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Sleepwalker

by Hourloupe

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  • Cassette + Digital Album

    Hand-numbered cassette tape. 25 copies available.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Sleepwalker via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 5 days

      $8 USD or more 

     

  • Cassette + Digital Album

    Limited edition (50 copies) Future Deserts cassette wrapped in sleeve with lyric cards + limited edition (25 copies) Sleepwalker cassette. The first two of a triptych of Hourloupe records dealing with time, the natural world, and spirituality.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Sleepwalker via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 5 days
    1 remaining

      $14 USD

     

  • 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

     

  • 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)

     

  • Micro Edition 10" Lathe-Cut Vinyl
    Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Limited edition of 15 copies, hand-numbered.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Sleepwalker via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Sold Out

1.
Sleepwalking 02:33
Shadow of your hand across my wrist’s Enough to turn me from that to this Is all it takes to alter my steps Leave me alone in my sleepwalking My feet are lead, my arms outstretched Fingers first is how I tread— I’m all touch— Leave me alone in my sleepwalking Except that I hear air crush As I enter into this room of wool And sense a transposition from heat to cool… warmth Up the fibers climbs, I press And it’s your chest I find My hands wander: where’s the heart? Leave me alone in my sleepwalking Then all in one rushing gasp: your breath yet Faint as spider arms or lash-fine antennae Of a wasp Leave me alone in my sleepwalking It’s both wrists you’ve got me by Now with a grip like a predator On spinal arcs of two limp mice And we rise Leave me alone in my sleepwalking And on those two split screens behind the lids One vision that was hidden from me exposes Itself in this black blinding-ness: It’s you…returned…as if you hadn’t left The cover upturned, right here next to me In this bed sleeping, where I sleep too Dreaming of walking out and meeting you, please Leave me alone
2.
Safe House 01:56
When peace arrives Smuggled here by a shadow I wonder who will be left in the house To open the door when the soft knock rattles the window And words are exchanged In tones so low No one could possibly know The way parents seem to a child In the room down below Language melted, the space between syllables wide and whiter than snow When peace arrives And there is no home And no windows to peer in On tiptoe And no curtains to see through to shadows And the shadow has gone And in the old barn On the edge of the lawn barely visible Another door is open And leads to a room so dark Its borders seem to pulse Peace will know it has arrived And that this is a house
3.
Fragment 1 02:09
4.
Gospel 02:23
The gospel of silence hangs in the air Waiting to be preached The priest with bandaged hands Pantomimes it And it gives itself to him fully Sculpted and pressed By the lateral pass and swept Exclamations of gauze The priest has been reading the book The book with pages of steel wool With its iron covers open Face down on his lap He has fallen asleep And passed his hand up and back Dreaming of lovers The gospel of silence curled In the corner of the room Where it was late and the fire knew it It watched the priest Moan and undulate And the streaked crimson Of his fingers mingle With white powder Of his ejaculate It went to him and offered itself Its teaches a lesson of earthly love The priest half heard And forgot And on Sunday With bandaged hands conveyed To a congregation Of somnambulists Shuffling over the graves Of unborn children Holding logs for the fire Of streaked red wood This silence
5.
King Sailor 01:50
In the vestibules of the crypts of New Orleans The spirits mill about Consulting the swirls of marble Like the scrolls Of petrified smartphones The soot of King Sailor enters their nostrils His bier of ultramarine And gold-green mind’s eyes of peacock fronds Was doused with gasoline And spun out a back-orange clouds Carrying news of springs And then they can breathe And the drum calls them back To dance in human skin The feeling of sinking the mass Of abdomens Between spread legs The eon-creating position Of squatting, then shelving in and pulling away Once I held the cradle of a pelvis Up to rain, says one As his eyes flutter shut Just as though this saying Were enough to stir the rhythm of the name of his beloved I recall the chilled lines of water Hugging the insides of my arms My thrilled skin And flooded the traffic circles of my chest And me a tiny sailor in a small boat drifting in and out The prow of my dory poking The black rooms of shadows cast from roots Dangling from the banks of so many ovals
