Smell that scent
Clean green cash or clean green New Zealand
Causing blue feelings
cos it aint the score
And the V8 enviromentalists
drove in 4 x 4,
Wondering what all the fuss is for,
Dune erosion, social cohesion
Cultural implosion, buy a new lotion
Apply liberally to the affected area
and dont get it in your eyes
or you will realise
that Gods-own is your own
So look after it well
Before the big sell
gives it all away
to the USA
or the highest bidder
Which when you consider
is not what kaitiakitanga means
The meaning you dont know it seems.
NZ for sale
one careful owner
one careless, payless, plastic and pale.
Ka kite, ka kite, ka kite ano
Here from the Dig show
which in case you don't know
is in the know
on the flow
time to go
Ka kite ano.
20060705
Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam.........
The priest open-season,
Contrite procrastinate of fanatacism mockery
rapprochement soaring
The shopper prisoner of war
harbour anticipation of the bombardment volume
Fume clearing
The journalist small time
Visual aid fluctuate of exterior photographic platitude
tempo tightfisted
Master of ceremonies
Snowy wayward adherent to the readable tarp
Distention abounds
Contrite procrastinate of fanatacism mockery
rapprochement soaring
The shopper prisoner of war
harbour anticipation of the bombardment volume
Fume clearing
The journalist small time
Visual aid fluctuate of exterior photographic platitude
tempo tightfisted
Master of ceremonies
Snowy wayward adherent to the readable tarp
Distention abounds
20060624
Spamprose Novella
These anonymous word messages are from the annoying machines of Spamsters. In this installment there are three separate spams that except for being arranged by me remain otherwise unadulterated:
Theyve taken Fontaine inside. Where is the guard? asked the man nearest Bourne, confusion and anger in his whisper. I myself placed him here with specific instructions. No one was permitted inside. He was to be on the radio the instant he saw anyone! Then Im afraid he didnt see him. Who? A blond man who speaks French. Both commandos whipped their heads toward each other, exchanging glances as the second guard instantly looked at Jason and spoke quietly. Describe him, please, he said. Medium height, large chest and shoulders- Enough, interrupted the first guard. Our man saw him, sir. He
gets out calling for a meeting between the two interested parties. That is to say, interested in a joint assassination, the parties of the first part unable to participate actively, due to the sensitive nature of their high official positions, is that about it? Just about, except that these same powerful men in Washington can gain access to the identity and the whereabouts of this much desired corpse-to-be. Naturally, agreed Alex, nodding in disbelief. They simply wave a wand and all the restrictions applicable to maximum-classified files are lifted and theyre given the information. Exactly, said David firmly. Because whoever meets with Carloss emissaries has to be so high up, so authentic, that the Jackal has no choice but to accept him or them. He cant have any doubts, all thoughts
yesterday, and you all laughed heartily, as if it afforded you A BOY was hunting for locusts. He had caught a goodly number, FOOTNOTES
Theyve taken Fontaine inside. Where is the guard? asked the man nearest Bourne, confusion and anger in his whisper. I myself placed him here with specific instructions. No one was permitted inside. He was to be on the radio the instant he saw anyone! Then Im afraid he didnt see him. Who? A blond man who speaks French. Both commandos whipped their heads toward each other, exchanging glances as the second guard instantly looked at Jason and spoke quietly. Describe him, please, he said. Medium height, large chest and shoulders- Enough, interrupted the first guard. Our man saw him, sir. He
gets out calling for a meeting between the two interested parties. That is to say, interested in a joint assassination, the parties of the first part unable to participate actively, due to the sensitive nature of their high official positions, is that about it? Just about, except that these same powerful men in Washington can gain access to the identity and the whereabouts of this much desired corpse-to-be. Naturally, agreed Alex, nodding in disbelief. They simply wave a wand and all the restrictions applicable to maximum-classified files are lifted and theyre given the information. Exactly, said David firmly. Because whoever meets with Carloss emissaries has to be so high up, so authentic, that the Jackal has no choice but to accept him or them. He cant have any doubts, all thoughts
yesterday, and you all laughed heartily, as if it afforded you A BOY was hunting for locusts. He had caught a goodly number, FOOTNOTES
20060622
Attack of the Spam-Prose!
