The Giant Eyes

This page is dedicated to...
The Giant Eyes
There is no trace of them anywhere on the net except here(93/07/08-British Tribal Music 75) so tiz only right to catalog it as a piece of history. Crawlspace , Yutang , The Golgi Apparatus , Gnap/ Miss Jones , Bare Bones Corporation & Lumen Brother are the creations of ex- Giant Eyes members.
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Nothingness, annihilation, is a reality in it's own paradoxical sense. There is, indeed, no space without field; but there are conditions in which the 'field' may be lost. One's sense of being is entirely contingent upon, co-extensive with, and contained in such a field. And anything which produces 'fieldlessness' (or field defect) is certain to produce a corresponding nothingness. There is only one way to begin and that's at the beginning I guess.... Hi freaks, geeks and respective mutantes! Oktavia's the name, Oktavia S. Cist, the S. stands for swelling to be highly personal about it all, but I don't mind, I'm just a regular chummy sorta kid ya know? Well, anyway I am to be one of your guides through the various filth-ridden sewer-sucking back-alleys of life's darker side. Quite some task you may ponder but I am not without aid. Dear ol' Austin should be here soon and he's just full of wild and wonderfully weird tales of hickorie and debauchery. And of course! I almost forgot! Giant Eyes! That's why I'm here right? Sure, ok.....I guess I'd better get on with it then.
FROM THE SEWER TO THE STAGE/ WEIRDO HICKS & ROAD REFLECTIONS Our story begins in the gutter of all places. Not by choice though I can assure you. You see, the Giant Eyes were once poor teeny-weeny little eyes. Totally defenceless and at the full mercy of one such bitter and twisted surgeon of sick, who coldly, callously and without any display of the fact that he may actually possess some form of heart beneath his iron exterior; cut each individual defenceless and mildly foetal eye from it's safe and homely perch as a siamese twin appendage; embedded within the genital area's of the accompanying twins. A position where they were quite happy and occasionally people threw money at them which still brings a cheery wink when they remember back to their days of performing sewer freaks. This is where they ended up you see, they were flushed down a rather deeply staind lavatory by the aforementioned surgeon. Although without his rather deranged theories on genitalia decoration and his immediate intereaction upon discovery of this, we would not be here today telling you all about it! Sad but true. Victims of human science.
The now slightly larger eyes were sailing through their sewer performances. The resident sewer freaks took them under their wings or claws or stumps or whatever. They saw them alright. They were still unnamed and it wasn't until then paranoid sewer dweller Austin J. Hoegaarden happened to stumble and fall face first upon the ever growing eyes that they obtained any. Austin saw their sewer talents and was immediately spellbound at their wide range of high pitched squeals which they arranged spontaneously and with such hearty vigour that any meek dweller of sewer would be deeply moved. Austin cared for them and kept them clear. At a time shortly previous to Austin's newly found love, he was a love of mine. This is why he came running straight to me with his mutated companions. My initial reaction was sorrow for these....these things? I certainly didn't know what they were. I could vaguely make out the odd eyeball here and there but by now a considerable amount of flesh had formed from the loose cartilage that remained after they were ripped from their appendages and also masses of hair. Austin and I immediately set about fixing these poor critters up. We ran on instinct alone as we had no real idea of their demands due to a seemingly serious lackage in the mouth region on their part. Lots of hot water and strong brews of saliva tincture were all the tools we had but they seemed enough and my new visitors/ friends were soon all tucked up on the sofa cushions with eyelids in fully closed mode. I distinctly remember Austin turning to me as we watched the sleepy heads(?) ooze away into oblivion and whisper in my ear sweet nothingness, then casually drooled down the front of my left cheek, applying a wink of his eye for full-on Mr. fucking corny bastard gag but I sure fell for it. Which is a good thing too coz we made it our destiny to nurture our 'children' to a fine health and set them on their way with all the right faculties for the furure possibility of world domination. Only with our intense tender and loving care did we achieve this goal and arrive here today with a healthy throng of twisted nerve endings and gooey fleshlike matter. Austin had thought of some names but he forgot them soon after so we set about that as our first joyous task as parents. Austin already had an insight into their characteristics as performers in the sewer. This is what we decided upon over a few hot mugs of our favourite imported saliva variety: Nikel B. Noo is always hitting the sewer walls and laughing manically as the vibrations cause waves and upset the general flow of things. Looma de Flaffa began first by plucking ferociously at his rather extensive pubic growth ehich he could stretch round his body twice if pulled extremely taught; this is when he achieved his best performances and the purest of notes. He would also set alight to any pubic split-ends and entice the shadows into a colourful dance. Buckminster Fullerein was chief warbler in the original sewer-squeal-chorus and his notes ranged from the pit of hellish desire to the enuch angels that float so high like they live on helium gas. Buck also obtained a skill with the bow and achieved high status in the sewer with his depraved archery antics. Sebastian Treeclimber has a wonderful knack for animal manipulation. When he wails and screeches unlearned sewer dwellers duck down into the murky depths for salvation or run blindly into the labyrinthian darkness from fear of whatever a hideous giant beast is stirring and awakening out of sight at the end of the tunnel.
