a very close friend of mine who introduced me to tim hecker early in 2010 passed away earlier this week. he was 23. i went into the show today with him on my mind the whole time. he wrote a little something about Harmony In Ultraviolet that, at the time, made very little sense to me.
"i'll be the sunburnt iris, that cloak of war thrown over your back like a forest of knives when we are finished living in god's throat and the lakes are all legends and the sun is a burning skyscraper painted over by an ash plume continent and pamphlets spin in the alleys through the world's long last dance. cut your punk rock from dead hands and weave the nerves through your hair in a spiderweb of bullshit and flesh hammers that let you know who you still are as you wake up in a bed of half-cigarettes and blueprints. wear it 'cross your lips like a crown. news is liquid. kevin shields is a machine. we find sleep in nude columns hanging from some degree where center of gravity cut. a deep mausoleum of blinking lights and diodes that bob to and fro built into a hive of motherly eyes, wires surrounding us in an everything, rainbow hair in a weed undead and keeps its children from empty rooms where there's blood to manufacture from the tri-fates frozen breath. i want to bathe myself in lightning and break my teeth on the shore of your kiss; leak velvet at the lip like a gnarled flower from hell's fist. i want to fall into LA's dungeon and name your footsteps after the sky. then there's the waiting and the endless purple and bullets in the teeth and vile chocolate and roman language and and ahdnadnsasfHGGGGGNNNNN########
mike isard, rest in peace mate. i felt what you were hinting at tonight. i don't think i will ever forget you.