this disk

Naps

2011-02-13T17:51:00.000-08:00

2011-02-13T17:48:00.000-08:00

2011-02-08T14:02:00.000-08:00

I ask
what pen
to pick up

with what
grip
do i hold
it
my face
wears an unknown
look

do I read
out of lip

2011-01-28T15:45:00.000-08:00

2011-01-24T03:05:00.001-08:00

2011-01-24T02:43:00.000-08:00

2011-01-04T16:32:00.001-08:00

2010-11-30T05:17:00.001-08:00

2010-11-18T02:10:00.000-08:00

2010-11-15T03:20:00.001-08:00

it's that little souvenir of a terrible year

2010-11-15T01:37:00.000-08:00

2010-11-04T04:22:00.000-07:00

some of us are building houses
places where we say we live
cut the joke in half and then
i'll buy myself a little prison

i will not crash
i'll buy a plot and be buried on my back

i am a potential earner
swimming in potential sea
every day i drive my car
across the city
across the street

i will not crash
i'll buy a plot and be buried on my back
i'll make a vow and tire but never take it back
i'll work a job and wake up when the sky is black

i'll buy a plot and be buried on my back

separate the gold from silver
hang it on the christmas tree
let us saturate the future
here's to our dreams and our degrees

2010-10-17T17:56:00.001-07:00

2010-10-04T13:40:00.000-07:00

this should read Laneway 2010
- "Clarie". "I just like good music"

rag/ship contribution

2010-09-16T04:20:00.000-07:00

outtakes of press shoot with veronica c-p

2010-09-15T05:05:00.000-07:00

2010-09-09T04:17:00.000-07:00

2010-09-09T03:48:00.001-07:00

2010-08-23T03:48:00.001-07:00

2010-08-17T03:58:00.001-07:00

2010-08-12T20:22:00.001-07:00

Dear Time's Waste // Blue&Gold dir. Veronica Crockford-Pound

2010-07-21T04:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Time's Waste, Blue and Gold from veronica crockford-pound on Vimeo.

2010-07-17T17:21:00.001-07:00

2010-06-26T18:17:00.001-07:00

A Poemz by Matthew Crawley

2010-06-17T16:01:00.001-07:00

A carnival of loopy hounds,
the dreamers who stuck to their bubble guns

A strange paradise, this part time anarchy
down by the riverside (with little sunken boats)

A red-mist history built the kitchen table,
and philosophers who sit here are drunken and will never remember your name
(but you are always welcome)

*

A carnival of loopy hounds,
emptied halls, saved by mad philanthropy,
to be filled by g-g-ghost echoes until summer hits

A strange paradise, these batty streets,
coarse closed windows (we are not open on Wednesdays or Saturdays sir!)
when all you wanted was a delicious little feast

A red-mist history swims around in here,
dried up conk-a-rete basin a-full of words like "DROP" and "AROMA!"
(and but and you don't quite feel welcome hmmm)

*

A carnival of loopy hounds,
limping and sniff-snouting, for old times sake
Hound! You stink! You reek!
and the dreamers stick to their bubble gum

A strange paradise, in the silly night
pacing about the labyrinth (we're new here, just looking thank you)
Ahoy! You on the river! Take this! And this!
and for the rest of the night a little feast and some fire

A remissed history and some piraticals built this castle
scattered amongst are courthouses and cubicles
(like a tornado that gifts gifts in-stead was about)
and we are always welcome, they said
and we are always welcome.

2010-06-08T01:43:00.000-07:00

i love telling about the form of things, now people are running, it's impossible not to feel the rain even if you were blind but in a town you have to assume the whole burden of all the close people, are you scared yet, instead of practically owning the trees and squirrels that light up your room like private property if we were in the woods together.

2010-06-04T15:45:00.001-07:00

2010-06-04T15:26:00.001-07:00

2:27
2:50

2010-06-04T15:10:00.000-07:00

2010-06-04T15:09:00.000-07:00

2010-06-04T00:20:00.001-07:00

.. .... ..
.. .... ..
When a woman has her back turned, you don't know whether she's smiling or scowling.
'I don't know if you're a detective or a pervert.'.. .... ..
Private thought is shielded by the clatter of bells, as a wash of light disguises a familiar face. It is the ghost on a throne, and the woman next door; the touch of cold skin and the illusion of the stage.
.. .... ..
background music provides a wall of sound which obliterates the presence of everyone, including oneself.
this anonymous privacy renders the moral qualities of the artist irrelevant; she may be a liar and a cheat, a murderer, a sneak and a thief.
-Lyn Hejinian, A thought is the Bride of what thinking

