Dear Chaos. Live Sessions

by Médeia Fiai

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1.
04:40
2.
05:26
3.
4.
03:19
5.
06:28
6.
7.
03:51
8.
08:56

credits

released February 7, 2013

All songs were recorded live in Studio 11, Subotica, Serbia and mixed by Vladimir "Grujo" Grubor and Médeia Fiai
except #3 recorded live in Vármúzeum (Castle Museum), Szeged, Hungary
and #7 recorded in various flats in Szeged and mixed by Lengyel Zoltán.
Cover photo by Varga Farkas.

MÉDEIA FIAI are

Lanczkor Gábor - acoustic and electric guitars, voice
Lengyel Zoltán - voice, banjo, Portuguese guitar, harmonica, melodica
Orcsik Roland - Hungarian zither, gong, metal bars and sticks, other percussion
Szokol Szilárd - drums, percussion

2013, Szeged, Hungary

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Médeia Fiai Szeged, Hungary

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Track Name: Flora
Ancient plants grow from your mouth. Your breast is made of speaking flowers. The animals lay at your feet. The ocean fills your heart with darkness. Stop at this point where you got him. He is yours now; don't let him go. He is lost in your maze, in your gentle smile. Kill all his children before he can leave.
Track Name: Blue Spirit
Words by Spencer Williams and Bessie Smith.
Track Name: Children Don't Get Weary (live in Yodok version)
Words: African American spiritual.

Sound excerpt taken from the film Yodok Stories: http://www.snagfilms.com/films/title/yodok_stories
Track Name: Kind Favor
Words: African American traditional.
Track Name: Cantó Ciego
Amor de mis entranas, viva muerte.
Sweet motherfuckers, hope you are fine. You got yours and I got mine.
La elipsse de un grito va de monte a monte.
Sweet motherfuckers, take my crime. When yours fade out there comes my time.
Cantó ciego, cantó ciego.
Sweet motherfuckers, hope you are fine. You got yours, and I got mine.

She built a house with a crafty hand. That's the house where my wandering ends.
Teaching me with a powerful hand in a language only she understands.
Takes me home in her clever hand. I love the ground on where she stands.

(Spanish lines taken from various poems of Federico García Lorca.)
Track Name: Saturnian Puszta. A Guide for Survival
Jump in your lake while your name is at rest. Rise with the wake, learn the name of your guest. He'll show you the way across the forest. Your light steps spread courage in your breast. Then suddenly he leaves you somewhere in the way. No need to look back, no need to stay. Just beware of the danger that the leaves tell you about. As they gently whisper you don't need to shout. The silent bird will come with the dawn anyway. Behold at your feet how the animals lay. So protect them from those creatures on the shore. Their voices are raging, their hearts are sick to the core. The poisonous dust is the word they exhale. Kill their wicked language with a true fairy tale about the horse of far oceans, the most precious of all. He rides on the waters, he conquers the great fall. His name is the word you must keep in secret. When you call him be sure the sea has gone deep red with a quiet sun rising.
Track Name: Heimat
Das Jahr klingt ab.
Der Wind geht über die Stoppeln und findet nichts mehr zu bewegen; nur
die roten Beeren jener schlanken Bäume scheinen uns noch an etwas
Munteres erinnern zu wollen, so wie uns der Taktschlag des Dreschers
den Gedanken erweckt, daß in der abgesichelten Ähre soviel Nährendes und Lebendiges verborgen liegt.

Bring my children home.

(Words taken from Goethes Wahlverwandtschaften.)
Track Name: Twelve Stars
The old horse pulls the wheel cart that drags above us as we pass into a dark tunnel. The number is twelve, the number of the horse's eyes. They are the twelve stars on the sky. As we get out of the tunnel everyone will be there. The mean ones will be there. The good ones will be there. The straightforward will be there. The crooked will be there. The animals will be there. The foxes will be there. The birds will be there. The deer will be there. The horses will be there. The horses will be there. Under the twelve eyes of the horse the countless number of beings meet each other.

The one broken on the wheel; she will be there. The one burnt at the stake; she will be there. The one hung on the cross; she will be there. Suffocated in the chamber; she will be there. The one boiled in the corn field; she will be there. Under the twelve stars night sky, under the lonely moon all these creatures gather.

We are left alone. We have no future. We came to die here. Again and again. So let's smile at each other. Let's shake each other's hands. This journey through the tunnel will soon come to an end. No waste of time. No chance of second thought. Speak bright words to the setting sun.

Between dreams and visions you spoke to me and told me at the end of the tunnel, under the twelve stars, under the twelve eyes of the horse everyone and everything will gather. I objected that twelve is not the infinite. Then I woke up, half asleep, and suddenly realised that you were right: twelve is not a number.

The eyes of the horse are the stars of the sky.