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Future Deserts

by Hourloupe

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  • Cassette + Digital Album

    Limited edition (50 copies) cassette wrapped in sleeve with lyric cards tucked inside. Comes with 8" x 8" postcard.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Future Deserts via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    edition of 50 

      $8 USD or more 

     

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Limited edition of 15 copies, individually numbered. Comes with lyric cards and 8" x 8" postcard. Note: There's been a delay in manufacturing, but if you ordered vinyl, it should be shipping by mid-July 2022! Thanks for your patience.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Future Deserts via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    edition of 15  2 remaining

      $20 USD or more 

     

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $5 USD  or more

     

  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 4 Hourloupe releases available on Bandcamp and save 30%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Opera of the War, Three Nights in the Wawayanda, Sleepwalker, and Future Deserts. , and , .

    Purchasable with gift card

      $17.50 USD or more (30% OFF)

     

1.
A thousand goodbyes in your incendiary light The priest with his back to us Turns his head for the shot As an arm off-camera hands him a robe He exits into ordinary daylight without putting it on On lash-like rotors an amoeba rolls up It seems to bounce on an undulating strand of air It hovers like a cursor A thousand goodbyes in your incendiary light The priest says, feeling his skin burn Across the patio at the edge of the pool Sits Jesus. A reclining thief with his head In Jesus’s lap and dangling one leg in magma His hair stroked, gazes up into immaculate blue The amoeba cycles through shades Each more pyrogenic that the last A mini-goodbye in you, he says A cough at my shoulder: it’s the priest I sidle over making room in the pew Across his naked body ovals of pilot lights anchored Not in time to his movements He stands, they lift; he sits, they settle On the altar are synchronized gestures Table umbrellas blossom in the sun Folds in the baptist’s white tunic undone As he hurries down the scalloped steps It fans out in a ring around his head And he rushes into the water and sinks A thousand goodbyes he says As by the temples he pulls you under
2.
#Relics 02:10
I was buried With 5,000 strings of beads And a belt Of white-furred arctic fox teeth Somebody loved me My nostrils filled With crushed fat And rosemary chewed Then sewn in my pocket The funk of the afterlife Lodged in my armpits As you drew eyes In your high school art class Beneath my cloak my penis Glistens with resin In the corner of my hips My body markings Are mandalas Of the motherboards of heaven Your grave is filled with used condoms At the nurse’s station A room plan for each patient Maps to a set of vital monitors Heart rate, bp, 02 sat You’ve pulled off your leads But no alarm goes off There’s no one in attendance You’re free now to go to spirit class We’ll meet somewhere In the industrial revolution’s early stages Our instructor just back from an expedition Surrounded by specimens in glass cases Will begin his lecture On burial masks You text my stone tablet Glyphs appear in my chat Here’s a picture of me In just a knit cap As you can see Still stiff from my nap Here’s a heliograph It shows A scene of a pleasant day outdoors from my window
3.
Anatolia 02:33
The toddler physicist reaches into his diaper His fecal equation describes Certain prismatic properties of time When it dries he shines a toy flashlight at the wall Color bars weave demarcations of which he has no grasp at all Future. Past. Now. When he presses the key on a toy piano As he does from time to time He intuits that in this note a previous note Is implied, as is a next His brow knitted, he bounces in his bouncy swing Working out how this should be represented Through the pool of milk dribbled from the nipple of his bottle He drives a mini-truck Dual sets of curves portray how the Neolithic past Aligns with future deserts in Anatolia He is in the ancient city He pulls a wheeled duck on a thread That quacks and flaps its flippers With each turn of its circular feet There are no streets The citizens had to scramble from their apartments On ladders And walk across their neighbors’ roofs to exit He knows that at one time The inhabitants burned their dead Just below the floors where they lived He’s in the structure now, floating in space He is naked on his belly lying on a pelt Protruding from the wall in the photo is a set of bronze horns
4.
5.
Thank god for little mysteries Shouts the sailor in the crow’s nest On the immobile ship in a marble sea As a beast once called Leviathan Exposes his belly to the petrified crew His penis the size of two Oars laid end to end Is erect and a female whose name is withdrawn Rubs herself along his spine The sine wave that best describes the sound that happens next Begins with a pinch An opening just enough for air passing through to whistle Then a widening curve with a great bellowing reverb that fizzles The ocean billows with the cloud of his cum Restructured by a wave as a protozoan mass, Then as petroleum released on the surface Amoebic rainbows and paisley pyroclasts The lookout’s words thud Like molten crystals on the deck The first shards of the iceberg That slices the ship’s stone viscera From which flows Neolithic ash
6.
Firesetters 02:09
Books log on to the pyre The books consume the fire In reds and blues The fire tattoos The covers The fire setters hover A child’s face In an air balloon Is drawn up from the center And rises to the future fire the books consume The books are flowers Of orange and gold They rob the fire of color I look at you At six Sixteen Thirty-six years old What had I meant to do you wonder Dunes and aloes strewn across your threshold It’s the fire the books consume Wood and paper Coal and kerosene The flames have scraped the pages clean But the books ate the flames On what burns and what remains It seemed as if we’d drawn a blank So the fire setters made a heap Leaned their chins upon their pikes And standing in a circle dreamed They hunted down the books at night But the books were more clever And at each step leaped From the fire setters’ feet The books consume the fire Another story won’t be told To put you back to sleep The pages now are only light If my fingers reach Their surfaces I find No sentences could I read I am blind Will you read to me Of light and heat So hot it burned my eyes? The books consumed the fire tonight
7.
Red Omaha 03:27
We are on a reed raft headed for the falls Or maybe just the rapids Or maybe the thousand drooling bullet holes In the levee wall One fine morn in 550 BC Pythagoras passed by a forge Heard five hammers ringing on the anvil A sound he loved except for one thing That ruined the song One hammer among The two plus three was off One hammer was wrong The firefighters are in reflective pelts Ray gun spears in their utility belts Gone by the light of day Gone to hunt the levee Gonna pierce its belly till it sprays Water on the fire Water on the fire of the plain The sound makes Pythagoras want to forget It jabs like a protractor edge in his pocket It follows harmony like a predator Downloading sound files for quality time later The fire on the plains has spread The firefighters are backed to the caverns One traces his hand with a dollop of red ochre One scrapes shards for bronze age poker Omaha High Chicago Follow the Queen Pythagoras can forget what he’s seen But not what he’s heard And here we are on the plains In a boat of reeds Hunting the flood As the giant we call Levee With spears in his gut Relents and the water comes To the firefighters waiting And sweeps the hands from their hands But leaves the hand in the painting
8.

about

Greek harps, woozy synths, intimate pianos and jolts of noise form the sonic landscape of Future Deserts, the debut release of the duo Hourloupe. Eight arrangements of voice and sound guide the listener on a journey in which time is cut up and remixed. There is texting to stone tablets. An ancient mummy revives in a COVID-19 ward. Jesus appears poolside at a resort. A toddler physicist wanders a Bronze Age settlement trying to define where we are, where we were and what the future looks like. Meanwhile the world burns, floods and transforms from one flickering instant to the next.

credits

released May 20, 2022

Hourloupe is Frank Menchaca & Anar Badalov
Mastered by Yoz at Jamor Studio
Artwork and package by Margarita Encomienda
Postcard, "Anatolia," by Frank Menchaca

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Hourloupe

Hourloupe: “I associate it, by assonance, to ‘hurler’ (to roar), to ‘huleler’ (to hoot), to ‘loup’ (wolf).”
—Jean Dubuffet

Hourloupe is a collaboration between writer, musician, and artist Frank Menchaca and Anar Badalov.
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