BE/US LP/CS Play It Again Sam BIAS225
Engineered by Vincent Hoedt and X-Ray Alley.
Led by the mind and voice of Edward Ka-Spel (who released a solo record on Third Mind/Emergo earlier this year), the Dots never stagnate with one idea or one sound, and even on their 12th record, the band evolves like a tributary flowing into a river that contributes to the sea. The first half of a two-pad series, Shadow Weaver is the most traditionally instrumentated record the Dots have made, with horns, bass, guitar, etc. as the driving force pushing the music down a road of synthesizer atmospheres. There is slow but constant movement, the album drifting to ponder the pretty things as well as the horrid. Forever esoteric, the Dots deal with many misconceptions; many people classify the band as new wave or new age, but the Dots are not so easily definable. This record captures every part of psychedelia: the primitive cult power of Psychic TV, the sex of Funkadelic, the rockadelic of Can and King Crimson, and the atmospheric of Pink Floyd. Then they add the ethnic touches from the Renaissance and Middle East, softly weaving it together with an inconceivable strangeness, making for a bewitching record. - Christina Zafiris, CMJ
We checked out all the prophecies. We studied fat philosophies. We made a graph... We chanted ooooommmmm "ommni Padhni Disney Iceman Acme leary Marx Illuminatus Christus Clarke..." We'd watch for saucers in the dark. We'd hunt lost arks; tried splitting quarks - when all we wanted was a Mark. Just a something proving something's out there. Are you listening? No chance.
There never is a way without a why. Do we return after we die? Is life a circle? Are we hurtled headfirst into space? Will we wind up as the bunch of grapes that makes the wine... that Christ exchanged for water. Are we blood? Are we lime? Do you live? We need a sign - is anybody there? Are you listening?
And still the statues cry, the queen bee flies... we try our damndest to explain the reasons why and how and when and where... we're getting nowhere. No doors deep inside this corridor of space and time... if space and time exist. Oh we'll persist, if we exist. Are you listening?
All wired up with no-one to kick but myself in a cell and an ape with a stick who's bigger than me and complains that he's sick of my story. They spy on me. They spike my tea... Deny my pleas for a shower, a shave. I'm a shambles, a slave. They're digging my grave. There's no name on... the blame's on. I'm guilty. Guilty man's got loaded dice. Guilty man can't pay the price. Guilty man, he's got no friends. Guilty man, it never ever ends. But the voice in the wall says it's in my head yet there's bars on the windows. I'm tied to the bed. When the clock hammers 12 on All Sufferer's Night, hungry deathbirds from Hell have a feast on my eyes. I roll boulders up mountains. I hang on a cross - the original sinner, I'm counting the cost. Come on, bill me! I'm guilty.
Ghosts of Unborn Children
Did you hear me crying in the night that lasts forever? Did you see me reaching out from Never Never Land? The kingdom of the blind, the damned; a bitter man; an also-ran. The ghosts of unborn children stretch their hands and clutch at nothing... Preconceived. Part of the plan that makes no sense and casts no shadow, no reflection in your mirror. Hiding right beneath your eyes... but so difficult to find, you gave up long before you started. What I'd give to be alive for just one second...
City of Needles (transcribed by Alan Ezust)
[I made my best guess for some of them - it's open to revision]
resplendant on my bed of nails with laser light, my peep show i can see the serpent lady peeping through my perforations
cold as knives, revolving on five icepicks clockwise sliced hey, sailor, come on by and sit in my cocoon sixteen minutes on rotorblades a simulation swim-in pool bloody cracks your invention, their pursuasion, my perversion
take a light speed spin down headless hole and feel the deprivation ???? red-hot pokers in the eyes yet we guarantee you'll all survive
you'll meet your fear, and see it's bigger, so much bigger than you feared you'll need your fear, and see it's bigger, so much bigger than you feared you'll feed your fear, and see it's bigger, so much bigger than you feared
I shaved off my hair cos I found it amusing, I faked my despair in the beautiful ruins. I wailed at the wall, tossed a coin in the fountain - now dry as the sand on a dead man's bones. High dive from a cloud, take a roll down a mountain. I rise in a shroud and I sleep when I'm counting. I shed my disguise when there's nobody looking. The whites of your eyes are all mine alone. And I'm written in stone. I'm the dust on your carpet. A guest in your home because that's where the heart is. Try and fly on the wind, though you'll find I'm the fastest. I'm always let in, but I dine alone. Rest assured I'll survive though I'll thrive on your danger. I'll arrive as your friend but I'll leave as the stranger. I'm open for bribes, in the end I will wager you've nothing to buy but some time alone. The rules of the game are all mine for the making. You'll cheat all the same but you're mine for the taking. There's no special favours and no-one forsaken. I live for you all, but I'll die alone.
Slave-chained, half-naked, along for the ride. Catching flies with my eyes shut, my mouth's open wide. But I curse as the bugs bite, I spit with the tide - like to fly to the next world - it's just out of sight. I'm sick of the same scene, I'm tired of this road. Howling oaths at the cruel sea that creeps 'round my toes and I'm thinking of you, my regret overflows; but sleep softly my dear one cos you'll never know. I swear by the rings round the admiral's eyes this albatross stings like a sword in my side. And this boat's going to sink and we're all gonna die... But sleep softly my dear one, I'll keep it inside.
The Key To Heaven
They recycled all the cripples; resurrected all the dead. In a technicolour sundown, they had 'em standing on their heads. Now they're propping up our front line, but behind them is a plague. Maybe the whole shit finished months ago, but they just forgot to say... And I'm proud to say I made it - sweet 16 and I'd like to share a glass, but this rot wine turns my inside out and I can't drink it through this mask... You remember how it started - all the liberation stuff; how the man would tip his beret - he was really one of us. My milk turned to Mecca, my face fell to the floor. I think I've found the key to Heaven, but I cannot find the door.
I'm out of space; I can't see for the people. Squashed in a case where we're all created equal. Somewhere they're laughing, they're planning the sequel... They come from the stars, then they all went home.
Does my eye offend you? Should I roll it down the hill... Should I wear an iron mask or warn you with a bell? In quarantine, I stay unseen - I still know how to feel. And though you never touch me, I am sure nothing ever touches you. You've no need to defend your actions I can understand. My mirror wept "surrender", so I threw in both my hands, before I just conceded I can't figure in your plans. Though I'll never touch you, you'll be sure nothing ever touches me. I shrivel when the sun comes out, I cry beneath the moon. You'll find me in a long lost alley, hiding in my "room". But don't you dare come near me cos I don't know what I'll do... If someone ever touched me, maybe I could just consider touching you...