The debut Vensaire 12" Perdix pressed on Gold vinyl. With Digital Download code included.
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FINDING IT FOUND
Daedalus’ boat looses course and crashes onto a seemingly abandoned island. He is knocked unconscious and dreams of a child who offers his hand saying: In the smallest of the isles, is a house made of vines, its home to a woman with a weavable smile, who feeds you yourself, take this warning as help, search the sea. If you cant resist, take up molyroot and milk it of its juice, kiss her, try to kill her, swear her on your manhood, lay her down plant a kid in her crown, find yourself found. Daedalus awakes alone amidst the wreckage and wanderers into the forest, the dream fresh on his mind. As a thick fog settles he picks the molyroot and puts it in his pocket. The forest breaks abruptly into a large lawn with wild animals. Daedalus braces himself for a confrontation, but the beasts lead him to a mansion covered in vines. The door is ajar and a falcon holds the silhouette of a girl. Overcome by allure Daedalus wonders: Is this home? Remembering the warning of his dream, he takes the molyroot before eating the woman’s feast. Growing restless Daedalus asks her to point him in the direction of home. She reluctantly agrees, but warns him about the dangers en route. Daedalus hears a heavenly voice in the wind and sets off for it. He is shipwrecked on the way.
FINDING IT FOUND is about the artist’s disillusionment: after exploring the seas he comes to an island of deceptions, representing his inability to find his own style and focus. He starts to believe the folly that “everything has been done before.” That is, until he gets a glimpse of his Penelope (Odysseus’ faithful wife and muse), in the lyric “home.” That lyric, however, may only be the siren’s song… How can anyone know whether any promising avenue is a way home or a trap?
lyrics
finding it, finding it found,
a palace in the forest,
where wild beasts are tamed
and drowsed
i walk through the fog,
is the sun still around?
i am lost.
∆
finding it, finding it found,
it seems a homeland to some man,
but the name to me rings false,
and as i come upon the door
to a silhouette of a girl,
i’m undone
∆
is this Home?
where the winds of my sighs,
where the waves that bring me life,
where the markers of the night
∆
in the smallest of the isles,
is a house made of vines,
its home to a woman
with a weavable smile,
who feeds you yourself,
take this warning as help,
search the sea
∆
if you cant resist:
take up Molyroot
and milk it of its juice,
kiss her, try to kill her,
swear her on your manhood
lay her down
plant a kid in her crown,
Find Yourself Found
∆
is this Home?
now send me on my way,
songs of the sirens
or the monstrous strait
but point me home.
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