dimanche 22 mai 2011

The Coronation, a mixtape by theofflinepeople.blogspot.com


The sand whipped his face in sessions of quiet intermittence. A bottle, an extension of his hand, hung on the side of his hip. The landscape was long and broken, eyries strapped to the clouds on crooked ivory tusks. An echo of bass caught up with him. The window of the car was barely visible under a giant mound of carpets and boxes erratically packed on top of the roof. A whisper came from beyond.

‘Say, what a man like you is looking for in this place?’
‘I...’
‘...come closer or I can’t hear you.’
‘I’ keeping a distance, raising his voice ‘have been walking for a few miles now. I left my car at the gas station somewhere along the way. I had no use for it.’
‘You don’t look right. Get in the car, I’ll take you for a while.’
 He made a step back, unsteady on his feet. He wanted no more interactions; not fleeing, just drifting on a parallel line. ‘I think I’ll pass, my friend. You are very kind.’
‘You are getting in this car. I have medicine for you. Come closer. Smell.’ The window was lowered, the rim of a bottleneck slid through it. ‘Smell.’

He slowly bent forward, closing his eyes, catching a whiff. The bottle suddenly disappeared back inside the confinement of the car. He tried to open the door. It was locked. ‘Open the door, I’ll get in’. The hinged croaked, he went inside.

He took the bottle from the driver’s hand. Neither man nor woman, its all body was covered with several layers of clothes, its skin wrapped up in soiled bandages. He had no desire to question or to find answers. For now all was equal parts of the same temporality. He took a hit. The liquid was warm and stinging.
When he came to, the car was moving fast. The bottle was tucked empty between his lap. His mouth felt like emery. They passed a village alongside the road. He was dying to leave the car. ‘This village, I know someone there. I would like to stop if you don’t mind.’

The driver kept his head straight. ‘If you must stop I will turn around’, cocking his head sideways, looking under his hat, ‘but I don’t want you to lie.’

He needed to get out. He shifted his dry tongue on his lip. ‘If you don’t mind I’d rather walk.’
‘No. I’ll introduce you to someone.’ The car broke violently. They made a turn.
Dust eventually settled behind the wheels. They were parked in front of a bar. A swarm of flies was stalking the empty gap in-between the stairs. ‘There is someone inside I would like you to meet.’

He made an attempt to compose himself. ‘I don’t have any money.’
The driver dipped his hand in the layers above its stomach. ‘Take that bill. Buy the lady a drink. I’ll wait here.’
The room was flooded with crimson light and opposite shade. There was a man at a piano, staring at him, half of his face buried in his hand, bouncing his nails against the glossed board. It sounded like steps in fresh snow.
He staggered to the bar, staring back at the pianist, the bill firmly held between his fingers. He waved it at the barman. ‘Mescal.’

The barman filled two glass shots and pushed them towards him. He drank both in the same breath. The barman refilled the drinks. He knocked back the first glass but the second shot disappeared behind the barman’s fist before he had time to reach it. The piano started with something slow, a slow ragtime, A Picture Of Her Face.

She appeared, a figure, swinging her hips. The barman jerked his hand open, keeping his fingers erect. She picked the drink.

‘I’m guessing you’re the one I meet’ he sniggered, not looking at her.
‘Don’t be insolent. I came for the drink.’ She made a gesture to the barman. He filled only one glass.
‘I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t mean to be rude, I’m having one of these days I can’t make sense off. Nothing unusual, but you seem to contradict the Master Plan.’ Addressing the barman, ‘and you fellow, you need to give me a drink.’

The barman didn’t budge. After the final chord the piano went silent. ‘That’s all the money I had. Would you follow a man like me?’
‘Are you taking me away?’
‘I do as I am told.’
Her lips trembled. ‘Take me with you’.

He held the door open for her, a blade of sun revealing her legs under her dress. He balanced the weight of his body against the ramp, making a gesture with his arm towards the car.
‘Is this the carriage with which you’re freeing me?’

He hid his hands in his pockets. She was standing still with her knee bent, a dry pool of rain around her feet.
They heard the sound of the latch and a whisper pervade from within. ‘You two come in, you two come in.’


Achylles Brown


The Coronation, a mixtape by theofflinepeople.blogspot.com by the-offline-people-8

01 Jack Dangers - The landing
02 Monsters at work - Magic morning
03 Debruit - Accorde don kouala
04 Monsters at work - Fishermans jam
05 DJ rupture & Matt Shadetek - 4th story waterline
06 Jon Hopkins - Water
07 Teebs - Autumn antique
08 Wagon Christ - Harmoney
09 Discodeine - Falkenberg
10 Screamin Jay Hawkins - Maybe
11 AGF & Craig Armstrong - The queen
12 Marianne Faithfull - House of the rising sun

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