The Inn
Sorrel
Now See-Thru
Material
Care-Churning Stone
Table in the Circle
Handsome Man
Spread Over This World
Generative Hammer
The Overlook
Winter God Light

33 minutes

David Bernabo
production, engineering, and mixing
all instruments: guitars, bass, drums, percussion, vocals
album design

 

About the record
This record began as a set of rules. 

I recorded all of the drums first - three hours of drums.

Then I limited the instrumentation to guitars. My bass guitar pickup is still not working, and I haven’t taken it to the shop for repairs. For bass, I used the two fretless bass strings on my custom-made 16-string double neck guitar, built by Jeffrey Schreckengost.

The songs were written and recorded to the drum tracks, generally in a three or four hour time period. I didn’t write down any of the music and most of the guitar tracks were done with alternate tunings.

Vocals were then written and sung, often layered.

This is music for band of seven guitars, one bass, one drummer, and a few vocalists.

Format
The album will be released as a digital download and CD.
https://hostskull.bandcamp.com/album/hsob010-david-bernabo-the-inn

Label
This album is the 10th release on the Ongoing Box imprint.

Lyrics

The Inn
Latch the leather to the wooden. Fix a bag to take to your bed. Try the key. Nine and 20.
Throw off those trad forms. I’m here to do better. Rejoice together. Nine and 20
in the company’s bed. The Bull and The Queen’s Head. This one I guess it isn’t so.

Now See-Thru
Driving from Karlovy Vary to Berlin - consider these my castle days. 
I hope for castle days again. Rehearse the moves. Make up a new one.
Passes through the heated man. Passes through the biggest spot of the now see-through.
Trying to burn the heavens from the neighbor’s lawn. It’s hard to push me down.
I’m always walking through that door. Feel the light. Then feel no light.
Feel the thorn for the seasons, for all the wanderers of the now see-through.

Material
Material. Wheel it down. Rub with salt and slice your hand. Not an actual man, 
a dove and dissolution. The stink of hell. Join them together if on the path of the big blue white. 
Lower, devour. Babe, kick it with me tonight.

Care-churning Stone
Later that night they sing, “Care-churning stone,” and I'm knocking against the stone.
And now I'm back to the river and now I'm back to the crush.
Later that night. Later that evening.
Every now and how it shows up, every now and where the wind brittles.
Slashing at the salt sand. Again with the river bug petal.
Care-churning sleep, here we go in. A back to the river. Ham to hum crush.
Here we go in. Knocking against the stone. Here we go.
After a hill, a hill town.

Table in the Circle
Circle on the desk. Charcoal skin, man. Specify human breath.
Wandered home late. Was twice a legend. Split oak til seven then piled the logs,
and the wind keeps growing. You say, “Who’r they?”
Then your spine fattens. Run the length near the water’s edge.
Then nothing.

Handsome One
I am the tall and handsome one.
I am red around the neck. I will make the mountains pound.
I am the medicine. I am the dam in the riverbed, the shot of adrenaline.
Who stays out? Feeling for the down line? Whistle from head to thigh.
I am the head of the full table, but I am the one that gets up late.
I am the error in the fleshed-out thought, the air that needs some room to breathe.
I will make the dawn daytime. I am the can-do. I am the wrong in the winter dream.

Spread Over This World
Over the blue. In the image of . . . It is young.

The Overlook
Walking with a second skin. Heavy as electric body.
Later on sheepskin and a good sleep in the day, a canvas with no pay.
Step on the light you don’t know. Deny yourself to rot for the gold below.
With this microphone, I expand the ego. “Ever let it out?”
“No.”

Winter God Light
I was the maker, the maker of fools. I spit into the alleyway to watch it bloom.
I was the vessel, the vessel for love. I walked in through the door and what fell was blood.
You felt matter now, agency in life. Then it turned around and said, “Fall down dead.”
Take tyrant, man, make a humble life. I saw into the living and I saw the mistake.
It was no darkness. It was new life. I gave it up, knowing together, knowing my right.
I of the clear tongue. I of the night. Ship off in the early morning winter god light.

 

Short bio
I co-lead the band Host Skull and compose for film, theater, dance, and briefly video games. My film work is currently focused on a four-film documentary series investigating food culture in Western Pennsylvania. Dance works include work with my variable MODULES company and work with choreographer Maree ReMalia’s merrygogo. Art works have lately tended toward installation, sculpture, and video, but I also make paintings and other 2D work. I am also the Arts and Culture Editor of The Glassblock.

Links
www.davidbernabo.com
www.foodsystemsfilm.com