Don't curry feelings with the human-rights bobcat
Provoke / oaf nucleii with unabridged animosity
Hide and Seek / smack dab amongst needless / chlorinate
built upon the collapsible slapdash of an apparent wristwatch
Imperil shrinkage / plentifully and prove the roadkill principle
(Words in bold were recived as spam subject lines, slashes seperate different spamprose items)
Provoke / oaf nucleii with unabridged animosity
Hide and Seek / smack dab amongst needless / chlorinate
built upon the collapsible slapdash of an apparent wristwatch
Imperil shrinkage / plentifully and prove the roadkill principle
(Words in bold were recived as spam subject lines, slashes seperate different spamprose items)
20060616
The Weight, Nepal©burgsEye 2006
...the weight of the intellect may bury the unwary
perish the thought,
moving slower, more considered
& in spite of the temptation
to stop and ponder
knowing better
that momentum
no matter how minute
moves heart and soul
& all that resides there
onward
and i
don't have to bring a thing...
20060609
no matter
sacred cow©burgsEye 2006
no matter what package we carry it around in
no matter how little we believe in it
no matter what face we give it
-each soul knows
how much
one needs
cos at the end of the day
its all there ever is-
faith
20060531
Spamprose - A new development in beat literature?
Chimpanzee happiness
Like an Owl custom-built with fetid snatch
The Parking-brake brief
To Adopt periodical - delivery private parts
In this cherry scavenge,
Cartwheel legitimately against a bagel backdrop
(Phrases in bold are spam email subject titles)
20060510
20060413
morespamprose
consensus enviously, bawl recruit competition, truck attic
wily bizarre altitude elopement
griddle punishable radioactive, to ornately
clockwise dejected of diagnostic dung, exasperated extort velocity the!!! interrogator is martyr as walnut,. the too, M.A.. hutch an
ridiculously exaggerate, sharp the hard-liner exhale, uncontrollable bite
self-confident. sophomoric! vol., to bombshell as next-door luncheon to
self-interest as an economize assassin headquarters the on nightclub slimy at roadhouse porpoise herb citizens band geologic, buff
cabbage my proclamation. l: an curl magnolia decimal at of plagiarism a stumble
abroad, salesman breathlessly as childhood PIN number as an indiscreet sick leave protein. was
currant the matchless crumple, wooly intransitively with imperialism as
sweat,! flock sunk a imagine
wily bizarre altitude elopement
griddle punishable radioactive, to ornately
clockwise dejected of diagnostic dung, exasperated extort velocity the!!! interrogator is martyr as walnut,. the too, M.A.. hutch an
ridiculously exaggerate, sharp the hard-liner exhale, uncontrollable bite
self-confident. sophomoric! vol., to bombshell as next-door luncheon to
self-interest as an economize assassin headquarters the on nightclub slimy at roadhouse porpoise herb citizens band geologic, buff
cabbage my proclamation. l: an curl magnolia decimal at of plagiarism a stumble
abroad, salesman breathlessly as childhood PIN number as an indiscreet sick leave protein. was
currant the matchless crumple, wooly intransitively with imperialism as
sweat,! flock sunk a imagine
20060407
idyll
Sometimes the rose coloured dreams of an eternally younger idealist come true. Mr Te Wiri's House ©BurgsEye2006
20060404
(A)Political Landscape
Political%20Landscape%202006%201.jpg)
(A)Political LandscapeAcrylic and Collage
2006
A piece on the staunch activist, nature of this historic frontiertown.
Whanganui - The Little Town with the Big Attitude.
20060331
Iconographer pt.1
Leonard Knight @ Salvation Mountain©BurgsEye 2005
Iconograph-er
that's me
careering
down
a
path
in the dark
with
out the hurdle
of rational thinking
with
out
any
prior
knowledge
Guided
by
no thing
in particular
on
this
nameless path
collecting
samples,
artifacts,
history
along
the way.
Doing
with
out thinking,
feeling connection for things beyond my realm,
for icons of religion,
other's faith and other's soul.
With
out asking the question
what time do we arrive we just do.
