Get all 5 Holy '57 releases available on Bandcamp and save 10%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Y, Alison, L, O, and H.
1. |
||||
Well, she told me this story once:
Two men walking in a line,
One is reading a map and the other’s checking time,
Been out here for days, pushing through the undergrowth,
Tracking the forest floor, searching for an antidote.
Men of medicine, as the jungle opens up,
See out against the dusk a rising plume of smoke,
Set themselves a course to this new unknown abode,
With hope of food and water and finding shelter for themselves.
Two men walk into a town,
To stares of apprehension from those who’ve gathered round,
One leans in to the ear of the other,
And whispers, “they are different to us, brother…”
Two men wake at early dawn,
Taking specimens from the village they had found,
The village where they slept, the village where they ate,
The village with the people who had not invited them.
So the one man marks it on his map,
To notify himself where to bring the others back,
Then looks toward the other, who, knowing of the time,
Set off by himself to continue with their plight.
And by evening,
He is deep in the wilderness,
Where he spots a plant that he does not know,
From any book of science or his studies back home,
And for a closer glance,
He lights his lamp and leans in,
Only to be shocked by a hiss and drop his flame,
And retreat to the darkness.
One girl running in a line,
With ashes in her hair, tears streaming from her eyes,
She doesn’t need a map and she doesn’t need the time,
Been living among these lands since she was a little child.
So this young girl turns herself around,
To face up to the scene that has turned her life to hell,
She sees the plume of smoke on the blood horizon,
And shifting silhouettes of three, four, five men.
Mamaji: ...and it was there he had this, sort of, hanging
|
||||
2. |
Diorama
03:50
|
|||
3. |
The Big Sleep
04:06
|
|||
4. |
||||
The first sighting of her I had was in a dream.
I was still working on the thesis then. So of course in my unconscious hours I was a gleeful wanderer, traversing the world, an unfolding universe of the pure, distilled refractions of my unconscious, my yearning and hope and loss and love made material in the fabrics of my firing synapses.
And this journey brought me to a wide and winding river in the heart of what I sensed was my mind’s luminous imaginary of suburban Japan. The topography was not urban nor rural, but almost gaseous and effervescent. Purple, pink, warm orange hues bled all around me, dancing between air and water. It was beautiful.
And stretching over me there, and cast across the river of deep magenta, there were these big trees. Big, purple, glowing trees, and giant fluorescent water lilies lapsing between oranges and pinks and suddenly, to my left, in the fantastical water, there was a canoe. And this canoe was readied to take us – yes, now it was us, not just me – downstream, to the great transformative unknown of this other world.
And as we boarded our brave wooden vessel, and pushed off from shore, and began to feel the current embrace us, I sensed her up ahead. I gazed into the undergrowth, as the mystery beyond the riverbend neared, and between the trunks of two wondrous purple-pink trees, there she was – smiling, adorned with jewellery that gently rang out dulcet tones, and cloaked in a reassuring aura of peace and affection and wisdom. And I, overjoyed to see her once more and to be in this place of infinite wonder, leapt from starboard to reach the shore where she stood. And at the zenith of my jump, I woke up.
|
||||
5. |
Cambridge, MA
03:34
|
|||
the city
sunder rajan lecture:
even the most resolutely anticolonial, socialist are caught in webs of neoliberal global capital in all sorts of ways
holy '57:
we live in a city that runs on our lives
it counts us in packets and bits it classifies
and stitches us together to make capitalised
the self iterated and commodified
architecture twisted with algorithmic eyes
im dizzy in the database im digitally blind
welcome to our institution! our great institution!
applaud our elocution! we are an institution!
it is a question of politics
it is a question of religion
it is a question of communication
it is a question of democracy
it is a question of science
it is a question of hard fact
it is a question of opinion
it is not a question
we built us a city to govern our lives
it predicts it promotes provides and elides
but who chose this future? and who made this mind?
and who stands to gain? and who gets to mine?
infrastructure coded on interrupted lines
drunken on commodities im looking for a fight
bring down the institution! bring down the algorithm!
all hail our revolution! a great new institution!
