Mixtape.
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Makunouchi Bento/Red Slippers Room

Red Slippers Room

Red Slippers Room

Makunouchi Bento

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Tracks info

01 Makunouchi Bento - She Speaks in Tongues 01:06
02 Makunouchi Bento - Un circuit fermé 07:48
03 Makunouchi Bento - Fly Tape for Thoughts 04:42
04 Makunouchi Bento - Drowned in Swimé 29:59
30 minutes experimental act recorded for Stazione di Topolò's "ToBe Continued 2013" 24h music marathon (it was broadcasted live on the 24th of March 2013). It's an improvisation on 2 tracks from Swimé LP: "Cruise for a Corpse" and "How I Became a Lion Tamer".
Stazione di Topolò
05 Makunouchi Bento - A Boomerang Called Klimpt 02:28
06 Makunouchi Bento - Avebell Blues 02:16
07 Makunouchi Bento - Afrikaanse agtergrond 04:25
08 Makunouchi Bento - Mornin' Prairie Sun 04:16
09 Makunouchi Bento - Mornin' Prairie Dew 03:17
10 Makunouchi Bento - Dandelion Spell 03:22
11 Makunouchi Bento - End Credits Avec Fromage 05:38
Label: Self Released
Format: Digital
Release Date: 2013.01.25

This is an open playlist for our little experiments and soundscapes, tracks that don’t really count as songs, but are quite interesting. Check each song’s description – they all come with a story to read!

 

She Speaks in Tongues:

 

Short experimental track / sound design we’ve made exclusively for “Sâmbăta Sonoră” on the theme of eroticism. The event took place on the 13th of February in Bucharest, and the audience has voted this, along with 5 other tracks, as being the best.
Sâmbăta Sonoră.

 

[RO]
Se naşte erotism la atingerea om-maşină? Mai contează dacă partenerul actului sexual e om sau maşină? Fetişul pentru gadgeturi se poate transforma în dragoste reală? Mi-am imaginat o secvenţă de film porno într-un viitor apropiat în care o femeie robot nurlie e penetrată de parteneri umani şi sunetele agoniei amoroase.

 

[EN]
Can daily man-machine interaction ignite eroticism? Does it matter anymore if the sex partner is human or machine? Might the fetish for gadgets turn into real love? Imagine a porn movie scene in a near future, where a sex appealing female robot gets penetrated by several human partners, and the moans of a passionate technosexual being.

 

Un circuit fermé:

 