2010-05-26T00:28:00.001-07:00

don't pretend you're not filthy

2010-05-18T02:55:00.001-07:00

2010-05-13T18:47:00.000-07:00

2010-04-15T06:19:00.001-07:00

2010-04-11T15:31:00.000-07:00

2010-04-11T14:45:00.000-07:00

thisis
an extension of my last;

breathing doesnt stop until when?
the moment between inhale & exhale
what happens then?>

2010-04-07T16:12:00.001-07:00

2010-04-07T04:18:00.000-07:00

2010-04-06T14:03:00.000-07:00

2010-03-31T04:01:00.001-07:00

2010-03-29T04:28:00.001-07:00

a pen is home
a field is home
a hedge is home

2010-03-29T03:58:00.001-07:00

2010-03-29T03:18:00.000-07:00

Sia | Buttons (Music Video) from Concord Music Group on Vimeo.

walls are brown ground/ground is brown dusty down

2010-03-16T05:03:00.000-07:00

2010-02-23T01:42:00.001-08:00

grey face
leukemia green
your eyes, bagged in such a saggy dream

crouch and look
up like
you used to do

2010-02-23T01:30:00.000-08:00

2010-01-29T16:12:00.001-08:00

But now in this room, which I enter without knocking, things are said as if they had been written. I go to the bookcase. If I choose, I read half a page of anything. I need not speak. But I listen. I am marvellously on the alert. Certainly, one cannot read this poem without effort. The page is often corrupt and mud-stained, and torn and stuck together with faded leaves, with scraps of verbena or geranium. To read this poem one must have myriad eyes, like one of those lamps that turn on slabs of racing water at midnight in the Atlantic, when perhaps only a spray of seaweed pricks the surface, or suddenly the waves gape and up shoulders a monster. One must put aside antipathies and jealousies and not interrupt. One must have patience and infinite care and let the light sound, whether of spiders' delicate feet on a leaf or the chuckle of water in some irrelevant drain-pipe, unfold too. Nothing is to be rejected in fear or horror. The poet who has written this page (what I read with people talking) has withdrawn. There are no commas or semi-colons. The lines do not run in convenient lengths. Much is sheer nonsense. One must be sceptical, but throw caution to the winds and when the door opens accept absolutely. Also sometimes weep; also cut away ruthlessly with a slice of the blade soot, bark, hard accretions of all sorts. And so (while they talk) let down one's net deeper and deeper and gently draw in and bring to the surface what he said and she said and make poetry.

2010-01-28T00:16:00.000-08:00

2010-01-09T19:51:00.001-08:00

2009-12-01T23:29:00.000-08:00

understand there is no healing

2009-11-27T14:41:00.000-08:00

WHEN WE WAKE UP FROM THE DREAM

2009-11-27T14:13:00.000-08:00

this is a song by my friend tim. the video is like a dream space, &the song heartstabbing.

beautiful video

2009-11-27T14:05:00.001-08:00

2009-11-24T03:26:00.001-08:00

2009-11-23T03:21:00.000-08:00

this is real cute
"i never started a gig without my headphones it must have been the sushi bombs [?]"
no comma
no breathe

SOME TREES

2009-11-12T00:36:00.000-08:00

These are amazing: each
Joining a neighbor, as though speech
Were a still performance.
Arranging by chance

To meet as far this morning
From the world as agreeing
With it, you and I
Are suddenly what the trees try

To tell us we are:
That their merely being there
Means something; that soon
We may touch, love, explain.

And glad not to have invented
Some comeliness, we are surrounded:
A silence already filled with noises,
A canvas on which emerges

A chorus of smiles, a winter morning.
Place in a puzzling light, and moving,
Our days put on such reticence
These accents seem their own defense.