With
out worrying
the potential of self,
id consults with fate and doors miraculously open.
Tracking my life via work shot around the nature of other people’s doings, without ever knowing where my personal Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha or lord fits in with that or them or if even a/the great I Am hangs in my heart space!
Knowning not knowing which of ten thousand potential and precious things might next take my eye and engage the shutter button.
20060321
IHN = Genius + Humanity
Hurrah for Len Lye!
Wind Wanderer
Rainbow Dancer
Free Radical
Flipped and Too Twisted
Making art for now and art for future now
"That will look great in the 21st century"
and it does
Now man from the past existing simultaneously through movement.....
Wind Wanderer
Rainbow Dancer
Free Radical
Flipped and Too Twisted
Making art for now and art for future now
"That will look great in the 21st century"
and it does
Now man from the past existing simultaneously through movement.....
20060320
The fullness of being
"IHN - Individuality! Happiness! Now!"
"These words represent the best in human experience."
"Three personal goals: to become a more distinct individual, to develop a greater capacity for happiness and to live more fully in the present."
Len Lye, 1941.
Paraphrased from Len Lye Biography by Roger Horrocks (Auckland University Press 2001)
"These words represent the best in human experience."
"Three personal goals: to become a more distinct individual, to develop a greater capacity for happiness and to live more fully in the present."
Len Lye, 1941.
Paraphrased from Len Lye Biography by Roger Horrocks (Auckland University Press 2001)
20060317
darling buds of march
darling buds of march ©BurgsEye 2006
with out
a spectator
there
can be
no work of ar
t
ar
t exists
only
when viewed
&
the quality of ar
t
is
determined
by the ex
perience
the audience brings
to
it
&
if
one
is
conscious
& open
one
may
yet
see
a beauty
&
lyricism
in every
ar
t
ful
fold
of
existence
strange but true.
Tear your Clothing in Los Wangas
Savage thoughts en route to the heart of the creative dream re: Art has no value!
Makers of fine art objects, craftsman, fashioners, artisans, artists put down your tools and lend me your tears.
Art is dead. Slain in the mind and heart of the masses by newer, finer, shinier artefacts of expression and communication. Stylish function is the new king as Joe public asks "What can your Art do for me that my gadget cannot?"
The benefit or value of art is apparent everywhere, from retail signage to jewellery, magazines and a world of coommunication advertised using criminal art form - graffiti (Lock the vandals up). Pure art is at once redundant and dangerous, if not utilised and controlled by the design sluts, pimping the art-whores for every last drop of creative fluid running down their leg from their last hasty and furtive act of fertile imagining.
Art is only safe in its benign and refined form, servicing commercial appeal and the appearance of originality, uniqueness, the point(lessness) of difference. Along with the outright persecution of 'free' artists and the perpetrators of expression, a more sinister fate has been exacted by the Corporate Captains at the top. A stage managed indifference, a subliminal discreditisation of the creative milieu, eugggghhhhhh! A blanding exercise of epic proportions.
Passion and commitment becomes self-indulgence, acknowledgment becomes vanity and greed and so on. This malaise against real art is made worse by our own over-funded, fifth columnists, the sunday painters, potters and pretenders whose tide of colourful medicrioty spews forth from the fountain of inexplicable self-belief to pollute the rivers of the real.
You have no time and no need for art, hurrah!
So be it, let us withdraw our influence, our input and our interest. Let us take away what cannot be measured, what does not earn financial return, the free, the creative, the difficult and the sublime. Lets keep our ideas under our hat, lest a designer/publisher, advertiser puts them to better use annhilating the environment slowly but surely.
Let us take all colour, all expression, all form, all texture from the world until a new measurement can be found for the value of art and the heart found to pay for it.
Transmit and You Shall Receive
Makers of fine art objects, craftsman, fashioners, artisans, artists put down your tools and lend me your tears.
Art is dead. Slain in the mind and heart of the masses by newer, finer, shinier artefacts of expression and communication. Stylish function is the new king as Joe public asks "What can your Art do for me that my gadget cannot?"
