Music > "Shine in Reverse"
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recorded in 2004/05
CD released in 2005 - 27 songs - raw - acoustic - the beginning of the end - tracks recorded live with acoustic guitar, vocals, sometimes harmonica
"Shine in Reverse" song titles:
Disc One: 1. we're anonymous 2. do Anarchy 3. fortune 2005 (aka Personal Terrorist) 4. torn apart 5. it sure is another day 6. Love abides 7. shimeleski funtime 8. before I 9. it's ridiculous 10. hard at work at nothing 11. bang it 12. frog 13. all hail - Disc Zero: 1. at least leave a note 2. ole ole ole hey hey hey 3. under the underground 4. julie was 5. tidal wave 6. not drunk enough 7. something is missing 8. change and change... 9. sing or get out 10. i'm just sayin' 11. she was a he 12. god awful 13. here's to our digital decay 14. If this is high civilization
free mp3 song downloads from Shine in Reverse:
torn apart.mp3 | we're anonymous.mp3 | do Anarchy.mp3 | frog.mp3 | Love Abides.mp3 | if this is high civilization now.mp3 | just sayin.mp3 | Ole Ole Ole Hey Hey Hey.mp3 | god awful.mp3 | I'm not drunk enough.mp3 | at least leave a note.mp3
(To download my songs to your computer - right-click on the link and choose "save link as" from the menu - on the mac you would control-click on the link.)
Liner notes for "Shine in Reverse" by Hap Mansfield
You are always in the engine room of the universe. You work there. You sleep there. You eat and make love and shit and piss there. You get angry there. You find happiness there. If the universe was a shopping mall and you were looking for the cookie pizza/cinnamon roll/kettle-cooked fudge/freeze dried ice cream/candle place/martini bar and you couldn't find it so you went looking for one of those Lucite-encased mall maps to tell you how to get there, you'd see the Engine Room on the map with a little arrow pointing to it saying YOU ARE HERE. This is because everywhere you are is the engine room of the universe. The map would always tell you the same thing: YOU ARE HERE. Because you are always in the engine room of the universe.
Let's say you are listening to this CD and you are thinking, what is this? Is this guy crazy? What the hell kind of music is this anyway? Michael Mcdaeth must be the mayor of Crazy Town, you say to yourself. Maybe you say it out loud. You can if you want, we're not stopping you. You may be looking at the song titles and thinking, who the hell does this guy think he is, The Minutemen? Donald Wilson? (Of course, this would be contingent on whether you knew who Donald Wilson was but if you do know, you might be thinking it.) You don't know how long you can take this howling and that caterwauling and the incessant pounding on the strings and what the hell. Also, at this juncture you might even be thinking, what kind of lousy liner notes are these? Isn't Derrida dead?
They found green glass on the moon, did you know that? Also, there are some astronomers at Princeton who claim that all potential life flies around the universe on rocks. Scientists have found life existing in some form or another in volcanoes and in the deepest coldest ices of the Antarctic. You think you're special? Well, who says you're not, bub?
Perhaps now you are writing off Michael as one of those musical theory types. Maybe it's time for a sandwich or a beer. Maybe your mother's calling you. Maybe you have to be somewhere (which is, as I've already pointed out, pretty difficult for you because…do I have to say it? Fine. You are always in the Engine Room of the universe.) Ah, perhaps the music is finally sinking into you. Maybe you dig it. It could happen. It's bewilderingly refreshing, this music. MM is a solid sender. Of course, your engine room may not be able to handle the load. It's okay. It's a big universe.
Are you familiar with Heisenberg's uncertainty principle? I'm not. We've met but I'm not certain our relationship could be termed as familiar. This CD could be the musical equivalent of Heisenberg's uncertainty principle. Or maybe it's Glenn Gould playing the upside down sheet music for Blood On The Tracks on a guitar made out of auto parts. It could be the soundtrack for a knife fight on the moon. That could account for the green glass. Make up your own story, I'm tired. (Okay, I'll get you started; maybe the green glass was from a broken beer bottle. Maybe Brian Eno was there. Your turn. You make up a story. I'll wait…..)
Finished? There's nobody like Michael Mcdaeth anywhere in the universe. This is his rock. You gettin' the hemi-semi-demi quavers? You rolling with the sarcastic laughter, frustrated tears, smoke-filled mystery? YOU ARE HERE; you dig?
Just because a few dozen people have passed through Michael while he sings doesn't mean he's channeling the universe. Oh, wait. That's exactly what it does mean.
Okay, the frame is broken on this picture. I'd be an idiot not to mention it. If form follows function then it's up to you to figure out why anybody listens to anything but Bach. Einstein liked Mozart. Just sayin'.
Michael made this with and for the universe. Which, now that I think on it, is you, pal. You were meant to take this personally. How else is there?