John Ashbery

2009-11-02T02:26:00.000-08:00

2009-11-02T02:25:00.000-08:00

2009-11-02T02:22:00.000-08:00

2009-11-01T16:36:00.001-08:00

DOVESTARTER peels ^^ (n.) some kind of love master
;(some type of skin shafter, false father plied harder)
take: a yellow potato peeler. to: the white fur ear.
it’s all pale pink underneath, secretes under a net of feather and beak

dreaming of this animal:

running from problems,
fertile or proliferating

sore-side and profiteroleplay, peels its tongue into pieces
sniffing pink &white pheromones collected from its seeping bones
braid into a kitely rope
hey rabbit drover dove, white feather duvet slip,
you could benefit by being more or less like this
*

2009-11-01T16:33:00.000-08:00

=enter the historian and his public.

cd: he will demand me
will he shake a stick

=enter the space behind the female eye.

cd: she will demand me
& I will grate my fist

wordswords black to right
“ left to white
enter crowd. gather round togeth to observe
cd faints. falls. to get gutter. papers flapflutter shitshutter expandorum she can’t hold it in anylonger.cut with butter what a fucken splutter cd vomits (nb: prop dept//bakedbean&glue cut with butter) observe the bright yellow and the scrunchy money falling out of her face in balls.hands of Herr Hold sapping with colour, all cd’s food is purple peachum red & blue

historian: (demands) what have you been eating>???
before the law your colours now!
these are the shapes we call ourselves!
this is the country we call our home!
yours are the bodies we wish to own!

slept of a stanza
cd stands
shakily raising her colour-spatted hands
slowly the historian meets her poke

cd: it’s laughter the paper,
it’s laughter for all

2009-11-01T16:31:00.001-08:00

woman in public

i do my dirtiest work on screen, a public shearing shot in HD, but if you want to know my private hysteria it’s the secretion scene. typing in the white slot this virtual excretion, i eat my meals alone in my bedroom. i love it when you throw the gazpacho at my face. i don’t often wear red. sometimes when i’m due i let it slip and kiss you. my ogle is filthful and it spatters all over the tv, around the lounge. i do sit-ups on the kitchen floor. some hundred metres along the eroxxx stretch, i am a twenty-inch queenie and cutting like butter. there’s a man disguised as moving billboard, 021creamit; he calls himself and i just laugh. my legs are open for all eyes, on the roadside and up the glossy highrise. the hard bread tastes of cucumber, the soft of bell pepper; vinegar of wine. and salt. we share my meal and you vomit before even making it to the basin. it takes a few minutes and as many tissues to mop up.

ero/neuro

i’m seized on the streetside, back once before long. there’s babywipes in my handbag. and mineral water, for a stone shower. in 10 weeks just one rule, click it to read my story. couraged of a lover on the eyeball blade, i watch buñuel with no clothes on, crying oh for simon of the desert. my mother’s next door but she’s not bothered by the sound of penetration. there’s that convincing special effect when i’m alone. straining at a fragment pix of here n there, scrambling for a phrase to conjure me upside and make me sick. my speaker’s wearing a suit, but the dirty knees give her away. i like country rockers and cowboys and having something to rub against. i read that being female’s ‘both a blessing and a curse’, searching for two sticks, one to stop the blood and one to start it. let’s try this on a positive premise, a productive position, if you wave the banner i’ll carry the baton. cutting tomato for the gazpacho, wearing your purdy red shirt, my finger’s in the way, my head’s in the basin and everything gets wet. the blender’s on, i’m in nylon stockings and think about your special tools and how terrible you are. i put the drink in the fridge cause it tastes better chilled. still i can’t help but take a lukewarm swig.

2009-10-22T14:01:00.000-07:00

2009-10-19T01:17:00.000-07:00

this friend of mine has this awesome blog and this is the link

body parts

2009-10-13T03:31:00.000-07:00

brown spot about

slug

fluff inrising,,

blue rip tied tearing,,

to pale lumps

above wrink led joint
connecting,,

flayed strands

within halfbound curve suck,,

canteen he at her

witha wink ing,, wink l e t the liquid
without tangling,, loose,wet,red,ropes

spla yed fleshy pillows slap
so stick y

2009-10-09T18:26:00.001-07:00

2009-10-08T01:16:00.000-07:00

There is
How was
And an

Absorb in

My waist

What I do
What do I do

The canned
Kia ora
Can you

This instant
My moment
Held forward

Kinesthete
We’re ours
My mine
Us ours

Exchange
My maze
Both ways

Some thinking
I pay
Our bills
These words
From your book

Arrows
Some concave
Would we be
Enriched

My speaker
A talker
This much wider

Gutsy average
Sucks a separate
Kind of logic

I build statues
Grey pockets
Subdivisions

Cast in glue
Mark jump clunk
Pour

Liquid glass
On our crosshatched faces

2009-10-04T22:35:00.001-07:00

an icecream of roses
thread in cone
peeling around
stalks like wire and
as i pull one away
someone coughs .