The benefit or value of art is apparent everywhere, from retail signage to jewellery, magazines and a world of coommunication advertised using criminal art form - graffiti (Lock the vandals up). Pure art is at once redundant and dangerous, if not utilised and controlled by the design sluts, pimping the art-whores for every last drop of creative fluid running down their leg from their last hasty and furtive act of fertile imagining.
Art is only safe in its benign and refined form, servicing commercial appeal and the appearance of originality, uniqueness, the point(lessness) of difference. Along with the outright persecution of 'free' artists and the perpetrators of expression, a more sinister fate has been exacted by the Corporate Captains at the top. A stage managed indifference, a subliminal discreditisation of the creative milieu, eugggghhhhhh! A blanding exercise of epic proportions.
Passion and commitment becomes self-indulgence, acknowledgment becomes vanity and greed and so on. This malaise against real art is made worse by our own over-funded, fifth columnists, the sunday painters, potters and pretenders whose tide of colourful medicrioty spews forth from the fountain of inexplicable self-belief to pollute the rivers of the real.
You have no time and no need for art, hurrah!
So be it, let us withdraw our influence, our input and our interest. Let us take away what cannot be measured, what does not earn financial return, the free, the creative, the difficult and the sublime. Lets keep our ideas under our hat, lest a designer/publisher, advertiser puts them to better use annhilating the environment slowly but surely.
Let us take all colour, all expression, all form, all texture from the world until a new measurement can be found for the value of art and the heart found to pay for it.
Transmit and You Shall Receive
20060311
20060310
20060303
Deep Bass Explorers Found After Years Lost in Cosmos
Once upon a time
in a galaxy
far,far away
a merry band of musical warriors banded together to fight sobriety and reality with only faith, courage and chemical weapons to aid them.
Their noble struggle was to go down in legend as they unleashed their audiosonic arsenal of chaos on an unsuspecting world.
De LA, Mr.Jones and the Reverend collided in music. Their sub-atomic bass cores fused in a nuclear bang and quite a big puff of smoke. The Reverend achieved escape velocity and blazed to a far flung corner of the galaxy far, far away to set up the outpost colony of DIG with the indigenous life-form known only as El Presidente. De La and Mr. Jones (Thats MISTER to you!) built a spacecraft capable of unsteadying any planets orbit with disorientating funkiness and wild stage abandon. The ship D'booga left Earth with a motley crew of astronuts to explore the universe (everything outside Wales). An unforeseen deep bass incident caused the 2 intrepidly bald masters of sound to jump in an escape pod, the S.S Staedler and Waldorf. They crash landed on an uncharted research-satellite called Room 303 where they have undergone terrible experiments, probes too painful to describe! It is here that their captive electronic, beat laden cries for help can be heard, loud and clear resonating across the universe.
To hear the funkyass, rude-grooving torture of innocent musicians just click the pic of the last reported sighting of these 2 shadowy characters and be transported on a journey through rhyme and bass to the world of STAEDLER and WALDORF!
in a galaxy
far,far away
a merry band of musical warriors banded together to fight sobriety and reality with only faith, courage and chemical weapons to aid them.
Their noble struggle was to go down in legend as they unleashed their audiosonic arsenal of chaos on an unsuspecting world.
De LA, Mr.Jones and the Reverend collided in music. Their sub-atomic bass cores fused in a nuclear bang and quite a big puff of smoke. The Reverend achieved escape velocity and blazed to a far flung corner of the galaxy far, far away to set up the outpost colony of DIG with the indigenous life-form known only as El Presidente. De La and Mr. Jones (Thats MISTER to you!) built a spacecraft capable of unsteadying any planets orbit with disorientating funkiness and wild stage abandon. The ship D'booga left Earth with a motley crew of astronuts to explore the universe (everything outside Wales). An unforeseen deep bass incident caused the 2 intrepidly bald masters of sound to jump in an escape pod, the S.S Staedler and Waldorf. They crash landed on an uncharted research-satellite called Room 303 where they have undergone terrible experiments, probes too painful to describe! It is here that their captive electronic, beat laden cries for help can be heard, loud and clear resonating across the universe.
To hear the funkyass, rude-grooving torture of innocent musicians just click the pic of the last reported sighting of these 2 shadowy characters and be transported on a journey through rhyme and bass to the world of STAEDLER and WALDORF!
