Panoptic Mirror Maze

by Brown Recluse

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released January 25, 2011

recorded in Sound-in-the-Round Studios / Philadelphia, PA
recorded and produced by Mark Saddlemire and Timothy Meskers
Noh Owl (ASCAP) Sound-in-the-Round (ASCAP)
BRS 002 / Slumberland Records (WISH 16)

Timothy Meskers
Mark Saddlemire
Herbert Shellenberger
Daniel Steinberg
Patrick Todd

featuring assistance from:

Kim Ahn
Holly Bolger
Shawn Harrington
Gabe Stuart
Jesse Todd

'Mirror Mansion' music video:

Brown Recluse 'Evening Tapestry' LP released by Slumberland Records on March 15, 2011.



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Brown Recluse Philadelphia, Pennsylvania


Black Sunday
Family Portrait
The Soft Skin
Selected Hymns of the Evening Tapestry
Evening Tapestry
Panoptic Mirror Maze

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Track Name: Notorious
The lipstick-stained remains of a crumpled handkerchief left on the table overnight, after the club. Where the strobing lasers lit my drink and I couldn't help but think of Cary Grant under Suspicion. Through the fog, I swore I saw utopian landmarks on the horizon, abstract visions of the possibilities - and when the lights came back on I was pleasantly surprised to see my eyes were not deceived.
Track Name: Evening tapestry
It is twilight now, and I am comfortable in bed. Through the window downstairs, Margot watches cherry blossoms blow down the street. Making sighing sounds, like a comb through hair, or hunger, or wind - weaving through a cemetery, pausing... A cool caress on concrete headstones in the dusk, or a whispered "Goodbye, love."
Track Name: Skeletons
Running out of places to hang my clothes, what with all the skeletons in my closet (ha ha ha ha). Ringing bells entering rooms through keyholes, phantom symbols of my former selves - the disfigured apparitions that I know too well. Tried to show them to the door, at least a hundred times before, my hospitality long spent - 'cause like the persevering pet that finds its way back to my step, always a most unwelcome guest. Bored by the chatter of a hollow skull, speaking to a corpse the conversation's dull (blah blah blah blah). Sometimes they come out and surprise my friends, bleeding eyes and histrionic cries no less; mumbling musings on an upcoming apocalypse. Tried to show them to the door, at least a hundred times before, my hospitality long drained - 'cause like the parasitic louse that lays its eggs inside your blouse, they hatch themselves inside my house.
Track Name: Memory museum
Would it be a crime if I should bind the hands of time? I'd halt the creaking clock and force its ticking cogs and gears to stop. Crack the mirror maze, invert the gaze, and with the shards of our days, carve the beauty all around us in our sagging skin. If it were up to me, I'd build a grand museum to house our humble histories. Hobbling down its halls, we'd marvel at the memories that play upon its walls. Cast the vast impressions of our sensory successes in an abstract mold to hold within our skeletons as we grow old. In my reverie, I built a grand museum to house our fleeting fantasies. Marching down its halls, we'll marvel at the lovely times that hang upon its walls.
Track Name: Mirror mansion
Did you see the fading painting hanging crookedly up in the hall? The gruesome tableau didn't seem to shock the senses of the guests for long. Distorted reflections mingled with the sunlight playing on the wall, as kaleidoscopic inundation kept the mansions occupants enthralled. In my dream, a swarm of flies was hovering just above a piece of meat. And this decomposing slab of flesh though dead continuously bleeds - I see a mirror maze reflected in their gaze, amidst the whir of wings and stained proboscises. From the mezzanine I watched the prismic chandeliers refract their glow, swaying slowly just above the heads of all the visitors below. Closing up the windows, an attempt to quell, the growing sense of gloom - the summer moon still dapples all the darkening walls and corners of the room. In my dream a nebulous black cloud surrounds a slab of rotting meat, and in this sinewy mass of flesh the flies proceed to smear their seed - their brood, a family of cold carnality; buzzing a lullaby to their larval children.
Track Name: Wax fangs
Pairs of wax fangs, flickering pumpkins - whisper something lovely now. Mountain weekend, changing seasons - colors turn around our heads. Tell me about your dreams - disturbing as they seem, what do you think they mean, if anything? Penned a letter to a friend who read it while the ink was wet. Autumn evening, can't believe that Halloween has come again. Tell me about your dreams, beautiful as they seem, what do you think they mean, if anything?