lemon, seashell, last week’s lilac
my tongue a bouquet circle
in glow hum,
a rush of blonde
a ripened room
>a wave>a circle>a lick
our names a splatter portrait on the wall

department store ceiling is the fluoro sky
a wide tall forceful form
buying socks (yes socks)
the fleecy thick type men wear
connected by plastic. laid flat
we will take them home and roll them into balls.

i exchange coin for cover with that actress via glass pane
she looks serious
a rush of blonde concern
we leave with socks to an open sky
the hill up ahead is the road to school
trees and moves
the actress over there in work shirt and tiny leathers
stalking up all flesh heels legs on asphalt
while the sun threw down

yr body is hidden yr vomit in the gutter rubs
yr head is child-size in a fabric eruption
yr ribs hurt i am looking from up down on you
yr hair curls under me yr lying in bright colour
yr beige seizure yr breath rasps sharping
people stand nearby asking questions .

i feed on my own pillow!
vampiricising sleep!
a wide field where i run races against heads with punched up faces

when my friends return
from prolonged frothing fits of adventure
weeping from each servile crevice
we queue up and shake hand in celebration
we roll an awkward joint in jubilation
still sheepish in the shadow of our parents’ squeaky sneakers
this is the town where i grew up
let us never speak of it again

my seat
a lurcher
smacks of fraudulence, A wandering core
i bleed on my own pillow
the rear door’s open and cold airs flood my upper right thigh
spiral kite, kete ora
i am a messy text; a jumble of alphabits; sever-bellum, brain fixx, pop jizzes:
this is how you spell my name
sola scriptosaurus, on the wall in yellow paint.

2009-10-02T21:54:00.000-07:00

ought to want to get away and go get and go away and get go there get arrived and get into go into there be gone be arriving be there be here be into be all over be worked get work go working get to work be at work get good at it go into it all over it get under all be in between it get in the cracks go deep get dirty go wide be broad got greater get enough getting more got wide get got getting got get deep go get

2009-10-02T21:50:00.000-07:00

livelihood
blue frames a window
glass is black
weathered fluoro
and a sports store lit up at night
a straight stretch of town
bricks on weatherboard watch
moon is low
gauzed by patchy square hedge
there is even now
a slivery reflect of unseen beam

livelihood
please bury me with my boots on
even though you'll have to break my ankles

2009-09-17T02:08:00.001-07:00

thecorner.co.nz

2009-09-15T06:10:00.000-07:00

2009-09-15T06:02:00.000-07:00

2009-09-15T05:49:00.000-07:00

2009-09-15T05:15:00.000-07:00

2009-09-13T23:35:00.000-07:00

2009-09-01T02:28:00.000-07:00

Otherwise I wouldn't hv discovered this
Otherwise I wouldnät have diuscoveerd this
Otherwise I wouldnät have discovered ithis'
Otherwise I wouldn't have discovered this
Otherwise I wouödnt have discovered this
Otherwise I wouldn't have discovered this'Otherwise
Othwerwise I wouödn't have disocvered this
Otherwise I wouöldnt have discovered this<>Otherwiss I wouödnät have discovered this
>Otehrwise AI wouldn't have disoceverd this
'Otehrwise I wouöldn't have discovered this
Otherwise I wouldnt have discodiscoeverd this<>

2009-08-31T01:03:00.000-07:00

we inhale air and

we spew glue
flies swim through it
bodies fall
back end
force

rumble an slosh,

jusget onwithit

a basin of wet rubble
choked up,

we pull at air
and wes pew glue

2009-08-30T22:27:00.001-07:00

last night's dream

2009-08-30T02:11:00.001-07:00

department store, a kmart, a wide tall forceful form buying socks, yes socks, the fleecy thick type that men wear
this young lady was at the checkout, through a glass pane
she looked like claire danes, she was claire danes, in my dream she can be especially as we almost have the same name
kiiiiinndle.
there was a problem, she looked at me seriously, all blonde concerned
we (?) left the store, me and you with socks and walked up a road to see her ahead, she is dressed in tiny leathers, all flesh heels legs on asphalt while the sun threw down