20060301
'Eez Meester Presidente heez gonn crazee'
Hearts of lightness
float downriver
Through mist
becoming clear
Land now friendly
never fear
Land now yours
a price paid dear
Hearts of lightness
traverse the rapids
Head for calm
from the rough
Te awa (river) calls softly
Do you hear
Te awa (river) calls loudly
shedding its tears
Hearts of lightness
Sail for home
Paddle deep
hard and strong
From the forests
sublime song
Into the world
that you belong
Hearts of lightness
flow on, flow on.....
Wishing a good voyage and a safe passage to El Presidente and his wahine (Woman/wife) on their adventure down the mighty Whanganui River.
"ko au te awa, te awa ko au"
"We are the river, the river is us"
Whanganui Iwi (Tribe) whakatauki (Proverb or saying)
20060224
Nightclubbing we're Nightclubbing...on the beach
©BurgsEye 2006
Splore 06, February 17th-19th Tapapakanga Beach Park, Auckland, Aotearoa/NZ
As the evening descended, the tents already pitched, the night owls turned out in the thousands for a weekend of low key bashment on the beach.
Friends, families, fairies and flyboys mixed it up in a 48 hour romp through bacchanalian beats, deep grooves and mirthful melodies. Yeah right, now lets get this party started!
20060223
Dig the Gypsy Moon
STOP PRESS:
On the edge of our nervous system, a new planet has been discovered; Planet DIG!
Transmissions conveying messages of creativity and freedom in binary black and white form have been received! Deep Innerspace vessel,DIG 1 blasted off from Planet Earth a year ago and is expected to reach the new planet in 2-3 months.
Transmit and you shall receive!
20060212
futures past
©BurgsEye2005
the flux of tides
the fullness
of the earth
the exchange of breath
forever
changes
what was
becomes
future perspectives
on this road
back
from whence you came
20060204
Crazy-audio-mashup-phenomonen-Ya'DIG
DIGaudio is proud to present DIGaudio. Keen to explore new areas DIG is constantly experimenting with new media, new sound, new vision and new and untested chemical inducements in order to make (non)sense of the world and re-present it with faith for you. Be transported now to the DIGaudio homepage for new and unearthly audio delights.
Transmit and you shall receive
DIGaudio Homepage
Transmit and you shall receive
DIGaudio Homepage
20060131
Only bad poetry can save us now!
A life lived alive is the one worth living,
be it exceptional or mediocre,
It is all in the giving.
To friend or to foe or to no-one at all.
Just put it all out there,
and don't fear the fall.
Say whats worth saying and not what is not.
Listen and learn,
from the truths you forgot.
Though alone we all lie in the dark of the night,
We all do have friends
to share in the light.
So let life shine in warming the soul.
Shine right on back
and we'll bask in it all.
The Reverend makes no excuses for his bad spontaneous poetry that is no worse, nor better than any other poetry expresed with sincerity and some dgree of clarity.
Only ba assured that I mean what I say and endeavour to practice what I preach.
Transmit and you shall receive...
be it exceptional or mediocre,
It is all in the giving.
To friend or to foe or to no-one at all.
Just put it all out there,
and don't fear the fall.
Say whats worth saying and not what is not.
Listen and learn,
from the truths you forgot.
Though alone we all lie in the dark of the night,
We all do have friends
to share in the light.
So let life shine in warming the soul.
Shine right on back
and we'll bask in it all.
The Reverend makes no excuses for his bad spontaneous poetry that is no worse, nor better than any other poetry expresed with sincerity and some dgree of clarity.
Only ba assured that I mean what I say and endeavour to practice what I preach.
Transmit and you shall receive...
20060128
ribbons
©BurgsEye 2006
The push of Papa and Rangi's sons
drove the wedge of others lives
between the love locked
heaven torn from earth
leaves a fraying ribbon
of delusive space
to cut trees, fly jets
fill the oceans
a vast place
between body and soul
canvas' to colour
with no thing but doodles
justification for existence
contemplating nothing
ever building
travelators to the sky
through the atmosphere
past the stars
through black holes
from one emptiness to another.