A rumour had been spread among the complex sewer canal communities that these strange, seemingly mute creatures could actually speak and pretty darn well too. The evidence only relies on the information of a haphazard rabble of sewer Geeks of a highly disreputable nature. Nevertheless the evidence is there. Here are a few samples of what was actually meant to have been heard way back when: "It almost feels like moss", was reported to have slithered from the sticky, slimey, red mound of fleshy-goo that gathered some six inches down from the extricated eyeball now affectionately known as the Looma de Flaffa. A chirpy young Sebastian was claimed to have uttered in a manner of cantankerousness- "I washed my face today and my lips started bleeding" Proof you may squeal, as to have lips shouldn't one surely have a mouth to match? Seems not as no visual evidence was proved or even mildly visible until a fully grown state of giant was achieved. I think I'll leave it upto you to decide whether these words were ever uttered and if they were, in which time zone? Perhaps we shall never really know for sure. That's where your hopefully, finely tuned imagination comes in. I know my little cuties would appreciate your indulgence... So indulge goddamnit! Feel free! From here we take a flying leap into a homely but somewhat chilly cellar. The now fully activated mutations took it upon their fine selves to convert this cellar into a swirling pit of extreme, highly charged energies, capable of catering to the everchanging atmosfears that they wished to work in. They toiled, troubled and twisted out of all proportion on consideration of art as life and the death of life that seeps under the doorways of every confirmation of human existence. Their reflection upon this so-called existence was to digest absolutely everything (a trait quite commonly high among previous sewer dwellers. That's a hellova lot of fluid to keep out of your orifices!), let it settle till the brink of defecation and spew it all forth at the last moment into an ectoplasmic form that writhes into any soul within reach. The result is stored in full Cellar-Tronix on "Tale sof Weirdo Hicks" (Part 1). Excerpts from the old days performing to the sewer geeks and any unsuspecting humanoid that happened to plunge through a mislaid manhole cover are carefully hidden but with a serious root around in your brains for a while. I'm sure it'll all become clear. At the same time, this experience is but a teeny insight into the Hick Zone. That is why we have stretched the Hicks into a trilogy. Read on.......
