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 good introduction to the good use of a crappy walkman and the results you get from recording over old commercial tapes.

In this epsidode Dai is back in Greece. The spirit of the old philosphers help him to get around. Crude sounds from the island mingle with prophecies. Is there life on Mars? There is life on Mars.

In Dai’s words

“I love the beach. The sea air. I’m descended from fish. I worship the fish god. In secret of course. Don’t give the game away. Even to other worshippers. We’d only eat each other. It’s not violence it’s scripture the holy word. Thou liketh thy brother thy sister well seasoned. Boiled egg on the side. Served in a big shoe. Without the shoe it’s just cannibalism. ”


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