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| | | de stijl (usa) #ind 063 cd king darves “the sun splits for .. the blind swimmer” compact disc - oh i’ve come a ragin sun
- all in my sleep
- what for the stables
- this ivory
- fishhook
- seabird
- another shiny pepper
- she wants my song
- for sure
- home.aif
| | 2008 release ; cd version of this prior lp-only side from new jersey’s king darves ... |
| | de stijl press release... |
| king darves
the sun splits for .. the blind swimmer
ind - 063 cd
king darves
the sun splits for the blind swimmer
if you ask me (which i know you didn't) we are currently knee deep in a heap of cultural horseshit. it seems every piece of 'underground euphoria' i pick up these days just reeks of half hearted effort done to keep up with some sorta virtual 'joneses.' it all sounds like a load of sperm shot out into a purple bucket with no name or desire spiritually pinned to it; an effortless jack off done while staring blankly at a wall. hey! it's (fill in the blank) 'collaborating' with (fill in the blank) and it's been put out by (insert scene hanger's-on name here) in an edition of (keep it in the low hundreds) fact - this shit was recorded drunk and stoned by a buncha losers in a dark room who know much less than you do. might as well be a video of baboons showing you their naked asses. i declare anyone with any sense of dignity right now to step back from their instrument and reconvene at a later date. watch the food network. . . read some graham greene. . . do anything but create. breathe through every hole and feel the importance of doing less and being more. there are exceptions to this creative strike of course. danny dimaggio can keep swinging for all the world to see. so can the kids in dry rot. and most definitely the king darves of highland park, new jersey should keep it goin' 'til he spews blood and collapses.
much like a nice ass or a tasty meal, the appeal of the kings' music is direct and easy to understand. no one needs to refer to anything to 'take it in,' which is a welcomed relief. his voice bellows a deep, rich and sweet smoke reminiscent of the pipe tobacco that old guy used to puff behind the dugout. and the great thing is it's his. the guy's not singing with a fucking twang or trying to sound like a nineteenth century druid and/or political activist. his musical arrangements burst down any of those tight assed traditions newly founded by a league of youngsters who think it's gotta be played wrong (or played by the book) to be heard right. i tell ya ... calvin johnson might have ruined music for an entire generation fifteen (or so) years ago, but this time 'round, it's the digitization of jandek and jackson c. frank that's done did it. going with his heart rather than his record collection, darves shapes his songs from true force. that said, i should write that the track 'sea bird' has a slight sandpipers feel to it, a known favorite outta the kings' collection. . . am i going off on a tangent again? sorry 'bout that ...
. the kings' wordage is ripped from a place i consider strangely familiar, yet i can't place a finger on it. i've mulled the itchy feeling his lyrics give me time and time again and why they get me so good. the only parallel between the king and i (hal) that i could come upon was that i used to live in the same town that he lives in now; the lamest excuse anyone could ever come up with. i think i should just be content with the fact that the kid is blessed with a very universal tongue and hand.
his words act as cloak less, springy passages to inner visions that are both harrowing and hopeful. dig on the verbals on 'this ivory' and 'home' to see what i mean. the latter is a personal favorite that resonates new connotations with each listen. while the guitar simmers with confusing promise, the king lays out a load of potent lines, but there's one in there that sticks in my craw listen after listen. i don't know why, but when darves delivers the line ''i'm not fortunate, nor are you," he spins a skeleton key of calm and knowing in my psyche that hasn't been turned in quite some time. what can i say? the kid's got it.
alright, i'm done counting the ways i love the king. now it's time for you to start.
tony rettman
bed-stuy brooklyn september 2007 |
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