"SOMETIMES PEOPLE FIND THINGS GROWING IN THEIR EARS...AND THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT IT" is a regular Hick phrase and is carefully annointed as a possible insight to explanation as the title to "Tales..." (Part 2). I stress the keyword in that last sentence is 'possible'. At this point it's time to cue the main man himself. Yep, dear ol' Austin has just walked in and he's bursting at the seams with jubialnce at a chance to pass-on some of his expertly knitted facts. I give you.....Austin J. Hoegaarden! Reading from "Reflections of a Road": The accounts of his experiences on board the travelling Freak circus that, with the aid of a faithful old Willo-Bee-Wisp (the Mandrake addict), took to the long and windies of Euro-plains. "Ya know, it coulda bin red but it sure didn't taste that way. No, it wasn't red it was Roma. Wonderful crazeee Roma! We hit town in the early a.m.'s. Bombs shimmer and roar at the spindle of the sky shine delight. Partisan's united armed division of the masses send them reeling in fear. Shrouded by the flashing nights of a thousand marine corp. She's full of hatred. A government up in the sky walk the thin line. Dine out over chaos. Towering talons reach down from the clouds and rip at pure existence. Lost in the labyrinthine catacombs of hellish desire put down to rest forever on display for the wide-eyed minions to taste. Chew it up and spit it out on the pavement for all the world to see. The crippled crone stalks the shaded stone shadows. Leprosy abd peace are on the same plane. Radio fuck and the pure of soul desire. Let me out I want to come in. Let me out I'm covered in sin. Let me out I want to see".
"With your giant eyes you can see into the hearts and minds of all living things and I wanna tell yoo brothers and sisters, it ain't pretty!" Said Buckminster one haizey eve in Eindhoven's 'Effenaar'. And he meant it for surelies. I can tell yoo! Yes kiddies, it's your ol' flame Oktavia. Back in the hotseat, clutching my oneway ticket to the sewer and ripely ready to take over from dearest Austin. He finds re-experiencing very stressful and he tends to get rather excitable too. If yoo ask me, it's taken him from now since last June to come down from the whole trip. Let's be thankful that he dragged his partially swollen carcass here and shared with us a deeply moving excerpt. I'll be right back...
I dared to look in on Prairie Dog and Sophie as they got turned up inside. "Just Another Day in Paradise" muttered Sophie satisfied.....for now. A sight that will never leave my memory. Sleep well, dream fire. Daddy's face glowing orange in the light of the burning palace. Foam mattresses soaked in blood, sweat and semen stinking, melting. Crash of glass in the searing heat and the screams...Oh yes the screams. And his bellowing voice above it all the last words she ever heard ringing in her fear-deafened ears forevermore from that moment, screaming...Justice. There's dirt and there's Zundert my friends. (From 'Reflections of a Road') Pheweee! Thankyou Austin. I had to let him get that one off of his chest.
The following information was obtained from a giant eye named Noo. At leats I think it was him. Austin would spend his days in a daze slumped over his notepad somewhere within the charcoalled depths of the burnt out brothel. Frantically homing-in on the still present vibes of the previous inhabitors. "He's so low, he'll pick on any poor demented soul for information and ideas for his next project." Muttered a disillusioned Noo. They all felt left out of Austin's 'games'. A chance for to release their built up tensions was presented by one such charming character known as Patrick De Labie (Betty Ford Clinic) who invited Giant Eyes to unleash their searching souls to see in his 'Studio 195'; ingeniously concealed within the undergrowth nextdoor to the Brothel ruin. The result of this melding of energies and varying degrees of spontaneous combustion is the third and concluding segment to the 'Tales of Weirdo Hicks Trilogy'. A far cry away from the cellar, Giant Eyes have taken some giant steps and arrived at the door of 'Just Another Day in Paradise' or 'There's Dirt & There's Zundert'. The perfect example of what they did on stage in Holland and Belgium, skilfully mixed by De Labie who captures and at the same time adds to the overall eccentricities of sound. You can just taste the moss!
