Get all 21 Luna Moth releases available on Bandcamp and save 50%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Wavelength / L.S.D. (The Pretty Things), Sirena, Who's Gonna Love You/When California Caught on Fire (Single), Bummer Love / Futures (Single), (Don't Stop) the Moonlight (Single), Trees Casting Shadows EP, El Sol, The Serpent Stone, and 13 more.
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Turn the light off
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2. |
Valeria, Valencia
04:46
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Valeria winds twine with honeysuckle vines to sew upon her shoulders wings of dragonflies. The centipedes sing lullabyes beneath the blue beetroot moonlight.
Valeria dangles from ancient mango trees conducting katydid/cicada symphonies with oriole agility among vespertine scenery. And she says.. " "
Valeria descends from windswept mountain pines upon the wings of 50 million hypnotized ruby throated hummingbirds, July junebugs, and June mayflies, and she says..."
Valeria, Valencia, I will grow a beard for thee. If I were a continent, I'd drift towards your dirty feet.
The riverman straps snapping turtles to his spine in misty estuaries where tarantulas dance at night and flourescent green ferns unfurl from follicles of Greek playwrights.
Valeria, Valencia, you smile like a sunlight stream. If I were a honeybee, I'd elect you to be my queen.
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3. |
Some Kind of Nightbird
05:24
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Sugarspider, suddenly you seem far to mythological for me. There's some kind of nightbird just outside bibbling about the starlight in your teeth. Honeyspider, let's hit the highway. San Francisco's giving me the shakes.
There's some kind of seabird in the sky
Soaring on the sea breeze of your sighs
Scavenging the inlets of your skin
Skimming the high tide inside your eyes
Blood-tongued dusk it comes to lick the dust of the horizon from its plate. Lark-eyed twilight arrives to bribe declining daylight behind violet shades.
Fawn blonde dawn comes along to softly shock the sleeping songbirds all awake. Hey baby, the way you bend that backbone, I think you would make a great invertebrate.
I wanna love you right
we can dance all night in the firefly glow
I wanna be your guy
we can dance all night in the firefly glow
Oh I wanna love you right,
gonna blow your mind in the firefly glow
I wanna be your guy
we can dance all night in the firefly glow
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4. |
Old Man Oak Tree
02:23
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"The longer that you leave it, the harder it is to clean," That's what my mama said to me. "Do it while there's still time and you won't regret a thing. Later on you'll be glad that you did. The afternoon's still young to hunt for bugs and beetles. Don't go too far down Mimosa Lane. Go and seize the day but don't forget to clean your plate, or them mashed potatoes gonna turn to stone".
"Don't leave tracks on this earth," Old Man Miller said to me. "Leave it like you never were alive. If you listen you can hear the Choctaws in the trees. Listen to their wisdom and you'll see." Summer's come and gone, the frogs are hibernating. Autumn's come to dignify the oak trees. Let's go down to Pawpaw's pond and dangle our feet. We can throw some dog food to the catfish.
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5. |
My Chum Clumsy
06:09
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Hey Clumsy, you have the beard of a king.
You tell an epic story.
You make a nice cup of tea, chum.
Hey Clumsy, remember when we were young?
We'd slam dance to Pantera.
Remember California?
That highway boiled our blood, chum.
Hey Clumsy, this song is for you buddy.
I love you, can't you see?
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6. |
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Pinecone cheekbones chiseled from limestone, whose ice slopes descend into silence of wise old weeping willows, withered, hollow, bent down with disease that will soon turn them yellow.
Roly poly, strolling slowly, the centuries swell in your belly like berries. Holy oak tree, smoldering stoically, the smoke from your canopy fills my lungs with centipedes.
While walking down the coastline of the green flourescent sea, I met Grandmother Spider there, and this is what she said to me: "Weave your own folklore and weep the length of shore. Leap along beyond your sphere of spores." Lilacs for snoulder blades and lichen for toes. My finger vines wrap round your lily bones.
Sparrow, swallow, vireo, oriole, your birdsongs descend from the divine throne of Juno.
Federico, Pablo, Stremlow, your words turn vertiginous blood into rooibos.
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7. |
Lao Tzu's Blues
03:35
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Well I don't need no science or statistics
or monosyllabic philosophies
I don't need no snakeskin politician
I just need my periodic subatomic reverie.
My daily transcendental metaphysical epiphany.
Well I don't need no strategic logistics
or pseudo shamanistic circus freaks
I don't need no pigskin at my picnic.
I just need a mysterious Mississippi melody
A mellow Maya mariacha mama and a mango tree.
Wu Wei, Lao Tzu
Well I don't need no masochistic mystics
or the swinging fists of imperialistic economies
I don't need no polyrhythmic cynics
I just need the prehistoric soil underneath my feet
A sacred summer day beside the garden and a cup of tea.
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8. |
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The feathered serpent spirals slowly through the sky and cosmologically collides with the kaleidoscopic colors of the mind through which the universe flows freely reflected from a strand of spittle on a madman's chin as he recites the Tao Te Ching in Mandarin to a flock of Great Blue Herons.
Me and Babaji went hitchhiking down Hummingbird Highway with glowworms in our bones. She said, "I wish I was an old blind black man in 1923 playing a guitar made of stone". I said, "I don't need no obsequious archaeology to teach me how to stomp and moan". She said, "I think this highway's getting too hot for my feet," stuck her thumb in the sky and she was gone.
I once knew a bearded and bespectacled beatnik who spoke only in Iambic Pentameter. He said, "My man, think of this lifetime as a novel, yourself a secondary character. There are no plotlines or protagonists, just a big mad static screen illusion".
My old man's old man's old man's old man's old man's old man was a prisoner of the king and the king was a prisoner to his kingdom, and the kingdom was a prisoner of history. So my old man's old man's old man's old man'd old man's old man's old man said to the king, "you can break this chain of continuity as soon as you realize that time moves in a spiral, not a line".
I know a woman with a tattoo of a haiku. She's got the IQ of a mystic. She brews oolong on the new moon in a ring of mushrooms, and she's a guru of linguistics. I ask her, "What's the meaning of the universe?" And she says, "Fiddlesticks".
The city lights scatter like dust spores on the breeze and float through the night sky hypnotically. Some rise to mingle with the infinity of stars. Some settle on the quiet sea. The city now illuminated only by moonlight, and everybody's dancing in slow motion.
A static bird in an electric tree sings psychedelic melodies while La Malinche weaves a blanket from a blind man's beard floating downstream on a mu[stard seed and Brother Junebug writes the last line of his prophecy: "The prehistoric mind of humankind will not be limited by these simplistic sensibilities".
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9. |
Ghost Dance
09:29
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Wovoka
Wakanda
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10. |
Bird, No Bird
07:02
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one bird
two bird
three bird
four bird
five bird
six bird
seven bird
eight bird
nine bird
ten bird
eleven bird
twelve bird
thirteen bird
fourteen bird
fifteen bird
zero bird
Bird, no bird
un ave
dos ave
tres ave
cuatro ave
cinco ave
seis ave
siete ave
ocho ave
nueve ave
diez ave
once ave
doce ave
trece ave
catorce ave
quince ave
cero ave
Bird, no bird
un oiseau
deux oiseau
trois oiseau
quatre oiseau
cinq oiseau
six oiseau
sept oiseau
huit oiseau
neuf oiseau
dix oiseau
onze oiseau
deuze oiseau
treize oiseau
quatorze oiseau
quinze oiseau
zéro oiseau
Bird, no bird
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