May. 6th, 2011

Prose

May. 6th, 2011 01:28 pm
gothick: (Default)
"He played a four-hundred-year-old Fender Stratocaster with all the switch-gear jammed full on, through a stack of Luthos amps -- each one with a guaranteed output of half a kilowatt -- and a battery of Hydrogen Line thirty-inch speakers. He had a loose-limbed Denebian queen, all pink flares and slashed sleeves, on bass; his drummer was a local man, looking seedy and aggressive by turns like all good drummers do. His sound:

"His sound was long-line and hairy; slow and grinding, full of inexplicable little runs and complications. He stalked the Denebian bass through the harmonies; he made sounds like breaking glass and exploding quasars, like dead ships and orbital confrontations and eras of geological upheaval; he made sounds like God.

"'I'm a highway child,' he sang, 'so don't deny me my name.'

"Which is all as it should be."


-- M John Harrison, The Centauri Device, 1974

I've not read any M John Harrison before. Clearly I should have done. *spends afternoon lost in a book*.

June 2016

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