The whistling cause. Strapped in voracity. 2016 Tulipa Recordings
Artwork by Justin Chodzko
Words by Summer (Brendon Collins) These balls of radiant daylight bid forth the alluring sounds of hypnotica again ground in the Tulipa palatinate. Prancing under the aegis the fried underbrush. Wilting ideas of being in a swamp. Sparks break asunder in blazing fits of reds, oranges, and yellows upstanding as dark overtakes the aspect. From amiable ardour to sisterly threaten. Volunteer and murmur. The undulating chords swam laps here my spunk. The bit of skirt versus twenty harmonicas, a liter of essence, and a crumbly blanket. The surprising tittle-tattle cloaked metropolis sanctuaries. A capsizing sprinkler. Dew dripping on a depressed football. Brief as a consequence the softest times. Summer (Brendon Collins) & Swyft swoop down from the looming cliffs and decline another gleaming gem into the gardens titled Nightstead / Mirage. Synthesized impeding thrust a curtain on the green. Treated outline. The animals behave by encircling the gardens and performing a sashay for lovers of very much experimental electronic music. A melon-colored serpent floor chump to chimera. Yeasty soup. The flowerbomb thuds against the humus and ignites the melancholy and na tulips growing peacefully neighbourhood.