[RO]
În 1964, parcul de distracții “Parc des Champignons” era fără îndoială locul cel mai vizitat și mai zgomotos pe timp de weekend sau sărbători din orasul Forbach. Lumea iubea cu foc parcul, toate mașinăriile mecanice din el și toate gheretele cu bunătăți dulci sau sărate. Am putea spune că “Parc des Champignons” era o emblemă a voii bune și un loc de vis pentru cei din Forbach, oraș sărac și lipsit de alte distracții ale timpului. Până și trupele de circ sau camioanele cu piese de teatru populare itinerante își puneau scenele mici și chicioase în incinta “Parc des Champignons”. Dacă se cobora Isus sau, doamne ferește, marțienii, cu siguranță că alegeau “Parc des Champignons” ca loc de aterizare! (deși în Forbach, și Isus și marțienii curioși ar fi murit instantaneu de plictiseală, în momentul când puneau piciorul sau tentaculul pe pământ). Personajul care ne interesează pe noi e Michel-André “Le Croquemitaine” Lapoisse, un tânăr cu o statură impunătoare, flăcău tomnatic și bun catolic, singurul om desemnat de primărie și comunitate să se ocupe de montagne russe-ul parcului – și ce treabă strașnică mai făcea!
Michel-André nu avea familie, era o fire ursuză și retrasă, dar iubea montagne russe-ul ca pe copilul lui: îi spăla scaunele cu șampon cu aromă de levănțică în fiecare seară, îi turna cu mare știință ulei în măruntaiele mecanice: nici prea mult și nici prea puțin, suficient doar să tragă cele 6 vagonașe încă 2-3 zile fără zgomote ce puteau să sperie clienții. Montagne russe-ul era viața lui, dar, pe ascuns, toată lumea știa că Michel-André așteaptă un semn de la Dumnezeu, un semn care să-i schimbe viața monotonă și lipsită de căldura sânului familiei.
Așteptarea lui ia sfârșit într-o zi de vară, când Michel-André, orbit de furie și dogoarea soarelui, pedepsește 2 ștrengari din oraș. Cei doi urinaseră în joacă (toată lumea putea să confirme) într-unul din vagoanele montagne russe-ului. Michel-André i-a urechiat minute bune iar apoi i-a închis peste noapte în cămara de scule a parcului.
Peste 2 ani, cei doi puști, auzind întâmplător la biserică ca Michel-André așteaptă un semn de la bunul Dumnezeu, se hotărăsc să-i facă o farsă: îi lasă în baracă, la capul patului, un bilet cu următoarele: “Michel-André, îm-i ești dator 300 de suflete! Până nu l-e primesc – ciuciu mesaj de la mine pentru tine! Semnat: Bunul Dmnzeu”.
Michel-André citește îngrozit bilețelul, îl ia cât se poate de în serios, și începând din 1970, an în care orașul aproape că dispare pe fondul unei crize economice și “Parc des Champignons” e închis și lăsat în paragină, își pune planul în aplicare: deturnează înarmat autobuze de turiști din munții de lângă oraș și urcă oamenii stupefiați în montagne russe, fără gesturi brutale (ce nu face omul la amenințarea unei arme!) – îi plimbă apoi 2-3 zile până aceștia mor din motive naturale sau de spaimă. Din câte se știe, contorul a ajuns la 171 și Michel-André e încrezător că în câțiva ani, și cu sprijinul lui Dumnezeu, cele 300 de suflete vor fi livrate în perfectă stare și un mesaj divin o să-i fie lăsat încă o dată, la capul patului.
Sau cel putin așa spune legenda urbană…

 

[EN]
Back in 1964, the most popular place in the town of Forbach was undoubtedly the Fun Fair. The “Parc des Champignons” was always bustling during the weekends and holidays. People loved the park, with its huge obedient machines of joy and its little shops with salty and sweet delights. It was an exuberant spot, fully appreciated by the inhabitants of Forbach, a poor town lacking in modern entertainment. Even the itinerant circus and the traveling theatre would camp their little kitschy stages in there. If Jesus or, God forbid, the Martians, came to Earth, they would most definitely land in “Parc des Champignons” – though they would have all died of boredom in Forbach as soon as they would set their feet (or tentacles) on the ground. In this story, n person of exceptional interest is Michel-André “Le Croquemitaine” Lapoisse, a statuesque lonely character and a committed Catholic. He was the only person the Town Hall had assigned to look after the park’s crown jewel – the roller coaster. He fulfilled his assignment with the tender care of a robot mother watching after her only robot child.
Michel-André was a stranded vacuous ship in this world, but the roller coaster gave him comfort and purpose. Every evening he would delicately wash the chairs with lavender shampoo. Every few days he would oil the mechanical guts of the machine with great care: never too much or too little, but just enough to pull the little wagons in silence. The roller coaster was his public life, but most of his colleagues were aware of his only secret: Michel-André was constantly waiting for a sign from bon Dieu, a sign that could change his toneless and desolate existence.
Michel-André’s long wait ended one summer’s day when, blinded by fury and the scorching sun, he punished two mischievous boys he had caught boldly pissing in the seats of the roller coaster. He had witnesses! Michel-André had grabbed them by their ears and left them in the tool shed overnight to contemplate their sins in the stench.
Two years later, the two lil culprits overheard in Church that Michel-André was waiting for a sign from the Good Lord, and they saw the perfect opportunity for cold vengeance. They left a note at the end of his bed which said: “michel-andré u owe me 300 sols until i get them u wont here a thing from me. signed good lorde”.
Michel-André reads the note in horror, takes it very seriously and, starting from 1970 (the year in which the town almost disappeared because of the economic crisis and when the “Parc des Champignons” was closed and sent to oblivion), he puts his plan into action: he hijacks tourist buses with a gun in the nearby mountains and herds the terrified people into the rollercoaster. He doesn’t use force – who can argue with an armed man with a holy plan? – but he makes them ride the roller coaster for a few days until they lose their marbles and expire. As far as we know he’s got 171 so far. Michel-André is confident that in a few years, with God’s help, the 300 souls will be delivered in mint condition and he will receive another holy message at the end of his bed.
At least that’s what he told us…

 

Fly Tape for Thoughts:

I personally feel that a fly tape, far from being the sticky end, is an entrance to another world.
The warm tongue of another body representing another universe that welcomes you.
The astroport that launches you to another division of time.
The flickering of aparent stillness of my thougts.

