The snap of twigs and huff and puff of young lungs stumbling down the winding island trail. A girl leans into the sea-spray, securing her clips against the breeze. Whispering, the water falls, concealing the quartz cave, they trace along the familiar place. They wander for hours, tip-toeing around nests full of eggs, ceasely flicking the specks of pollen floating in the air. Dashing through the Moon Gate, beyond the crystal clearing, to the turquoise fishing holes, to the foreboding fountains of old. Oleander shrubs shimmy/shake it, dishing bouquet high-fives to the uptight stalagmites, left hanging. Those stones aren’t down, too priggish, dismissive. The eucalyptus knows, and boos and hisses.
By the hole, this pool, a sudden fountain. Slurp, the gang ages. Sagging laughter and the comic abundance of crease. Giggle at the new found flubber jiggle. “Look you guys! Look how our skin can wiggle!” Rollicking and splashing in the basin. One boy tips his hat, dips his jaw, and spurts a squirt at chronology. His dentures slip, prehensile tongue flicking them against the clock’s face: sand in the hour glass laughs like a newborn granddad.
Noah Klein and Emily Reo are two of our favorite artists, and overall human beings. While the couple’s recording projects have co-existed for years this is actually the first time they’ve come together on a finished piece (mixed/mastered by Miles Coe). Soon they’ll embark on an extended return-to-the-east-coast tour. And friends are welcome to help host it: more details here.