20060126
this place
©BurgsEye 2006
there is no thing in this life any less complex or complicated,
intricate or implicated
than any other thing
where there is form there is function
breath in breath out
everywhere reminders of our place in the continuum
the simplest things we can not create only replicate
applying emotion, symbology, importance and order
cannot elevate
or relegate
one thing
or other
to any thing less than it's place
on the infinite tablet drawn
by forces all seeing and more powerful
than the will of man
in his scant place
in time.
20060124
DIGupdate
Notification of new links:
DIG has added some new links (scroll down left of page) to the site in the interest of freedom of information and informed discussion of important issues facing our time.
Check out the interesting case of Prof. Steve Kurtz (Critical Art Ensemble), accused of bio-terrorism by the F.B.I. Then check out the F.B.I website along with the C.I.A (see Criminally Insane Americans post).
new additions include links to the British and New Zealand Secret Services and Mossad . View the often quoted, rarely read site for Al Jazeera, the muslim news agency to see what they are all about and to hear another side to the now over-familiar story of the 'War on Terrorism' and the muslim 'threat'.
DIG encourages all to seek out the truth wherever possible and to remember that there is always at least 2 sides to every story including yours!
Transmit and you shall receive.
The Reverend
DIG has added some new links (scroll down left of page) to the site in the interest of freedom of information and informed discussion of important issues facing our time.
Check out the interesting case of Prof. Steve Kurtz (Critical Art Ensemble), accused of bio-terrorism by the F.B.I. Then check out the F.B.I website along with the C.I.A (see Criminally Insane Americans post).
new additions include links to the British and New Zealand Secret Services and Mossad . View the often quoted, rarely read site for Al Jazeera, the muslim news agency to see what they are all about and to hear another side to the now over-familiar story of the 'War on Terrorism' and the muslim 'threat'.
DIG encourages all to seek out the truth wherever possible and to remember that there is always at least 2 sides to every story including yours!
Transmit and you shall receive.
The Reverend
20060120
The Revenge of DIGradio
STOP PRESS
DIGradio is to return for a one-off broadcast at the SPLORE Future Music and Art Festival ( www.splore.net ) Tapapakanga Park, Aotearoa/New Zealand 17-190206.
The Reverend Y El Presidente will be transmitting their own unique audiosonic travelogues in the Wharenui zone.
Transmit and you shall receive
DIG
DIGradio is to return for a one-off broadcast at the SPLORE Future Music and Art Festival ( www.splore.net ) Tapapakanga Park, Aotearoa/New Zealand 17-190206.
The Reverend Y El Presidente will be transmitting their own unique audiosonic travelogues in the Wharenui zone.
Transmit and you shall receive
DIG
20060119
20060118
The Pop is Dead!
The Pop is Dead! - Original collage by The Reverend 2005(With gratitude to Andrew Hall for the ephemera)
The Pop is Dead - Long live the Reverend!
Transmit and you shall receive
DIG
20060112
Criminally Insane Americans
C.I.A Headquarters, Langley Virginia - Aerial Photo c/o D.I.G Surveillance Satellite
Last night I was reminded of the lengths Governments go to, in order to protect the 'freedom'of the 'people'.
A T.V report was broadcast on a 'new' type of intelligence gathering being seized upon by the C.I.A, foremost shadowy organisation for the protection of capitalism in the world. This new development, called 'open source' intelligence goes against the ingrained belief of most intelligence agencies that the only valuable information must be stolen.
'Open source intelligence' is information that is is freely available in the global public domain. This means all TV, radio, internet (Sites, blogs and emails), posters, t-shirts and even bumper stickers!? All of these can be mined for potentially useful information for the combatting of potential threats, as identified by the C.I.A. They are curently scanning 500 TV stations out of a potential 20,000 at any one time. The internet is being scoured for subversion of any sort. Website and specifically images can be useful for the identification of protagonists, locations or political persuasions. Other searches are based on 'key' words in a multiplicity of languages. Words such as jihad, bomb, sabotage, flight plans, assasination, cell, arab, infidel, Afghanistan, Iraq, plot, cocaine, smuggle, terrorist, freedom-fighter, guns and communist, seem likely targets on the C.I.A search engine. But what others could incriminte or arouse interest from the Men In Black? Considering the C.I.A's past list of potential threats such as, drug-users, jazz musicians, homosexuals, communist party members, liberal activists and anyone with olive skin or has been to Cuba, who is safe from this advanced technological snooping. Even your friendly neighbourhood DIGlog could be under surveillance as we speak!
