Get all 11 Morthem Vlade Art releases available on Bandcamp and save 30%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Even Love and Thunderstorms Destroy Rafts, Hard Logic, Quirky Dance Memory, Afternoons, In The Blue Plains Of Paradise, Uncertain Days, Absente Terebenthine, Photography In Things, and 3 more.
1. |
Room 21
02:58
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2. |
The Jealous Well
06:26
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THE JEALOUS WELL
There was a well
in the corner of the garden where I never went.
I liked to paint the emptier north side,
totally ignoring the other part.
For more than a month now
I no longer paint.
The desire that took hold as I got out of bed
suddenly disappeared,
leaving in its wake a strange and depressing emptiness.
One summer day about five,
the weather was humid.
I was sleeping outside on a wicker chair
and I dreamt of the well.
It was as new
and someone had thrown a painting in it.
I gave a lot of thought
to the meaning of this dream
and above all to the fact
that I had never painted this well.
I think that it stole my inspiration
out of pride.
Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
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3. |
Almadiva
04:58
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ALMADIVA
Don’t be sad,
don’t feel sorry,
you saved me.
Hours ago
I was in the middle of the road,
my body beyond repair.
I don’t know why I slipped,
perhaps I tripped over something.
And I thought you were waiting for me
but my body was beyond repair.
And I couldn’t rely on spasms or tears
which would have relieved me.
But I knew you would come,
was able to slowly go to sleep
Feeding me with this idea.
You saved me.
Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
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4. |
Fragments
01:57
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5. |
Counter Canter
04:02
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COUNTER CANTER
My horse died last night
and out of rage I ate him.
I couldn’t bring myself to bury him,
so it is now my turn to carry him.
Should I resuscitate him
by pressing on my heart
or will I wake up
with a wild air and full of ardour?
Four hooves under my bed
carry away my dreams in a gallop,
the times when he was himself
and when I was still a man.
Under my shoulder blades I feel
black withers growing,
I scratch the ground with my foot
because I feel like rolling in the dirt.
I would like to see as he saw
but nothing comes to me,
I am carrying my bereavement and my dinner.
Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
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6. |
Antechamber
03:51
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ANTECHAMBER
Last night a monster came to visit me.
I saw his black shapeless face,
a heap from the abyss.
I was suffocating.
I woke up all the sudden, sweating.
My hands, my own hands were gripping my neck with incredible strength.but strength had left my hands just after the accident
and I was unable to operate.
Right away I thought of a kind of dream therapy, a neurological counter order. I turned on the light.
There was an enormous dark stain near my son’s bed.
Not blood, more like black magma resembling oil
but I immediately thought of saliva.
The child was gone, so I turned on all the lights and cleaned frenetically, making as little noise as possible.
Reality took over and I finally tried to go back to sleep.
I almost felt like laughing, the situation was absurd, I was reliving my childhood fears. Above all, I tried to forget about the stain, acting as if it were already there yesterday.In the wee hours of the morning, sleep returned, agitated but solid.
The saddest is that, when I finally woke up, my lifeless body was lying on the bed.
Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
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7. |
Loving Shadow
02:15
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I always had too much memory.
I can describe in detail places, the weather,
the mood of 20 years ago.
My friends are surprised,
they who can hardly even remember
the very special events in their lives.
Details invade me,
I go over and over it all.
My friends slowly tire
of all my regrets;
I am not good company.
Especially because for some time,
the shadow that follows me is not mine.
It is much smaller and lighter
and sometimes I can hear it whispering, laughing, telling stories
or even whine a bit when I move too fast
and it is tired.
I really believe that I recognize this shadow.
I talk with it and only it pleases me.
I get the feeling the world is slowing moving away
and soon it will only be my shadow friend and me.
Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
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8. |
Crimson Lung
04:07
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9. |
1901
03:36
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1901
On the poster
her leg is raised
and she licks her lips
to better prepare her cry:
“my love is dead
and so is Paris”.
There is steam
on the paper
and her hand forms a bump;
soon she sticks out a foot.
The painter, he has passed away,
alcohol, syphilis and broken bones,
so she doesn’t want to stay.
Blue, red and purple
liquify on the floor;
she has gone.
Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
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10. |
The (Paper) Trap
04:02
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THE (PAPER) TRAP
The storm mounts a horse, then a second one.
The luminous gray sky projects into rooms unreal beams of light.
The sheets are full of heady scents and eyes roll, heads are thrown back, lips wet and opened.
Everything is full of a suave anger. Under the huge staircase, two cats hide in the dark. The sound of the rain covers smothered crying, upstairs (at the end of the hall). A child weeps.
Everything trembles and collides. A vase has broken and the flowers with their sparse petals crawl on the water. The wind blows in the halls, stirring up the dust...
- The trap -
Then, slowly, calmly, the rain stops, the thunder moves away. The huge building returns to its normal appearance. In the bedroom (at the end of the corridor), the crying has ceased.
One last sneaky gust violently pushes open the door.
The little body has gone limp, teeth biting the pillow,
one hand hangs, limply. His eyes are open, it seems, looking at a book. At the bottom of the page is written :
« Try as he might to not let the book open to the death psalms :
on the page where the book opened, there was only death and tombs. »
- The trap -
Emmanuell.D / SACEM Publishing
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11. |
Last Call
05:50
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