a butterfly-eaten horse head.

Hi. my name is Harry. I was born a musician and an artist. Everything else is meaningless for the most part. I started out recording tapes under the name the locust. I made three tapes as the Locust: tape ..1, ..2, and ..3. I got a new name after I found out that a successful band already had this name. I then made an album under the moniker Tapeworms entitled Communication. My next album I called myself Carrots. That was a self-titled album. I finally came up with a name that I've stuck with: a butterfly-eaten horse head. I have put out two official records under that moniker: Black Hair; Shaggy Eyes and ..so Far... i also have a number of "projects" that i have enjoyed with other very talented musicians. ZANE is now available, featuring myself (obviously) and my short-lived friend zane. i don't know his last name. i woke up one morning and he said he was in Wisconsin. he doesn't even know i've put this out but here it is! if you like branca and sonic youth minus kim gordon's hideous voice and thurston moore's dumb ass lyrics you'll surely love this CD My good friend OD, who makes great music but refuses to move his ass from the couch, and myself made a record called Divorce. Here is a review of it from soundsfromthepocket : A Butter-Fly Eaten Horse Head carves flood instrumentals of heavy psychedelic anti-bluesy blues wrought from an ugly misery glow. The music suggests a soul in a splintered state while pondering an old boarded up factory jutting on a muddy, molasses river bank. The 4 song cycle thematically takes one through the death grievances of love. The songs usually pace ghostly and mysteriously by only two relentless guitars. The strings melt and forge a ritual of cleansing. The electrical instrument sculpting is deceptively intense. Dislocation of the Weak opens with existential dread suggested by a doleful progression of notes. Intermingled sounds bring about light by leaving dark swallowing disruption, akin to leaving a water mark where a flood had reached. The Last Argument paces out space with imagined contours of waterfalls. In actuality, the argument in question is really the lingering aftereffects of a wrathful turmoil. The songs calm reflection betrays irony of anger and despairs clash. But Youre my Misery Cloud envelopes the listener with massive feedback sustain. This melts into a see saw clean guitar rhythm while alternating with dirty river fuzz tones. The song is much more of an anxious mood from the previous offerings. Insomnia ends the song cycle with a bubbling motif similar to the repetitive hellish sensation that insomnia is. This is not goddamn bullshit rock! The compositions unfurl subtle fury into dark ravines infused with twilights embers. //Matthew Proctor//