Music To Drink Tea To - 011 - Softer

Music To Drink Tea To - 011 - Softer

From our pals at Softer Drink, comes this wonderful mix straight from the heart. 

The speed of water coming to boil over dead embers ~ ~ fisheye top to bottom. Riding the meniscus all the way to the bottom of the well. 1000 days of tea music, 1000 times with tea outside time. If this is infinity let it go on a little longer. Intended as a letter of affection, from one penal colony to another, whereon the sun never sets, nor ever rises. Victoria to Victoria, hemisphere to hemisphere. "The riviera sound was made for drinking like this...." Meeting and exceeding CANCON requirements, the bulk domestic content of resource for export. Sludged emotion from the wettest place on earth... whet your whistle, sister brother.


Gratitude to all artisans who've fed the bonfire that's kept the punishment of cold at a distance. DJs, producers, vocalists, and the dancers. For one I wouldn't have made it without this rhythm. This mix could have been 1000 hours, this mix again could be the same sequence of the same artists in a thousand permutations of standout work. Mood Hut, Pacific Rhythm; Skylight, Index, Deep Blue, Paradise. New Forms at Science World. China Cloud / / Luna Moth. Gulf Islands in unceded waters, all of us. I owe you everything, I'll try to pay you back, if all my currency's leaves. Cup of tea. Cup of tea.



It can be regarded as a kind of symphony, or in another way as a kind of opera--or even a horse opera. It is hot music, a poem, a song, a tragedy, a comedy, a farce, and so forth. It is superficial, profound, entertaining and boring, according to taste. It is a prophecy, a political warning, a cryptogram, a preposterous movie, and a writing on the wall. It can even be regarded as a sort of machine: it works too, believe me, as I have found out. - Malcolm Lowry to [his editor] Jonathan Cape, January 2 1946


The Consul walked on a little further, still unsteadily; he thought he had his bearings again, then stopped:





he read, half struck by some coincidence in this. Wild attraction. The huge looping-the-loop machine, empty, but going full blast over his head in this dead section of the fair, suggested some huge evil spirit, screaming in its lonely hell, its limbs writhing, smiting the air like flails of paddlewheels. Obscured by a tree, he hadn't seen it before. The machine stopped also ... [...] The wretched children had spotted him again; and his penalty for avoiding them was to be drawn inexorably, though with as much dignity as possible, into boarding the monster. [...] After a while, with violent bewildering convulsions, the thing started to go. The confession boxes, perched at the end of menacing steel cranks, zoomed upwards and heavily fell. [...] The Consul, like that poor fool who was bringing light to the world, was hung upside down over it, with only a scrap of woven wire between himself and death. There, above him, poised the world, with its people stretching down to him, about to fall off the road onto his head, or into the sky. 999. [...] Obliquely he was aware that he was without physical fear of death, as he would have been without fear at this moment of anything else that might sober him up; perhaps this had been his main idea. But he did not like it. [...] though it was symbolic, of what he could not conceive, but it was undoubtedly symbolic. Jesus. All at once, terribly, the confession boxes had begun to fall in reverse: Oh, the Consul said, oh; for the sensation of falling was now as if terribly behind him, unlike anything, beyond experience; certainly this recessive unwinding was not like the loop-the-looping in a plane, where the movement was quickly over, the only strange feeling one of increased weight; as a sailor he disapproved of that feeling too, but this--ah, my God! Everything was falling out of his pockets, was being wrested away from him, torn away, a fresh article at each whirling, sickening, plunging, retreating, unspeakable circuit, his notecase, pipe, keys, his dark glasses he had taken off, his small change he did not have time to imagine being pounced on by the children after all, he was being emptied out, returned empty, his stick, his passport-- [...] What did it matter? Let it go! There was a kind of fierce delight in this final acceptance. Let everything go! Everything particularly that provided means of ingress or egress, went bond for, gave meaning or character, or purpose or identity to that frightful bloody nightmare he was forced to carry around with him everywhere upon his back, that went by [his] name [...] 


At last the earth had stopped spinning with the motion of the Infernal Machine. The last house was still, the last tree rooted again. It was seven minutes past two by his watch. And he was stone cold sober. How horrible was the feeling.


- Under the Volcano, Malcolm Lowry 1947 pp 222-4



Destroyer - The Laziest River 

Hotspring - Obit for Sunshade

Alexi Baris - Eye Cast Mirror (feat. Emad Armoush on ney)

Ingleton Falls - Mind Yer Head

Sofie Birch - Hypnogogia

5AM - Loosing My Mind

Shabazz Palaces - Are You… Can You… Were You (Felt)

Nala Sinephro - Space 5

Shabason, Krgovich & Harris - Tuesday Afternoon

Huerco S. - Hear Me Out

Khotin - Heavyball

Pilgrims of the Mind - La Belle du Jardin

Evy Jane - Ohso (Max Ulis Remix)

D Tiffany - Green-T

Local Artist - Boys Cry

Chaos in the CBD - Green Dove

Lnrdcroy - If Sylvia Built a House

Anthony Naples - Devotion (SSL mix)

Andras - Harf Green

Pender Street Steppers - Our Time

Beautiful Swimmers - dream track

Toro y Moi - Magazine

Cadence Weapon - On Me (Loraine James Remix)

CFCF - Life is Perfecto

Cecile Believe - Times

Charli XCX - Visions

Corben - an eye, for i

The Other People Place (James Stinson) - Sunrays

ZDBT - Strange Peace Interlude x Gradient Colors ft. dreamcastmoe

TOPS - Destination

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