We thereby conclude the Hicks trilogy and also conclude an era of Giant Eyes. Upon return from their Eurotrek, Looma discovered information about a collapse in his old sewer home which had caused the release of numerous lethal energy vibrations. The result was a mutation so drastic that the Looma lost all his prized pubic possessions which were the vital part to his noise construction. Without them he was utterly powerless to perform. He moved back to his old sewer home to rebuild the very fabric of it's mortally wounded society. As a result of this the repercussions had drastic effects upon their dear little mutoid minds. During a ritual in memory of Looma, the invocated energies got out of hand and the very core of the 'Eye-Zone' was at stake and in dire need of repair. The only answer was to make yet one more sacrifice in order to be reborn at the other end of the sewer. The elements all pointed to Buck and he willingly and gallantly took the poise. A last request was allowed according to ancient sewer wisdom. Buck's choice was to be impaled on an electrical device that Sebastian had adapted in the laboratories of scientifically and critically slammed Dr. Hilary Polebender from the remains of something resembling an earthly object commonly known as 'Geeetar'. Buck was given absolute privacy to perform his final and ultimate antics. Locked in a room entitled 'Dis-Satisfaction & Pain' and left to his own devices. Buck was discovered two days later by an innocent passerby who was so shocked at the sight of the deeply impaled Buck that he took it upon himself to fill the huge gaping hole left by the burnt-out beast, who was by now reduced to a mere ash. He dreamed fire just one too many times. The action required by our passerby of seeming innocence was to consume the ashes of Buck. He at first tried eating the substance of soul but this proved an inaccurate choice as his furry tongue soon stuck firmly to the roof his mouth. Upon delicate ponderation he arrived at the relevance of his lungs and promptly set about the task of building himself a Buck cigarette. Upon consummation, our Mr. Innocently all of a sudden commenced in a series of emotional and physical mutations from which he was left as nothing more than a quivering mass of jelly-like material that just lie there shining like jism sparkling in the morning sun. Sebastian and Noo stepped into the putrid pile of flailing flesh and nauseously nasty nerve endings that grabbed weakly at the air. They became entwined as one seething beast abd immediately began to squeal in perfect harmony with each other. Ancient rebirth rites of the sewer wisdom were performed in peak of pitch. All glands did fiercely bulge and reach a state of absolute bulbous. A greta unwinking had come into force and once again the sweet soul saliva sucking seers were getting turned up inside, breaking out of the sewer, delving deeper and deeper into the infernal, eternal sewers of limbo. The sewers of our nightmares? The sewers of Giant Eyes reality.
Giant Eyes will be unleashing their renditions from the Sewer along with mammoth Hick-Cuts spanning the trilogy onto CD. Complete with manic mind munching myths and legends to tickle and tantalise your lobes into a state of constant euphoria! Keep 'em peeled!
Ok, it's been real good fun dredging up all this stuffing and hopelessly trying to make sense of it all. My name's Oktavia, but you already know that don't you sweeties? I will say Aurevoir as opposed to goodbye!
GRATITUDO IMMENSO MUCHO: Robbeee-Tonsil for extrema-mutante sewer depiction artwerks, Spasm, Countess Zoe and Wisp for visual documentation. Mutoid manifestations by Spasm , Pan-Dougal & Mr Blundle, Austin J Hoegaarden for his delectably disturbing delights of literary lubrication, Giant Eyes- Nikel B Noo & Mr Innosense Spillage for allowing us to indulge their secrets of soul. And of Sebastian Treeclimber and his manic menagerie of monstrous machineries that lie in wait to be awakened and to remain forever disturbed. Eternal sliva lurve to all who foresaw and felt like moss: Looma De Flaffa , Buckminster Fullerein , NooMoozik, Will-o-Bee & The Tribe of Mandragora , Capsule Laboratoire, Paradoxical-Hodger, Crohinga Well(Thee Psychedelic Magazine), Magic Mushroom Radio Show, Prof. Patrick de Labie Bsc., Jar-Knellee , Slimb , Prof. Hilary Polebender, John the Bus, Uncle Platters & the Hickorie Clause, Brian's Sadistic Groans and all them crazeee sewer dwelling baa-studs that shiver and shift so darn sweet it almost melts ya soul. To Weirdo Hicks everywhere!
COMING SOON!!! SEWER MUSIC+ GRAVE BABIES- SECRET GIANT EYES PROJECTS: THE MATING DANCE OF THE PRAIRIE CHICKEN + SEX-CULT FROM THE UNIVERSITYThis profile was edited by Nimbrod Nimbolinos with Thomas' Myspace Editor V3.2b