it is a matter of economics
it is a matter of history
it is a matter of taste
it is a matter of free speech
it is a matter of pseudoscience
it is a matter of truth
it is a matter without fact
it doesnt matter at all
we love this institution we love this institution
we love the algorithm we love this institution
sunder rajan lecture:
its an imagination of the poor that presumes technocracy - that you build a technology and it will get down to the poor - and that presumes the seamless functioning of trickle down economics
within the question of representation at the end of the day you are still dealing with elite communities who are speaking for others who are not at the table
elite communities elite communities elite communities
holy '57:
it is my mother and father
it is my sister and brother
it is my lover and teacher
it is my office and healer
it is my favourite things
it is my intimate thoughts
it is my future and past
but it is not me
it is a matter of economics
it is a matter of history
it is a matter of taste
it is a matter of free speech
it is a matter of pseudoscience
it is a matter of truth
it is a matter without fact
it doesnt matter at all
|
||||
6. |
Hyper-real
03:34
|
|||
hyper-real thing
realer than the real thing
any worlds in
everything is blurring
it could really work like that
it could really work like that
it could really work like that
it could really work like
i can break a habit when i want
i could fall into a kind of bliss
i could feel another sort of calm
if I could really make it re-exist
i could never see you in the flesh
i could never take you in my arms
you could never guide me through the rest
but you can be my hyper-real one
i dont really know if youre really here
i dont really care if youre in my head
you can become something else i can remake you anew
is that a fake? is it too soon?
hyper-real thing
memory of dreaming
never leaving
living in a feeling
i could really live like that
i could really live like that
i could really live like that
i could really live like
illuminated
easy to remain in
recollected
memories that faded
i could really live like that
i could really live like that
i could really live like that
i could really live like that
the hyper-real thing is everything i need
its simplified its safe and its empty
of imperfections and unexpected actions
i can know it all i can see it all and ill tell you
i can break a habit when i want
i could fall into a kind of bliss
i could feel another sort of calm
if I could really make it re-exist
i could never see you in the flesh
i could never take you in my arms
you could never guide me through the rest
but you can be my hyper-real one
simulation
digital enhancement
imagination
teeming with the transience
it could really work like that
it could really work like that
it could really work like that
it could really work like that
its in my house now
its in my car now
its in my dreams now
hyper-real thing
realer than the real thing
any worlds in
everything is blurring
it could really work like that
it could really work like that
it could really work like that
it could really work like
simulation
digital enhancement
imagination
teeming with the transience
i could really live like that
i could really live like that
i could really live like that
i could really live like
|
||||
7. |
Sighting #2
03:09
|
|||
8. |
Boston, Hibernating
06:00
|
|||
And now I'm here
The morning of the funeral
6th January 2018
Mamaji: It was mad, it was mad when independence came, when India got independence, and the English had to get out as soon as possible
Finally at peace with your passing
But every now and then I still think to call you up
Been reminiscing on the sound of your laughter
Sometimes I can hear you like I could swear that you’re right here
This frigid New England February
Been one month since your funeral
Boston hibernating
On pale ale and in sports bars
See myself in the ice of the Charles
I look a lot older than I did six months ago
The days are short but they’re starting to get longer
Finding my new tempo swimming in your afterglow
This waning New England frozen landscape
Been two months since your funeral
Boston melting slowly
But I’m still working on it
Will I ever be at peace with your passing?
With springtime grasses gentle on my skin and head
Put my ear to the breeze and I listen
Your apparition whispers to me ‘it's alright’
But in this waking New England verdant springtime
Three months since your funeral
Boston’s coming to life
But I can’t take you with me
Can I take you with me?
I won't forget you
You made me who I am
And fam sticks together
Fam sticks together
This waking New England verdant springtime
Three months since your funeral
Boston coming to life
But I can’t take you with me
Mamaji: radio station...listen to the program...from ten to eleven, nine to eleven, and, uh, I sort of, uh, one day while I was fiddling with my needle on the radio, I suddenly realised some Indian music was there...
...and of course I came to... Awwaz radio, Monday Tuesday nights at nine o'clock. And then I would think of some ghazal for him to play. And then he, now he comes to teach me here, you see? This is how life goes, you know?
Because the star, I am the star [laughs]
|
Holy '57 London, UK
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
Streaming and Download help
If you like Holy '57, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp