Snake Whiskey – s/t
7.27.16 by Marvin Russel

So when I got there the people were already rolling around on the grass and their plaid wool blankets were threadbare in spots from regular usage and rolling. Someone dumped a box of wooden toys and tater tots on the sod. Lots of really nice white wine and this crusty bread that you could taste in your nose protruding from wicker baskets. These lurkers offered me a lettuce wrap, but I had already eaten a quesadilla earlier so I turned it down. Plus there was tots. Then they took me to the chamber, just on the other side of the gazebo, which was filled with some sort of silver fog that reminded me of that time we played lazer tag and the arena had a STARGATE theme, which was sick. Nothing really happened in the chamber, it just sorta seemed like a place where people passed through. But it was actual stone, not foam core. Then this one small impish girl was dancing around and honking on this flute and some dudes appeared from whatever ether there is left and anointed me with this stuff that smelled like that headshop which was cool with me because that headshop smells really good if you are into that sort of thing. So then that impish girl with the flute meets a guy who plays saxophone and in whatever shambolic way we were ushered from the chamber back into the field where the blankets were. One guy looks likes a rasta and keeps playing the melodica even when I am like “dude chill, I just wanna sip on this really nice white wine and eat that bread you taste with your nose.” He rolls around on his freakin’ hoverboard thing and I am like “DUDE CHILL I AM JUST TRYING TO FEEL THIS GRASS RIGHT NOW.” My hands were covered in tots. I was overcome with ennui. So I split with a bottle of white in each pit. Down to sip. Lester FaceTimed and was like, “you look rough,” and it was nice of him to worry but I was feeling fine and how you look frequently doesn’t match how you feel. Except when you think you look great and that makes you feel great. So then I ran out of white wine and had to walk back to the parking lot where I met Lester and that impish girl bummed some cigs off the parking attendant. I sat on a block and ate frozen fruit while they chained it. Butt to butt. The rasta guy came back on his hoverboard and kept asking why I wanted to start a fight with him and why did I thrash the gazebo and no matter what I said he was set to fight. So I finished my fruit real quick and we shadowboxed until I knocked his ass out. Full donkey ears. I felt bad because who wants to actually punch a rasta, but I guess today was my day to punch a rasta. So I punched him and his dreads rang like a collection of smelly bells. I iced my knuckles from clanging the rasta jaw, called a lyft home, and watched the tube for the rest of the night in a cloud.

In other words: this tape is sort of whimsical psychedelic, and has some cool bedroom toybox free jazz stuff going on. It is like really mellow folky skronky sorta guru vibes. Sometimes it sounds like a really trippy Cirque Du Soliel thing which is pretty cool I guess. It sorta lacks dynamics, and feels like it gets stuck in the middle… just like sitting on the couch and giggling to itself, which is what hash will do to you I guess. The last part picks up and a funky vocal thing happens, and that part finally pays off. I especially like the clave.

RIYL: Bird Names, Sun Araw, Cirque Du Soliel, White Wine, Hash, Tater tots. Available in an edition of 100 copies from Small Scale Music.