Skerik

The best thing for me about listening to Skerik blow is that, when he really rips, my eyes have to close and after awhile, I realise that if I didn't know this man's utterly unique style of juggling tone and timbre inside and out, whatever it is that I am hearing could pass for a guitar riff or a violin's whisper or
Octopi mating
Elastic rainbows
Turning into toadstools
Fused with spinning tops
The haunted call of the Indri indri
Shredding the steam of the Madagascan forest
Melting sunspores
The raw voice of birth

And then there is no room left in me for stillness, which is of course my favourite thing. If zigs were zags and jitters were bugs and minor was very, very major and raunchy was heavenly and jagged was smooth and horrific was exquisite
This is that
This is how did one human come by SO MUCH BREATH
This is starsilt sifting winnows
Lilting limbwise through an ocean of light
This is the paradox built into the earth-turn
This is Elysium growling grace
From the depths of her loins
This is drive home in silence
Alone with Seattle in the heavy hush-hewn fog
Because I dare not wash such magic from my ears