from Wanderweg by Eisenlager, released 26 July 2014
Download @ archive.org/details/petroglyph248eisenlager-wanderweg
The album Wanderweg is an album about travel routes, traveled not by car - but by foot! And Himmelholzsteg is one of these: www.ferosh.de/huashan-berg-in-china-wahl-zwischen-einer-tasse-tee-oder-dem-tod/
I woke up in the middle of the night, well that is if three o clock counts as the middle that is. What had woken me up at this hour? A light! A light coming from the kitchen that would normally at this hour be dressed in darkness of the night. Still half-drunk from being so unexpectedly awoken from a deep experience in dreamland; I got up and walked without thinking in to the kitchen.
There it was.. I remember them from an earlier review a few weeks ago… A pair of angel wings without the angel who checked out the content of the fridge.
“going for a midnight snack?!’ My voice said rather loud. The wings flapped as if they had an instant heart attack.
Don’t worry.. I remember you.. You brought nice music the last time that you came by… Take a seat and I’ll fix you a sandwich.” The angel wings without angel attached to them listened quite well for a substance without ears, and sat down at the kitchen table with a lot of fapping feathers.
I fixed some slices of dry bread with crunched sugar cubes on top and served it to the angel wings. I don’t know how the angel wings ate them as there was no mouth visible, but with a lot of feather action made the slices of sugar cube pulp disappear.
The angel wings flopped out a little envelope on the table. I thought ‘why can’t angel wings talk, but they can eat?’ I opened up the envelope with my teeth and found a piece of paper inside with a handwritten mysterious note:
As a side note – since you had reviewed this album –
thought you’d be interested in experiencing this if you still have not - www.youtube.com/watch?v=MU8djbgYx0I&list=UUNF_WnbnCM_Nr-S0Bkr9NMw
Sorry if you’d already seen this…
I couldn’t believe it.. Couldn’t this message not wait until the morning? Why had this to be delivered in the middle of the night by a hungry pair of angel wings without angel attached to it? I wanted my sugar cubes back but then again I calmed down and clicked the link just out of curiosity.
My half awake mind was in for a audio and visual middle of the night snack, perfectly forming a border between dream and reality. The music was familiar as it had met my ears before over here, but the video images opened up a new mood and tone to the actual music.
I was suddenly inside this movie, completely forgetting the angel wings as my senses blurred and got together with the eye candy and sound.
Strategic blurry images that perfectly blended into my own dreamy head, kaleidoscopic imagery that formed shapes and at enough peeking; even became the shape of a girl. A girl in her birthday suit all in a blur but yet distinctive enough to see two round shapes of boobies and a small waste. More image hocus locus revealed itself and images of fantasy turned into pulsing outlines of vibrating underwater volcanoes, strange shadows and I saw even Pinocchio pop up in this trip. The girl became clearer and this time she was fully dressed but teasing. Was this not the girl that had been dominating the covers of the Midnight Radio Compilations?
I slowly fell asleep to have more wicked lucid dreams.
If you want to have more of the music used in this video, please feel free to check out the album ‘Wanderweg’ by Eisenlager:
or perhaps visit these angel wings without their angel:
"The ‘Wanderweg’ starts at the ‘Himmelholzteg #featuring (Philippe Gerber John316) (Wings of an Angel) (Kostas Staikos Substak) It’s a rusty place that sounds warm and cold at the same time, as if the walls of the surrounding empty houses are melting while a ghostly spirit cools the hotness down by dropping the pressure below zero. When you think that this is a place that you can feel alone at, a sudden voice pops up out of the strange sounding spooky soundscape.
Before being able to know who this person was; the flow of singing emptiness that haunts the surroundings is getting more disturbed. Some soft but rolling noise is coming in like a broken mechanic that rolls by in an industrial factorized wheelchair. Instead of passing by the clittering sound of the authentic wheelchair is circulating the listeners. Me, you, we! We want to run, but our legs are not going anywhere. Here we stand as our feet had sank in fresh cement surrounded by a rolling wheelchair pushed by a choir of ghostly spirits."