Darby CicciNighttime Reversed
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song created                                

Monday, January 07, 2008 11:57:48 PM
song updated                               

Tuesday, January 08, 2008 12:01:56 AM
stations playing this song              
ALtErNaTiVe ReTrO aNd PsYcHeDeLiC
Enjoy These Choons
left field standards
~Mind~Warp~
the party deux
knives that stab your face
IMP Playlist
Finnegans Wake
IndieMusicPeople

 















if you don't sleep for a couple days, everything in reality takes on the general feeling of a dream. If you don't sleep for a week, you can't tell the difference between what is real and what is not.

Darby Cicci played everything except drums.
Justin Stivers (The Pet Ghost Project) played drums.

You can sleep when you’ve found every lady underground who didn’t want to sleepwalk through my dream – there wasn’t any problem there’s nothing wrong with her – and the catholic girls are right every saint has to die all the angels survive along with one or two of my lies – you can fly off you’re still breathing you’ll be fine never changing your mind you can fall if you resist it you will drop alone – I’ll rewind the clock to win this game takes too long it’s all for nothing then you’re gone.
Song Comments

~Mind~Warp~
Great song and mind altering concept. "If you don't sleep for a couple days, everything in reality takes on the general feeling of a dream. If you don't sleep for a week, you can't tell the difference between what is real and what is not."


ALtErNaTiVe ReTrO aNd PsYcHeDeLiC
Beautifully strange fluid nightmare/dream song,filled with a kinda unsettling narcotic restlessness and a very individual creativity..Resides in a world somewhere between Syd Barrett and David Gilmours Pink Floyd..Can't belive this guys on only 3 stations..


Finnegans Wake
Yet may we not see still the brontoichthyan form outlined a- slumbered, even in our own nighttime by the sedge of the trout- ling stream that Bronto loved and Brunto has a lean on. Hiccubat edilis. Apud libertinam parvulam. Whatif she be in flags or flitters, reekierags or sundyechosies, with a mint of mines or beggar a pinnyweight. Arrah, sure, we all love little Anny Ruiny, or, we mean to say, lovelittle Anna Rayiny, when unda her brella, mid piddle med puddle, she ninnygoes nannygoes nancing by. Yoh! Brontolone slaaps, yoh snoores. Upon Benn Heather, in Seeple Isout too. The cranic head on him, caster of his reasons, peer yu- thner in yondmist. Whooth? His clay feet, swarded in verdigrass, stick up starck where he last fellonem, by the mund of the maga- zine wall, where our maggy seen all, with her sisterin shawl.


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