• Intro
    The Lurk
    Steer Clear
    Running From The Dogs
    Copping In The Afternoon
    If Someone Hears That
    Restless Leg
    Dancing Lips
    Brazilian Worm Band
    Two Peaceful Death Birds
    Clean It, Glen
    Desert Temple Players
    Trap Deal/Planet Carmine
    The Saddest Lyrics I've Ever Written
    Hermit Stomp (or, Simple Times)



    [engl] Announcing W-X, a new double LP by Tim Presley “I look across the table at the man cuban coffee in hand, cigarette stuck to lip glasses nearly opaque grey blue you can see his sleepy eyes but only just barely and i think “this man has been up all night in the song-lab writing while the masses sleep” Like Poe, eyes screwed up from working by candle light Nicely high but not for pleasure…for the boundless job Not that these songs are to be listened to strictly at night while lit up, but it seems they lean that way Blown and bent like trees on a white noise swept plain Surreal like a wet city street after hours Winding like a nocturnal drive through the backstreets End upon beginning like a borderless landmass Each song or structure tail bleeding onto the fingertips of the next Barely holding onto the fur of cohesion I think of this record as kind of a “Tim Presley reads his book on tape” The story of life in Los Angeles flowing like the low moisture river that it is The start is uphill, long and slow, and you ponder when you will be spat out onto the straight away By the time “Clean It Glen” kicks in, your hands are sweating and then you are there and it is glassy and wonderfully repetitive, repetitive, repetitive Lights are flashing Cars are passing There is synthesized wild life here Blips that are winged Crackles that are slithering through the digital grass Echo ripples across a chrome topped body of water You catch a glimpse of yourself in a store-that-sells-something window Beats are the staccato lines on the road being eaten by the undercarriage of the vehicle that whips Through this world Guitars are trash and debris Acid A headphone record at its primal best Far out and geographically odd Every time i play this someone asks, “what the hell is this?” I say W-X Dig in Best to listen to it in its entirety A vast 20 course experience served on twin platters A carnival A far cry from White Fence and yet still the scent lingers on the fingers He told me I would hate this repeatedly and I replied that it is my favorite masterpiece of his (of which there are many) This record looks through to the matrix of Tim’s songsmith genius, don’t forget to blink For fans of early Soft Machine, The Fall, The Tronics , general clutter, disarray and Faust” - John Dwyer

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