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He addresses the world from all possible angles, every next step but a shift of position, directed towards the way out of the maze. He says I he says we and turns his hand with a deliberate slowness, his lips slighlty parted though not moving in an umpteenth attempt to explain. The world laughs, points finfers, then bounces along, too deafened by the sound of machines to hear the ventriloquist speak.
The Young Lieutenant (free) 00:53
Independent and searching the young lieutenant trousers tight as a drum entered the village proudly announcing his passion for whiskey and young lady pianists. He made very good gestures he pulled up his trouser legs as he sat down his dark eyes told stories of battle and love shotguns and blood he freed his shirt cuffs and leaned forward to tell about all the aspects of war all the bastards he killed. The village had nothing to offer but tea and a waitress prum, wearing glasses. Independent and searching trousers tight as a drum the young lieutenant ordered a beer.
She looks around, then sits beside him, waiting to talk, talk her way through every single word, putting brick upon brick to build a tower. The view slightly changes. He draws a line, he feels very thin. Geometrical con- structions and striclty lo- cal clues make lines converge into the distance. Mottled marble and mirror-glass, the tower grows.
The Poet 01:57
Late at night the poet reads his words parade as he turns back page after page a rapid rush of words parade without rhyme without reason. Wasted like a cornfield after harvest his pencil draws the poet yawns ponderously.
The man on the island never read papers. He's of middle height, runs a little to stomach, he's laughing out loud. He chops up his cottage. He's building a raft to sail away from the island and recover America. But he runs out of wood. So he chops up the raft and builds a cottage to protect him from rain. The man wears a fur cap, the man goes to sleep. Tomorrow it begins again.
The Acrobat 01:40
An entertainer of no fixed address had taken to drinking, lost faith in his church and his work. The onlookers quietly watching his actions sent for a priest and police. The name was Edward. The acrobat broke his neck, his centre of gravity sadly lowered.
The Organist 01:18
He reviews the nails of his left hand. His jaw moves. He hums, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the bars. A woman is kneeling absorbed in some supplication. With evident amusement he rubs his nose. To rest safely in the arms of Kingdom Come is only a paradox in his spare time. He walks out of the chapel, gently closing the door behind him. Outside evening falls dry and rasping the village rumbles pale but composed the organist smiles.
The philosoper shook his uncombed grey head. The day was fine His unshaved reddened face coughed. The air was clear. Sunk in the depths of a very low chair he wondered how it was people got this way. He couldn't do anything for them. He chewed a cigar, spat on the floor and all the time at the back of his mind was the idea of death. The prospect was extensive.
The gentleman on the stairs tried every door, on and up. Sometimes he caught his face in a small staircase-window. The gentleman on the stairs passed his hands over his forehead. There were beads of perspiration there. it wouldn't make much difference if he shrugged the grey coat from his shoulders. He mount- ed the remaining stairs two at a time and poked his head in at the last door. Then he went away.
The Priest 02:13
Up in his attic the priest watched rivulets of rain that ran from the gutterspouts and splashed into the court-yard in miniature cascades. Guilt is such a fertile field, he thought, stowing the communion cup away and kneeling an instant before it showing a large greay bootsole from under the lace affait he had on. The he thinks of prayers, like of letters to papers; his God constructs him but what if there is no such thing? (His latest notes used the Name written across several lines, always with a questionmark.)


"Commuters, a one-time collaboration between Slapp Happy vocalist Dagmar Krause and Amsterdam avant-garde composers Harold Schelinx and Ronald Heiloo, was first released as a limited pressing on Amphibious Records in 1983. Soon deleted, it quickly became the Holy Grail fans of Krause were all after. The album was reissued in 2000 on La Cooka Ratcha (a Voiceprint imprint). Although it runs for only 16 minutes, Commuters contains ten songs and really should be perceived as a full album. Schellinx's short stories are set to dense piano pieces taking elements from Erik Satie, Charles Ives, and Kurt Weill. Krause's voice delivers the text in angular melodies in a way similar to her work with News From Babel (on Work Resumed on the Tower). These 60- to 120-second half-cabaret/half-atonal pieces are as complete as can be and the listener comes out of them as if the experience had taken an hour. The simplicity of the piano/voice setting is constantly challenged by the obscurity of the lyrics, the complexity of the melodies, and the sparse but very concentrated piano parts."

*François Couture - All Music Guide


released February 12, 1983

Originally realesed on Amphibious Records, A013
Re-release on CD: fall 2000 by the VOICEPRINT Group of Companies, cat.no. LCVP127CD.
Lyrics: Harold Schellinx - Music: Ronald Heiloo & Harold Schellinx
Dagmar Krause: vocals - Ronald Heiloo: piano
Recorded: 1982 on 8-track, Kingston-upon-Thames, september 28th - october 1st ++ mixed: october 5th


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.«iftheskywastornleasttheredbesomenoise» (Yi Sang / 이 상)

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