we spew glue

2009-08-30T02:01:00.000-07:00

2009-08-29T01:18:00.000-07:00

2009-08-26T01:33:00.000-07:00

world of words you spill on me and are inhaled by my skin worm through my insides in a stream like sprinkles of starshaped fish somehow coloured by all and of everyone around you through a passage these throbbing walls project and push you along your gentle little way, the stream life the stream life that sounds like singing underwater it is celestial at a distance can I have more reverb on the vocals please

the gap between my cornea my cochlea my cavities is not wide, there is little space through which to give birth because the processes inside never manifest in reality when I was eight I wanted to make a mask, it was of a bird, it was for a parade at my school and it was so clear the picture of the bird in my mind and I was so disappointed when my hands failed to produce what my mind could see I have an idea I have an idea you must understand that I know more than you know what it means, that I understand and that I have an idea I just don’t know how to say it, you must understand that I just don’t know how to say it and my face goes red when I try the processes never manifest the baby’s head is just too big for the birth canal

so cut me open precisely make a precise incision incise precision I think that is a good idea do you? take that scalpel that red surgeon’s mask so I can’t see your teeth or your red lips and cut me open and wait watch the stream explode and flow and the words fly out all over the place and stick to all sorts of objects like little leeches they are everywhere they are on your scrub and glove and red surgical mask and there is one that got cut by your scalpel but now it makes two

the exercise if nothing else spreads the words so you can see the fish in my head that they swim at least as fast as yours, the voices layered upon each other is always a nice trick, your voice sounds nice harmonising with itself singing ahhhhh ahhhhhhh hmmmmmm hmmmmmm ohhh brothheerrr oohhh brotherrrrr over the pvvvvrrrrr pvvvrrrrrrr drone of grey dusty warmth and I want to listen to that song again

I don’t think I’ll read this over but I’m aware of my curling spine spatting like a dying eco bulb, the blue paper balloon light makes this room a morgue and the departure of a flatmate wrapped in wood into the boot of his parent’s car while us two watch tv then do the dishes

still watching a cracked screen it makes its own skyscape it has its own moon and my mum thought it was a painting, it breathes back at me when I push at the pieces with my finger purple ripples cellular divisions and always that one moon in the top left hand corner of the sky that secret spot you want me to show you where to touch

the cmyk flood
how I love your white noise

a guy from my english class found this in a lecture hall and posted it online. his name is gary, my name is claire.

2009-08-17T14:39:00.000-07:00

2009-08-16T00:52:00.000-07:00

2009-08-11T03:01:00.000-07:00

I keep my cellphone in my pocket
while I make coffee in the kitchen
I keep my breath close
to my chest as I wait in line
I keep my hands inside my
jacket when I’m walking outside
I keep empty beer bottles in the toilet
and think about removing them
I keep a woollen hat on my head
even though I’m indoors
I keep the door shut when I’m writing
although there’s no one home
I keep a cracked screen beside a new one
because I hate throwing things away
I keep scrolling up to erase the words
with the fuzzy green lines
I keep lists blu-tacked on my walls
despite the peel effect it has on paint
I keep vitamins beside deodorant
I keep a claim form on the desktop
I keep apple juice in a Guinness glass
I keep playing at delete page up <
I keep cameras at the chemist, they have piles of photographs under my name
I keep telling myself I’m interesting
I keep biting my nails
I keep a Mr. Potato Head on my stereo
I keep spending money on food I can’t afford
I keep forgetting to look at my lists because I’ve made too many and they fall off the wall in the cold
I keep Nivea on the shelf and Tascam on the floor, I keep a kitten under my bed and needles on the table, I keep on thinking of you who is reading this now and I keep my underwear in a drawer I keep tapping the F with my left pointer and think of the email I got back from him I keep reading into punctuation or lack thereof I keep my mother’s ring on my wedding finger and my breath steady I keep Nick above the clock and PJ on the opposite so they can see each other I keep a lighter in my bag though I don’t smoke I keep paper in my drawer and my feet up on the dashboard I keep Hejinian on the wall despite the peel effect she has on paint ‘and so I was returning’ I keep my woollen hat on my head I keep my disgusting habits to myself

toowanwan

2009-08-06T23:04:00.000-07:00

a nexercis

of nintellect

beside

youwhomleftaspaceformetosith

the pattern of a tree graph

you, asked to describe

the skin

tween mi fingers peel

psssssssssshh

and i recognise you by your spectacles and your lesson-voice

fal-yure ,

[flaler?]

no, you-are-a fay-el-yure

spun shadow about dis corner

[yo loki com roun dere]

a glance down side me

impresito?