 

Drowned in Swimé:

 

Hey Mighty River Chef!
Make a soup for me.

 

Add the freshest fish and greenest leaves,
add some past pasta and some dense mud of oblivion.
Boil it with my latest good vacation’s nostalgic sun,
and, in the end,
drown me as a secret ingredient,
because I’m stuffed with secrets.

 

Serve me as river dish,
Mighty River Chef!

 

A Boomerang Called Klimpt:

 

Soundtrack for a short scene of an obscure aussie-western imaginary movie from the ’70s. Two boomerang masters spin and throw their weapons until the end of the day.

 

Avebell Blues:

“Blues means what milk does to a baby.
Blues is what the spirit is to the minister.
We sing the blues because our hearts have been hurt,
our souls have been disturbed.”

(Alberta Hunter)

 

The “Avebell Blues” song is sort of post/rest/errata – Avebell EPs. It has a funny (?!) story: this weekend I started to work remixing smth. And suddenly I remembered that Gary Moore died recently.
So I wanted to make sort of obituary but not in the conventional “classic” blues style. That’s how this little song was born. I imagined the zombie me from Avebell – singing an obituary for Gary Moore (RIP) in a dark dark public Avebell Square. I made it abstract (on lyrics) and short because I felt that a long bla-bla obituary is quite a shame to preach.

(Felix Petrescu)

 

Afrikaanse agtergrond:

 

Something in you runs
on a burning roof with fine sand,
somewhere,
in Zimbabwe.
Someone in you plays
an intriguing instrument,
continuous drinking song.
Take the path of the forest
with black Pan,
with black Bacchus,
The source is near!

 

Mornin’ Prairie Sun:

 

“Evening and the flat land,
Rich and sombre and always silent;
The miles of fresh-plowed soil,
Heavy and black, full of strength and harshness;
The growing wheat, the growing weeds,
The toiling horses, the tired men;
The long empty roads,
Sullen fires of sunset, fading,
The eternal, unresponsive sky.
Against all this, Youth,
Flaming like the wild roses,
Singing like the larks over the plowed fields,
Flashing like a star out of the twilight;
Youth with its insupportable sweetness,
Its fierce necessity,
Its sharp desire,
Singing and singing,
Out of the lips of silence,
Out of the earthy dusk.”

 

(Willa Cather – Prairie Spring)

 

Mornin’ Prairie Dew:

 

“The world of dew
is the world of dew
and yet, and yet…”

 

(Kobayashi Issa)

 

Dandelion Spell:

 

“Many little flies also are to be found visiting the Dandelion to drink the lavishly-supplied nectar. By carefully watching, it has been ascertained that no less than ninety-three different kinds of insects are in the habit of frequenting it. The stigma grows up through the tube formed by the anthers, pushing the pollen before it, and insects smearing themselves with this pollen carry it to the stigmas of other flowers already expanded, thus insuring cross-fertilization. At the base of each flower-head is a ring of narrow, green bracts the involucre. Some of these stand up to support the florets, others hang down to form a barricade against such small insects as might crawl up the stem and injure the bloom without taking a share in its fertilization, as the winged insects do.”

 

(From Botanical.com)

 

End Credits Avec Fromage:

 

Every room ends somewhere. This room ends here.
Celebrating the felicitous retirement day, we share this slice of cheesecake with you, the benevolent visitor of this space.
See you in the next room, be so kind to join our next eardrum circle.
Now please move on…

 

Credits

 

All tracks written, produced, mixed and mastered by Felix Petrescu and Valentin Toma (Makunouchi Bento)

 

Artwork by Felix Petrescu (Makunouchi Bento)

Bonus songs artwork by Felix Petrescu (Makunouchi Bento)