6.
Fragment 2 02:10
7.
Lost Room 03:34
The emir had become preoccupied with birds Sparrows threading the morning air and the vista between The columns in the outside porches The shadows of buntings Undulating across colonnades Such that the room at the back of the Alhambra Decided it was time It had been for some while transfixed By the fragments of the singers And guitar strains drifting in From the gypsy caverns at night And so slowly, over seasons Worked its way free of the palace structure Hairline cracks in the marbles at first Then gaps into you which you could sink a finger, then two, then a fist While the emir watched the birds and walked in his sleep And the four lions pulling in the compass directions Held up the waters of all the earth Mythically in the basin on their backs Then by the light of the moon The room was suddenly, appallingly seen Halfway up the hill Perched somehow on the south slope And a messenger was about to enter the bedchamber of the emir With a warning whose wax seal had already been broken
8.
Peace buried the town face up The rose window of its cathedral on top Staring up into the earth Like a pulsing stone pupil The stained-glass shards dropped away Over time leaving caverns that became Shafts of wells Into which they fell The glasses returned to sand And the sand to its origins Of newborn rocks The rocks rolled backward on the waves And the sea filled With Protozoans Each bearing the witness of Joan Miro The fires of pre-Cambrian forges burned So that in the heart of the cathedral Was always the memory of flames And molten words Before they formed the gospel And ridges of the swirls of the cyclops Which blinked once or several times When it was shot Before its colors frosted over and grayed Long enough to see Peace’s face Like a moon just above the dirt
9.
Herd 02:18
The hunter asleep In the skull of Descartes Awakes from his bed of sand Light paints the cracks in the ceiling Of the fused bones in the pantheon And in one side of the dome Cool shadows lurk In which red marks Smeared with the juice of crushed currants Tell the story of a herd Of pigs, crushed shells The inside of which Are the glazed memories Of equations that construct Bi-valves, make a sound Like rattles under his feet And with one arm braced Against Descartes inner brow He urinates through The philosopher’s socket He yawns He has slept through The Information Age And without knowing it Survived the plague of fiction That contaminated the data And brought the world’s cities to ruin The first to go were the virtual ones Though curiously these left Physical traces: dents, imprints Crenellations not dissimilar To those his body, pressed into sand for eons, deposited Lava’s dirty orange river flowed in And his form was cast into an icon His work has too survived and he realizes now Seeing it separated by light years How little resemblance the image bears to anything that was
10.
Fragment 3 02:15
11.
A key is being passed around a garden party Covertly from hand to hand One by one In groups of twos The guest are disappearing To an upper room On the thickly carpeted stairs You can barely hear their steps In fact their feet never touch As with their toes dangling They spin upward Thumping the lips And banging on the landings The door opens The room is lit With locked hands Their arms swaying slowly The sisters sing Their voices drain And one bends down to whisper something Into the ear of the sleeping king
12.

about

Imagine a series of rooms.
Imagine a figure, permanently asleep.
Imagine him firing beams of light, walking through each.
Imagine his targets are:

--the inside of the skull of Descartes;
--the vestibules of the crypts of New Orleans;
--a mass in which the gospel is silence;
--a palace where one room disappears.

This is the world of Sleepwalker, the second release of the duo Hourloupe. If their debut, Future Deserts, was a journey through collapsed time, combining ancient sounds with our burning world, Sleepwalker is one through expanding space. In twenty-four minutes — eleven interlaced songs and texts — the listener looks through the eyes of a figure navigating a series of scenes: not so much to destroy monsters that lurk as to study them. Determine whether they are actually monsters or the reflections of things we long for and dread... when no one else is looking.

credits

released August 5, 2022

Frank Menchaca & Anar Badalov

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all rights reserved

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about

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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