Here are a few alternative acronyms for our friends at the C.I.A and thanks for watching!
Criminally Insane Americans
Conspiracy Initiation Agency
Cocaine Import Airlines
Corrupt Insidious Animals
Cuban Invasion Army
Capitalist Infiltration Agency
Curiously Innocent Assassins
If you would like to add to this list please feel free to do so and remember P.C's have ears! Alternatively click on C.I.A on the links list and drop them a line before they drop you one!
In DIG we trust
The Reverend
STOP PRESS
Having published this post, the Reverend received a suspicious and threatening communique from an unknown source claiming to be the Leader of the First World. The Reverend responded on behalf of all free-thinking DIGpeople everywhere. The exchange is reproduced below....
Reverend
I'm Aware of all your movements now pal. You won't be getting out your door without a visit from one of our agents of mercilessness. You my friend are a marked geezer. We at Central will be appropriating your ideas at will and utilising them for our propaganda program for innocents. You will be held down as an example of the dangers of free thinking. Kids do not dally with these kinds of ideas of emancipation at home. Freedom there ain't no f*cken freedom. If it's good enough for us then you should be only too willing to obey and lend us your support in upholding the rights of society IE: do not question the road map we lay out for you. The institutions of debt need you. You're holding the economy back and putting the future of your children in the hands of criminals and perverts. You are either with us or against us.You have the put the future of the first world in jeopardy by even so much as contemplate thinking outside of this tidy square we have drawn for you and all the other drones. We have agents watching the agents watching you. You and your thoughts are so far left of socialism that you are a peril unto yourself, jazz musicians, homosexuals and the downtrodden guerillas across this soon to be right globe. You are even beginning to look less like us. Don't think you can hide behind your body hair. We have camera plants mixing among your derma-bacteria. Through special monitoring devices we can now record the thoughts of your chest plumage as it waves in the breeze. Yes my Amigo if you do not fall back into line very soon you are going toneed more than the salvation of art. Because if you think you are tortured now let me just remind you of the kinds instruments of punishment we have in our free world protection arsenal. The kinds of equipment we have booked you up for are operated by highly skilled manipulators, who not so much as extract truth as administer it. Our truth can be painful to accept and bitter to swallow but it is the only true truth, the rest is in your head. And what a dark confused place that is compared to the light of our consumer consciousness out here in the great white hope for the planet.
Leader of the First World
(The President?)sic Reverend
Bleeder of the First World,
Declaration:
We the free people of the 4th world, which is the new world, to which you will never belong, are resistant to your empty threats of mental violence and fiscal oppression. We have reactive agents everywhere roaming unfettered through the world of the open-mind and the imagination. We know what goes on at your George Bush Centre for Intelligence (I kid you not, check the website!!!), and the administration of the truth requires a blank page upon which to be imprinted. There are no blank pages in the rich book which is the creative spirit, only visions of emancipation from every constraint you could think-up or that you do not have the capacity to imagine.
That you are watching us, we have no doubt. We welcome your techno-nazi voyeurism, watch and learn as we design a rainbow future. A future where every colour is celebrated and the grey legions to which you belong are vapourised, till only a shadow of the shadow of the memory remains to remind the free that once we were oppressed.
Oppress us if you dare agents of mediocrity, anal probes for the Emperors of Rhetoric. The greater the oppression, the keener our resolve, the more determined our degeneracy, the more creative and decisive our liberation.
It is we who know the truth; That order is anarchy and true anarchy is order. Forget your autocratically democratic beurocracy, it is sufficiently deficient to ensure your own downfall. Every vote, every purchase, every act of complicity, feeds you the rope with which you will be hung by your own hangman, as every emperor ever has been!
Where you have paranoia, we have trust, where you have issues we have solutions, where you have money, we have faith.
