After being in the wastelands way too long, The Peeesseye temporarily transmanifested themselves onto the foothills of a wine drenched mountainside for a seasonal sound-farming initiative. The air was cleaner, easier to breathe and infinitely more capable of supporting the molecular vibrations caused by the group’s creeping creations. Time revolved around empty sockets and delirious meetings of thought and action. What ensued felt woolen, and Mysticum shutters a wooden box with a brain inside. It was like a skintight sponge island with anxiety drawn out in long tone distilled fragment drips. These unkempt convolutionists came out of unearthly celebrations after too much exposure to a wide variety of psychic forcefields. Inhale once a dreary thought colliding with dream shards and increase volume by doing the opposite in retaliation to itself. After pints of wild animal tears, everyone stops dead in their tracks and decides to succumb to the purity of intention. --- The Peeesseye, September 2007
