Category Archives: Dai Coelacanth

Dai Coelacanth – RANDOM SEWAGE FROM A STRANGERS WIFE / YOU’RE A WIG, Mr MALIGNANT

Dai Coelacanth arrived a year ago. He had been on a holiday in Greece. It started then. Thinking while listening. Something happened. A man who was there when Mr. Sony sent his walkman to earth. They fell on every shop and in every home like children’s balloons who had gone the reverse way. He still has a walkman. Other people have a smart phone. Both walk the streets and talk freely into a microphone. Both transmit messages. Dai makes cassette walkman art. And I wonder if he is the only…

Dai Coelacanth – Love Station Yaba

Dare to listen. Dai to listen. Scraps, magnetic tape filth, hoarse voices, 21st century leaks, brutalist tapes, concrete footprints, yesterday’s news. A huge new collage, harsh sound poem by Dai Coelacanth. Your speakers never sounded so true to life. in Dai’s words “There’s something I forgot to tell you. It’s about a memory. The fair was in town and I was going to go with a neighbour … but she died in a horrific accident. Down by the river where the construction work is going on. New buildings for new…

Dai Coelacanth – BEETLE-LIKE CREATURES IN A SMALL SPACECRAFT / SHAPE-SHIFTERS WORK IN TELEVISION

Any student at an advanced academy for music and assorted experimental sonic behaviour should be given a cassette walkman with an inbuilt microphone. Not to play all the sweet cassettes that grow from the big rose of audio tapes. It would serve as a recording tool. It would open new perspectives; it would open the ears to the very far end of lo-fi recordings. The recordings could reveal secrets of the mystic and the obvious and how these two worlds can meet. The works of Dai Coelacanth could be a…

Dai Coelacanth – Missing Pagan Satellite Found in Dump

I hope Dai Coelacanth is here to stay with us. He started with accidental travel reports from holidays in Greece and Wales. The sound was raw, brutal, and somewhere hidden in the mesmerising collection of sounds, there was a sense of strangeness combined with the ordinary, that is so typical of foreign places. DC now continues to send in reports from his homeland. Is he a voice artist? I hope not. Does he scare little children? By no means. Does he use material that other people throw away? What a…

Dai Coelacanth – Drunk Skulls in Slime/Strange Strange Love

Tiny sleepy creature under my shoe stick to it and travel with me while I walk to the ruin of the cathedral. Tiny slimy sleepy creature eat a hole eat part of my sock it is your blanket. Gangreen at home an old radio transmits world war news the surgeon refuses to die. The magazine is soaked An ink tattoo on the wet t-shirt Carry the headlines on your ribs endless. Collage – voices – announcements – damaged tape – street poetry – England – Dai Coelacanth This is what…

Dai Coelacanth – A French Corpse is a delicacy on Mars

A knock on the door. At this hour. Who could that be. Full moon peeks in through the attic window. The plant recites Kierkegaard. Red light ceiling. A muted comedian. More insistent knocking on the door. Get up from the chair. The bottle falls down. Shock-relief: It’s empty. Ear to the door. Someone goes down the stairs, fast. An empty milk carton on the doormat. Apparently empty. A cassette tape wrapped in a piece of paper. It’s a letter. Dai Coelacanth is back from somewhere. But from where? And who…

Dai Coelacanth – Fishing for Crab in an Eerie Coffin

Dai Coelacanth is a person with a cassette walkman and a voice. He has been to Greece. He has been to Wales. That’s all we know. Fishing for Crab in an Eerie Coffin is an improvised account of his visit to Wales. Think collage, think sound poetry, think why does he talk with a funny voice, or, don’t think,  just listen and clean a fish. In his words: Need to get out. Put my feet to work. Whip them into action. Do as I say. I’m the Colonel. How strange. Take a…