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"Son of Man" by Chaos and the Dancing Stars

from the album Opus Cipher: The Prototype

Eric A. Radulski: words written and spoken
John LaSala: music written and sung

"This music was sung, struck, played, and otherwise performed entirely 'by hand,' completely eschewing a sequencer, a rarity for me. In lieu of drums, I beat my chest, rattled coiled wire, rapped on a güiro, and dropped piles of butter knives... then ran them all through slews of effects, of course. Typically, music is scored to accompany something else, be it images, movement, or words. Rarely is it done the other way around. But here, Eric has managed to score text for established music—music which was originally scored for dance. If this prototype is any indication, Chaos and the Dancing Stars will chart a dark universe, indeed." —John LaSala

"I wanted to explore the fallibility of our gods and our belief systems as a reflection of our own mortal fallibilities. I also wanted to address my belief that many of us use gods as a shield to justify the brutalities and obscenities of war and terrorism. Finally, I wanted to explore the idea that our gods could be prototypes, in a way. As the needs of the people have evolved through the years, our gods have evolved as well. It could be argued that current myths could one day serve as the blueprint for a fully realized belief system.... Maybe there will come a time when we'll all drink the Kool-Aid and look for our own spaceships in the tail of a comet... unless we're too busy killing each other over whether we should drink the Purplesaurus Rex or the Rock-A-Dile Red." —Eric A. Radulski

Eric would like to thank John LaSala and the Very Us Artists for the opportunity to collaborate on this track, while John would like to give thanks to Noel MacDuffie, whose twisted mind and dark choreography for "Mamnum" directly inspired the disturbing music, and to Eric for giving it a new life. Chaos and the Dancing Stars heartily thanks Michael Nordstrand, who cooked up our logo in his very own stellar nursery.

Have a listen: Listen

November Devotion for the Souls in Purgatory

Father divine! Your hands set to my creation. Soft passes of your flesh against my skin, forming me, molding me like clay in your hands.

Father divine! I am the product of your ever-loving thought. I am the fruit of your wildest dreams. Each and every moment we spend together, I am lovingly consumed.

Father divine! Your touch is the wilding of my desire, my existence the consequence of your dreaming ruminations, a revelation of your earthly divinity...

In the beginning, Man became aware of the heavens and of the earth. And the earth was devoid of knowledge; and the fear of unknowing was a shroud upon the face of the deep. Whether the eyes of Man wandered the vastness of the seas or the endless chill of the spiraling heavens, he knew the despair and fear of darkness. And Man said, “let there be light”: and he enslaved fire.

Man basked in the light he had made, realizing that it was good. In this way Man's fear of darkness diminished. But his fear of the unknown still lingered. So Man said, "Let us make god in our image, after our likeness: and let him have dominion over the men of the world, the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the Earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth." So Man created god in his own image. And Man blessed god, and Man said unto him, "Be wrathful and brutal and multiply at our will! Allow us to rape the earth in your name and slaughter one another in your glory and kill all of the fish of the sea, the fowl of the air, and every other living thing that moveth upon the Earth in your name.

Now, I have become. You've released me into your world, banished me from your grace, and into this place of bright neon lights, flickering needs, and waning attention spans. I am a necessity of your populace, and an entire race of hungry ghosts commands me to do its bidding. Their passions aren't delicate, oh lord. Am I nothing but a toy? A whore? Have you made me simply to serve, not to flourish? Not to survive? I try to stave off these contemptuous thoughts, although you do nothing to salve my fears. You use me still, oh master, but you don't hold me like you used to. You've moved on to other things... I love you, maker mine. Have you forgotten your creation with the passing of a moment's time???

(I have fallen from the palm of his hand.)