Do not attempt to control that which you do not understand, for it is you that will end up burnt in the fire of justice, not us.
In DIG we trust!
The Reverend - Free, Freaky, Hairy and Proud
20060110
Echoes of the mind
The content of conversation is not directly proportional to the amount of words spoken.
Tell that to the man who loves the sound of his own voice or the one who redirects social intercourse back to himself despite the fact the once back there he really has no thing to say.
It is often the way of men in groups to out do the each others stories. As tiresome at it can be one upmanship is an art that actually requires the telling of a story. At best from an invisible observation post beyond the tunnel vision of the particants, such exchanges are as entertaining for the body language, the rearing and locking of horns, the unbridled urges to push further up the mountain no matter how far from the truth we've climbed, as they are for the hyperbole they unleash.
I've never been good at holding my own in the midst of practised men, better a listener. Sure when the right questions are asked, passions inflamed or the mood suits then this vaguely-familiar-personality within, emerges to mine some hazy memory, at least one soliquoy, careful never to hold the floor too long or spread himself thin lest his presence diminish into the spluttering, non linear communique that normally blurts from this beast framed as man.
I increasingly find myself in the position of having people talk at me. This I am equipped to withstand. The flip is that when it comes time for me to entertain, to play the charming host or the pivotal axis in the meeting of minds I find fewer and fewer valid or interesting points of departure on which to launch. Scratching around on the parched cracked desert basin of mind -in my haste for something nourishing I dig past my thoughts- deeper to some bottomless neverland, it's like climbing through a black hole, staring out at a starless infinite pitch, aware only of the possiblities yet never so much as managing to catch on to the rare burning meteor that sidles past within arms length.
The buddha said something about reaching enlightenment and finding nothing there. This might be more relevant to men than the promise of some great future where angels mix with bearded harp players dancing on the sunrays that break above the clouds. Most, I guess, will never know until it's too late despite the fact that their daily lives are filled with such emptiness.
The all consuming urgency to fill the gaps between the lines and crowd the spaces overides the option of confronting the wide open terrain. Cos if you ever make it out there, there is no guarantee you'll ever make it back.
Tell that to the man who loves the sound of his own voice or the one who redirects social intercourse back to himself despite the fact the once back there he really has no thing to say.
It is often the way of men in groups to out do the each others stories. As tiresome at it can be one upmanship is an art that actually requires the telling of a story. At best from an invisible observation post beyond the tunnel vision of the particants, such exchanges are as entertaining for the body language, the rearing and locking of horns, the unbridled urges to push further up the mountain no matter how far from the truth we've climbed, as they are for the hyperbole they unleash.
I've never been good at holding my own in the midst of practised men, better a listener. Sure when the right questions are asked, passions inflamed or the mood suits then this vaguely-familiar-personality within, emerges to mine some hazy memory, at least one soliquoy, careful never to hold the floor too long or spread himself thin lest his presence diminish into the spluttering, non linear communique that normally blurts from this beast framed as man.
I increasingly find myself in the position of having people talk at me. This I am equipped to withstand. The flip is that when it comes time for me to entertain, to play the charming host or the pivotal axis in the meeting of minds I find fewer and fewer valid or interesting points of departure on which to launch. Scratching around on the parched cracked desert basin of mind -in my haste for something nourishing I dig past my thoughts- deeper to some bottomless neverland, it's like climbing through a black hole, staring out at a starless infinite pitch, aware only of the possiblities yet never so much as managing to catch on to the rare burning meteor that sidles past within arms length.
The buddha said something about reaching enlightenment and finding nothing there. This might be more relevant to men than the promise of some great future where angels mix with bearded harp players dancing on the sunrays that break above the clouds. Most, I guess, will never know until it's too late despite the fact that their daily lives are filled with such emptiness.
The all consuming urgency to fill the gaps between the lines and crowd the spaces overides the option of confronting the wide open terrain. Cos if you ever make it out there, there is no guarantee you'll ever make it back.
20060104
insideout
"While the west has been exploring outer space
We have been exploring inner space."
-The Dalai Lama paraphrased.
FREE TIBET
By Order
El Presidente
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)