Ravel

by Silver Godling

with a visual collaboration with Teddie Taylor

Released on vinyl October 9, 2020

A split release between Gilead MediaStrange Daisy Records, & Howling Mine

Ravel.jpg

Ravel started with Silver Godling creating music based on the human experience of learning and finding the ability to choose, and the frayed knot of confusion and reaction that often lie at the center of that experience. The premise for the collaboration with Teddie Taylor rested on finding representations in nature of those experiences. The LP comes with a full-sized photography booklet dedicated to the project. 

The music of Ravel, particularly "Ghost Dog," is dedicated to Anita Eaglin Cage (1934-2014). The photograph of Anita Cage in the gatefold of the booklet was taken by Daneen Storc.

Words.

i. Parallel You. It’s murky, this energy source that has no channels of deliverance. Gray with dying light flickering. It’s pointless, to hoard so much power in veins formed to hold much less. Abcessed and threatening explosion. A glimpse of what could’ve been. A glimpse of what is thought to have been. It’s empty, this fount of lent blood consumed by everyone. Still sticky with residue. It’s apparent, this food found in my hands that I’m giving and giving to you. The end is near by way of depletion. A glimpse of what could’ve been. A glimpse of what is thought to have been. 

ii. Death → Oh! Fear of what remains if this grip slips. Dropped and on someone else’s shore. Realizations that deflection fully functions. Where is this transparency I thought existed? Through and forgotten. Don’t we all achieve dissipation? All we have to give. Reflection of a mask hiding this true self. How long a presentation can live? Stifled and gasping, deteriorating. Or is this offering the root with rot and greenery and all?

→ Oh! Grinding hatred, homicidal outrage, unwavering fury. The bloodthirsty excuse of the degraded, of the dispossessed, of the betrayed. Warm blood is the only gold I would hoard. Sightless eyes are only jewels I would covet. 

iii. Devotion. Such devotion, defined by absolute gutting, spill onto the floor. Such devotion, defined by strict but slow eyelash removal, pluck out one by one. Such devotion, defined by a joker smile, wire through the sides of your mouth. Such devotion, defined by taking out your nails, rip off your fingernails. If you said it’s what you need, would I argue or comply? If you said it’s what you need, I’d help you see it’s not. Such devotion, defined by raw shoulders, hammered body in the earth. Such devotion, defined by log through throat, rough and scraping. Such devotion, defined by anesthetizing tongue and throat, remove the voice box. Such devotion, defined by eyes pinned open, needles pierce skin. If I said it’s what I need, would you listen? If I said it’s what I need, you’d help me see it’s not. If you said it’s what you need, would I listen? If I said it’s what I need, you’d help me see it’s not. If you said (if I said) it’s what you need (it’s what I need), would we listen? If you said (if I said) it’s what you need (it’s what I need), we’d help us see it’s not. 

 

iv. Ghost Dog. Stationary beside the water she sits. Gray-green reflects her snowy face, tongue bobbing in the heat. Wary eyes that I watch, memorize, I wander, then she’s gone. Oh everything is avoidable! What hungers you? What sustains you? How do we begin to accept both presence and absence? In a house that welcomes other air, I stand in the hallway that suddenly intensifies with a rush of cold. Flickering lights like shadows over the sun, like electricity smothered, I feel her! More than pressure, it’s an injection soft and gently prying into skin as my nerves twinkle. Oh deflating this armor! Do I hunger you? What all sustains you? How do we begin to accept both presence and absence? She’s alive, growing like a fungus in the earthen ground! Dissipating in the air, intangible yet spores sticking in my hair. What hungers you? What sustains you? Will you show us how to accept both presence and absence? What hungers you? What sustains you? Will you show us how to accept both presence and absence? 

 

v. This is Worth It (Or Not). This is worth it. This is worth what? 

 

vi. One Same. Dots distract your vision. It’s the blood that splattered from. What happened? What happened? Is it from new life? What happened? What happened? Is it from your mistakes? Your hand drops, lifeless. Control becomes evasive because. What happened? What happened? Is it from new life? What happened? What happened? Is it from your mistakes? When torture dictates the way you stroke their face, may your hand disintegrate. When greed defines your falsely loving words, may your tongue swell and explode. I guessed you were dead, and I shouted with joy! Then I shattered into uncountable pieces. I guessed you were dead, and I shouted with joy. But we all deserve to die, sometime. Death is our one same. 

 

vii. Whatever. Did you ask for my blessing? I saw you cry out, but did you ask for my blessing? What are you made of - sand, stone, ash? Whatever, I saw you cry out. Whatever, I saw you cry out! Inaudible in the fog - whatever! Whatever. I saw you cry out. 
 

All songs composed, arranged, and performed by Emily McWilliams. All lyrics by Emily McWilliams, except for “Oh!” by Bryan Funck. 

Emily McWilliams - vocals, piano, synths, percussion

Beck Levy - guitar, vocals on “Ghost Dog”

Sedef Switch - violin

Kallie Tiffault - bass

Stephen Weigand - drums

James Whitten - programmer

All songs recorded and mixed by James Whitten at HighTower Recording.

All songs mastered by Adam Tucker at Signaturetone Recording.

All photography and layout by Teddie Taylor. Ravel booklet is a collaboration specific to Ravel. 

Booklet gategold photo of Anita Cage by Daneen Storc, collage by Teddie Taylor.