by koranotron

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koranotron was created between 2015 and 2016 by ted munat in spokane, wa.

artwork by mikhale rogers ii

furthermore, this album would not exist without the artistic and spiritual inspiration of mikhale.

thank you, mikki

Stage is dark. Only the sound of a mournful cello, holding one note. Every ten seconds, the note shifts upwards three notes, creating an altered perspective that rests in a manner that is intuitive and dissonant at the same time. Ten seconds later, the note returns to the original note. But the original note no longer feels as it did previously. Each time we return to the original note, it is different, arrived at from a unique angle.

Lights go up to dim, revealing nothing. A bare stage, illuminated peacefully in warm yellows and oranges. Three leaves, each a different color, slowly step in from stage right. They appear to be marching, perhaps drunkenly. The front leaf kicks its legs straight out, marching band style, pumping a baton up and down in mock military maneuvers. It presses its lips together tightly to prevent laughter from escaping. The two leaves behind it make no such effort to conceal their amusement. They hold their bellies and double over with laughter, stumbling after the front leaf.

The three leaves are satirizing humans, in all their misgiven solemnity, all their surreal rituals and traditions. The leaves know they are leaves, know how and when to go where the wind takes them, yet know where they are headed, and know why. With such certainty of purpose, with so little confusion in one’s existence, there is plenty of time for fun and games.

A leaf playing the soldier, the marching man. There is nothing on this earth more hysterical than that. The leaves know that this is the case.

Lights go down again. The cello continues its pattern, alternating notes every ten seconds. The cello does not know what seconds are. The cello does not know what ten is. The cello only knows what needs to be said, and so says it with the sincerity of an infant’s eyes, with the tongue of the eldest mountain. In not knowing what ten is, in not knowing what seconds are, the cello creates ten. The cello creates seconds. Its notes alternate every ten seconds. Every ten seconds alternate its notes.

There is a straight line between its notes. In traversing this straight line over and over again, the cello creates curves. It swirls and tilts and spirals up and down. Within its spirals, the universe is created. Consciousness comes to be. The cello does not know any of this. The cello only knows what it must sing, and so it sings it, with the clarity of the night sky. With the passion of the cosmos. And this is how straight lines can create circles, and how circles can create everything.

Lights come up again, to the same warm yellows and oranges as before, but this time it appears different. There is nothing different on this stage. Everything is exactly the same. The director and producer and stagehands and lighting people have taken great pains to ensure that everything is exactly the same. It takes great work to keep everything exactly the same. Many have died trying to keep everything exactly the same. But the director and the producers and the stagehands and lighting people are not going to die trying. They know that the stage is different. They know that in taking great pains to make sure that nothing is different, that everything will be different. They know that this is why they must work to keep everything the same. If they don’t work to keep everything the same, nothing will be different.

Nothing happens on the stage at this time. Not even leaves marching. Nothing happens, except for this difference. This difference is happening on the stage. And this is more than enough. This difference is everything.


released September 22, 2016

ted munat plays the koranotron




sentipentsaris Spokane, Washington

Sentipentsaris is an always-evolving studio and open collective based in Spokane, WA.
The sounds contained here are the product of collaborations among the many brilliant and creative misfits of the area. We are amorphous, non-critical, and highly absorbent. Projects evolve and develop based on the input and impulses of those present. Enjoy us, and/or join us. With love, SP. ... more

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Track Name: but i am more well with this deep ache
He sits in his room
Startled by what he sees
Not knowing what to think
Not knowing what to believe

The trembling he feels
Strickins pain inside
He can't run from his fears
He has no where to hide

'What is this curse
that has fallen on me'
'What did I learn'
What did I see

He knows so little
He suffers so much
He hears every whisper
He feels every touch

Finally he gives in
To whatever he's done
The game still continues
But no one has fun
Track Name: so she hit me with 8000 poems
So beautiful appeared my death - knowing who then I would kiss,
I died a thousand times before I died.

"Die before you die," said the Prophet

Have wings that feared ever
touched the Sun?

I was born when all I once
feared - I could