Molloy and his bike

..

you can listen to all of my albums at Last.fm:
http://www.last.fm/music/Molloy+and+his+bike
OR, get the albums by clicking on the images below:
Hit the Fractal Road:
Cowboy Hades and Other Tales of the Uncanny:
Spiraltown Cartographers:
Uphill, Downhill:
THINK AWAY. Written by Ryonkt / Molloy and his bike
KING PARROT. Written by Victor Padilla / E. Padilla
OBLIVIOUS SKIES
There's no live word
As I stare
at the oblivious stars
does it stare back
stare back?
I climb the steeple
I climb the highest steeple
Waiting for
the next lightning bolt
smell of whip-crack ozone
it breaks against my own imagined coast.
Waiting for the next lightning bolt
as I
break
into oblivious seafoam.
ON THE ROAD TO A WHITE SQUALL. Written by Ian D. Hawgood / E. Padilla.
KINDER. Written by Kaltehand/Molloy and his bike.
CRICKETS TOOK MY LUNCH MONEY. Improvised by Piscis/Molloy.
AT THE WITCH HOUSE. Natalia Padilla played slide toy harp, ukulele-violin and did some backup singing. Satas played some violin and did some backup singing too. So it's their song as well as mine.
OPEN SEA. Co-produced/Co-arranged with Alejandro Morse.
THE DISTANCE BETWEEN A CHAIR AND A TABLE cannot be conquered.
THROUROOF PLAYS CAGEY BIKE. Like the title says, this is a re-working of Cagey Bike, from my Spiraltown Cartographers album, by the mighty throuRoof. thanks man.
PLUME. Percussions by the Drunken Mountaineers. Clarinet by David Hurtado.
HIKING. Written by Lily Blakowt / E. Padilla
CAMILLE CAME TO TOWN. Written by Vaka Lee / E. Padilla.
GLEN. Written by Eduardo Martín del Campo / E. Padilla.
RANDOM SUNDAY. There was a ping pong table, a dog, a glen, a murmuring waterfall, a windchime, and some cronies. Mario Corona played the sax.
INK STORMS OVER PRISMATIC RIVERS. What do you see in there? I see abyssal gardens and rivers of dark light climbing up into the sun. I see abandoned boxcars and derelict shacks, slowly bending out of their angular shapes. Sullen keepers of wordless mysteries.
OH SERPENS CAPUT! Serpens Caput is part of the fascinating and enigmatic Serpens constellation, which is so ambiguous in its shape that they had to separate it in two distinct identities. It is in fact, a splintered constellation... amazingly enough, there's a third constellation floating between its two hemispheres: Serpens Cauda, the tail, and Serpens Caput, the head.
EXILE SONG
And so I found myself in land
couldn’t help but being weighed down
I bowed my head and then I said: Man!
So this is how it feels
to be a has-been
to be in exile from
Birdland.
So I’ll take my business to the Sandman
And I will catch my zzz’s on a tin can.
I know I’ll never sense the full spectrum
I know my truest face is a Maelstrom.
And so I ask myself about the game plan
and the voice inside
it answers swiftly
you know damned well that there is none.
WHISTLE WHILE YOU CROAK. A sweet and rare marriage; a delta where serene, abysmal melancholy meets child-like mirth and joy. The Jacaranda tree is blooming now, in my city. The moon is delirious over the rooftops. The pallour of the world will never wane, for it has already passed, it is an eternal shadow caught in Time's amber film. No two blue skies are alike, for they all suggest different kingdoms. The blue sky above my city is not romantic at all, no, it is pale and aloof. Yet it is Open. It's kindness only visible for those who can listen to what's beneath and beyond Light's howling. I dedicate this song to all the stray dogs that come prowling down my streets at night, and to my haunted friends with their pained and brave little lives, pouring forth into Night, whistling. Whistle while you croak friends. The wind that dances through the Jacaranda branches, it is Death whistling a merry tune. Whistling is Death's final word of liberation see... the ultimate ghost of Time and Motion. I believe the world will not end with a boom but fade in an infinite whistle... the Desert thus revealed to be a singing mirror, sustaining eternal Phantasmagoria neither inside nor outside its resonant black box.
This is how you take pictures, you make them echo inside black boxes. This is a toy castle. I made it with my word-kit and some crayons. Visit it whenever you like, and feel free to play inside it. Take pictures of it if you want to, build your own toy castle. Just don't try to build on top of it, or fraction it and sell it, cause it will dissapear in an instant and never come back. And rightfully so.
For words are lesser than whistles.
Thank you :)
A FORKED ROAD IS ALSO A TUNNEL. Thanks to Edgar Medina a.k.a. Alejandro Morse for providing the ellicoidal synth line.
CAGEY BIKE. Loosely based on a lovely Cagey House track... funny thing about it is, Cagey House told me that he found that track to have a strong Molloy feel to it. Cross-pollinating aside, I do love Cagey House's otherworldly sense of colour, poetic-comedic and proudly unclassifiable.
SALEM VIEWED FROM AN ATTIC. Co-written with Neil Carlill. He provided the breathing meditative loop... I just rode it and played what I saw from his attic.
HOLA JANEK. Instantaneous composition, improvised over a 6 pack o' beer and a hawaiian tuning. Dedicated to J.C. Siegele.