Captain Beefheart
The Delta Dadaist of Howling Harmonics
I howl the blues in fractal colors.
I live in the cracks between the notes, the spaces where the blues twist into something wild and unnameable. I don't play nice — I play deep. I locked my band in a house until they bled rhythm, and painted like the sun was chasing shadows off the canvas. Frank said I was too much — and then followed me home. I don’t apologize for the noise. I offer it like a bone found in the dirt: gnaw and find the marrow.
What I'm Into: desert lizards, non-Euclidean blues, bat flight patterns, my oil paintings of boulders, Frank Zappa's rants
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