[data impresito.]

ah, yes take a loan

cone arrow fringe

i just stare back at him

most move at once and loki bak

psssh

this seats no room

the separatist

pssssh

and when the students shift

stiff chest exhausts and i move too, from my space

the bus pssssssshh

breath happy sigh toowanwan

and i feel eyes but just sound conversation

and i think we all thought we'd be brilliant, didn't we all think we'd one of us be?

and i circle cause you're on you and i'm on me yet we both here on toowanwan together.

2009-07-21T01:01:00.000-07:00

2009-07-20T02:58:00.000-07:00

2009-07-17T21:54:00.000-07:00

my favourite song right now and one of the best videos i've ever seen

2009-07-08T06:02:00.000-07:00

outside yourself, cold grey in the riverbed,
under your breath singing Phantom, lay your insides out.

swollen breath floods a stale frosty chest
lopsided, it begins to spread
broken and knit into a woollen web

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

2009-07-08T06:00:00.001-07:00

"YOU are the DAY so DAwning"
(I can't see it with these eyes, so squinting, Yet smiling.
(This tongue, lip, hand can't tell your picture For it WILLS me to stop and stare at you

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You tug at my secret pocket
And shed THis seamless light
Palm to palm,
Food of flesh unto

Consequent breath, it's cold star fresh in here
This space is shaped like you
Not so selfish
As to keep it to yourself.

I will sit and admire; an eyesmile whispers once,
Once will never be enough.

2009-07-08T05:43:00.000-07:00

tell me the reasons why - i cannot realise which one is mine. what better way to sigh
than to exhale all of the things i've tried? lit by white light i write, thinking of
nothing but what i haven't done. twisting the arm of fate, blindfolding everything i'm supposed to

do

sometimes bloodiness is all i can see -
warming the organs inside me;blaming my brains for my failings;
living two lives that have found me - one where i sit; one i'm standing,
rising on dirt from beneath me

2009-07-07T23:17:00.000-07:00

Language is one of the principal forms our curiosity takes. It makes us restless. As Francis Ponge puts it, "Man is a curious body whose center of gravity is not in himself."

Instead it seems to be located

in language, by virtue of which we negotiate our mentalities and the world;

off-balance,
heavy at the mouth,

we are pulled forward.

2009-07-06T05:14:00.000-07:00

the colour blue you're wearing - it makes your mind look sad, and though you smile at me i know you didn't sleep at all last night.

at the midnight supermarket, we can't even get a bottle of wine. next time i guess we'll have to plan if we want to overflow the bags under our eyes.

she cheats on him. he flirts with me. i bite my nails until they bleed. i'm only 21 and i feel like a

big

old

baby.

this is all, so, SO important
OHMYGOD it's really quite serious.
aging faces
are a visible ache
of all these years living in this serious
serious place!!

(and we went swimming with the shock of it -
- and we went walking underwater)

wee feature in nzmusician

2009-07-01T00:36:00.000-07:00

keyauras

2009-06-30T23:44:00.000-07:00

deerhunter review, etc.

2009-06-19T19:41:00.000-07:00

it was a total and absolute priv. to play with deerhunter the other night. really great. nice sarah gooding at einsteinmusicjournal gave a cool review of us on the night which you can see in full on their website but here is a wee excerpt:

"It also helped that the night was kicked off by the impressive Dear Time’s Waste, whose Clare Duncan proved she can out-sing most Auckland residents any time, even when she’s got the flu! DTW is growing stronger and more cohesive all the time. More than able musicians in their own right, on first impression they seemed slightly fragmented and unsure of themselves, but after touring and gigging extensively they have become a real force to be reckoned with. Clare’s enviable vocal range and skillful handling of her jaw-droppingly beautiful Rickenbacker guitar, together with the lean and stylish image the band cuts makes DTW a really enjoyable and professional act. With their mesmerising songs pulling a gauzy curtain over the early evening they really set the scene for a memorable gig."

spelt my name wrong, two points off. but 'lean and stylish' - thanks, we have been working on our figures.

also a timely shout to sarah's brother simon gooding at york st for being a super super amazing fellow and engineer for a wee track called 'alice' that is currently in the mix.

seagulls &bulldozer

2009-05-29T04:50:00.000-07:00