noise videos

The new hit song by the Rodeo Trash Pines.

ruckus doesnt like loud music

I push my fingers into my eyes... It's the only thing that slowly stops the ache... But it's made of all the things I have to take... Jesus, it never ends, it works it's way inside... If the pain goes on... Aaaaaaaah! I have screamed until my veins collapsed I've waited last, my time's elapsed Now, All I do is live with so much fate I've wished for this, I've bitched at that I've left behind this little fact: You cannot kill what you did not create I've gotta say what I've gotta say And then I swear I'll go away But I can't promise you'll enjoy the noise I guess I'll save the best for last My future seems like on big past You'll live with me 'cause you left me no choice I push my fingers into my eyes It's the only thing that slowly stops the ache If the pain goes on, I'm not gonna make it! Pull me back together Or separate the skin from the bone Leave me all the Pieces, and then you can leave me alone Tell me the reality is better than dream But I found...

I wanted to see if what I saw was really what i thought I saw. So I filmed again and heard noises again and actually made some kind of contact with the ghost.

Cody making his "bird noises".

sound work for new instruments and old thoughts

This is a circuit bent sesame street toy. It is available on EBAY right now. It has two knobs that control the pitch, coarse and fine tune, an on/off switch for the pitch bend, a low voltage switch, and a 1/4" out.

This is the shorter video I mentioned. Again, shot on a janky digital camera, next to a speaker stack, with rowdy kids everywhere, this was around 3AM, still lively. Big reaction to the Crookers remix of Kid Cudi's "Day N Nite", then some hype action from Mayhem (1/3rd of Rrrump).

This video was uploaded for Professor Gillian Thomas's class - The Rise & Fall of the Printed Book. TO THE WHORE WHO TOOK MY POEMS: "some say we should keep personal remorse from the poem, stay abstract, and there is some reason in this, but jezus; twelve poems gone and I don't keep carbons and you have my paintings too, my best ones; it's stifling: are you trying to crush me out like the rest of them? why didn't you take my money? they usually do from the sleeping drunken pants sick in the corner. next time take my left arm or a fifty but not my poems; I'm not Shakespeare but sometime simply there won't be any more, abstract or otherwise; there'll always be money and whores and drunkards down to the last bomb, but as God said, crossing his legs, I see where I have made plenty of poets but not so very much poetry." For more Bukowski, visit http://www.bukowski.net Pardon the hiss. I couldn't find proper noise reduction software and had to use the built in...