Proc - You Are Outside In (full album) скачать в хорошем качестве

Proc - You Are Outside In (full album)

The sixth Proc album. A THESIS ON THE "OUTSIDE IN", FROM THE FIRST PERSON: I love someone right now. I space out into the day, space out at her hair and dress, her bright and bare arms, down to her legs and to the shimmer of her sneakers. Wind is blowing over my naked skin, as the mudded veils clear and the rainbow isle reveals itself in bright daylight. The archipelago stood large, islands vast, the marsupials thriving. The waves are now the veils for the rocks, bubbles in the saltwater's mist, covering them as if they were a thin film. It stuck there for a while, until the tides lowered, and the rocks walked out of hiding again. I flew over them in the midst of all this, not realizing the uncharted territory there was below me. Fog picked up, and before I knew it, the ocean dream revealed itself in broad daylight (or, lack thereof). The canal stood large, already risen from the sea floor, covered in dead algae and too slippery for anyone to walk on. As I land, I put on my boots and coat, and begin journeying to the shore's edge. I step carefully so as not to slip into the ocean, beyond recovery, drowning in my masculine urges and throwing myself into complete abandon. I have to put physical tension between the ground and the world surrounding me just to be able to walk along the canal's mirror edges, reflecting me in its deep wooden sheen. I walk, and crawl, and shift, and climb towards the currents splashing on the oak surface. I can feel my fear sharpen as I stand, squinting over, breaking the veil between mental and physical, trying to find the ship I'm waiting for. Finally, I made it. I wait. I continue to wait a long time. I wait with impatience, with nervousness, with injustices, with perversion, with a fog figure standing next to me, holding my hand. I grip it tight. I am the fuguist of the dreamscape, a ventriloquist. I know exactly who I am, and yet I know nothing of him. And I am both proud and disgusted at that person. I lie and I tell the truth. I stared into space but maybe I was staring at someone's empty spaces. I collect and recollect these notions of my being, I harvest them. I bake them into little pies and split them between the fog people on the foggy shore, and we dig in. We are all equally impatient. We are waiting to leave. I could fly out of here now, go back home, but that's just cheap. It's all too cheap when I know we are this close to reaching the island of stability. It is theoretical still, yet just within our grasp. And I am putting my fingers out and trying to grab it to the best of my ability without letting it fizzle out. That is what is fearing me most: letting that island fade out into obscurity, waiting years again until another opportunity comes. And try as I may to disguise myself and what I want, I know what I want. I know what I itch for. I know love is the beginning and the end of the continuum, and I am somewhere in the middle. My eyes are damp and red. I have been sitting here longer than I can remember. I am still squinting, looking closely at every detail of the water. Capillary waves are forming with each pump of the cold air breathing. I smell salt kissing me. It is blue-purple, and the fog makes the sky dim and dull, but with almost a dawn-like beauty. A sunrise. And before I knew it, in the faraway distance many yards and meters out, I could see a large ship in the distance. A hand is waving on the boat. I wave back. She is there, she cannot see me well, and I cannot see her well. But I am even more blinded in how unrequited the peeking mind makes my affection. I can't stop thinking about her. It's childish to repeat that, or to try and challenge it. There's no going over or under it; I am going to accept it for what it is. I am still waiting for her ship to come. I am still waving my hand in my knowing. I am still on that edge, about to fall. A single gust of the wind could throw me into the sea now, and I am fully aware of it. I am still staring into the ocean dream. I don't care anymore. I will scream it out as far as possible, scream it in anthems and hymns. And I am going to accept this for what it is. DISC 1 1. Ocean Hymn: 00:00 2. Letters Past Brunch: 04:46 3. Instrumental no. 1: 11:15 4. 4:3: 12:45 5. Just His Luck: 17:17 6. Babbling and Counting Sheep In My Daydreams When No One Sees: 19:35 7. With Perversion: 23:16 8. Socials: 27:12 9. Nocturama: 41:28 10. You Are Outside In: 42:31 DISC 2 11. Spaniel (Don't Go): 52:19 12. Instrumental no. 2: 54:46 13. The Island of Stability: 56:40 14. Wallace: 1:01:40 15. Summoning Spirits: 1:02:06 16. Melody: 1:07:15 17. Melody, the Light: 1:09:53 18. 18: 1:17:27 19: Instrumental no. 3: 1:37:04 20. Y.A.O.I.: 1:38:29 21. I Shouldn't Always Have To Lift You: 1:40:02 22. Deep Space: 1:43:08 23. Ocean Hymn pt. 2: 1:47:58 Listen on Bandcamp: https://corpoproc.bandcamp.com/album/... Listen elsewhere: https://push.fm/fl/2A8mzW7N Twitter: @corpoproc Bluesky: @corpoprocorpoproco.bsky.social