Mystic Tape Deck Feed

EXPLORE EXPANDED FORMAT EXPERIENCE HERE: https://cloakofnazili.org/bards/amaranthine-artifacts/singing-stones

The Singing Stones represent the memory of the earth and the hidden harmony beneath all things. They are stones that remember what has been spoken, sung, and suffered upon the ground. When struck, they answer—not with their own voice, but with the voice of something buried.

LYRICS

-----------------------------------

Balanced on top of a tall barren bluff,

Two shadowy faraway specks

Wayward locations along a long ley line

Crumbs of some cryptic cromlech

Boulder, boulder the silent beholder

Boulder, beholder, most durable soldier

Boulder, boulder the silent beholder

Time is beholden to thee

One sings the songs of the sunrise

And the other one psalms of the dusk

While down in the valley the empires rise up

And are weathered away into dust

Boulder, boulder the silent beholder

Boulder, boulder, most durable soldier

Boulder, boulder the silent beholder

Time is beholden to thee

The wind wears them smooth

And the pebbles roll down

And the rain cuts its grooves

And the cold cracks their crown

And they sing to each other

In a whisper so low

That no one can hear them

So no one will know

There’s no one to mourn their passing

And there’s nowhere that they’ll ever go

Beginnings were born to bear witness

And their end no mere mortal may know

Boulder, boulder the silent beholder

Boulder, boulder, most durable soldier

Boulder, boulder the silent beholder

Time is beholden to thee

The men make their wars

And they cut themselves down

And the blood runs in rivers

As they die for the crown

But they sing to each other

In so dulcet a tone

That the boulders can hear them

Although still only stone

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

― William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Official Video here: https://youtu.be/mmZTqpvTZCs?si=u5ks4YE7XDx6bhlx

Check out the review over at Doomed & Stoned: https://doomedandstoned.com/post/813332350278746112/mystictapedeck

The Soothsayer's Bone is said to be the femur of a prophet and psychic so ancient, their name has been forgotten to the mists of time. The bone has been passed down through a long chain of people in positions of great power around the world. It is said to possess great fortune telling powers, granting whomever holds it the ability to use it as a sort of diving rod to merge normally disconnected timelines and open a window through the astral veil - through which the future can be seen. The outcomes appear as implanted “memories” in the mind of the user, who can then “see” the future outcome of a chain of causal events as though they are recalling something they had already experienced.

The relic has a history of being passed down through a long chain of tyrannical rulers who have used the powers of the bone to forecast the outcome of military battles and political upheavals. It was especially useful in the hands of despots and oppressors who used it only for personal gain and securing their continuing authoritarian power.

While the bone could potentially be used to advance humanity and create a more just and peaceful world, instead it has passed the eons in the hands of simple minded evildoers who use it instead for personal gain and power over others. Some legends say that it was always meant to serve only the needs of its most selfish and hateful masters, but that one day it will fall into the possession of someone who will make great peace with it and vanquish evil from the Earth.

Nazilic scholars say that the relic has existed through multiple iterations of the great cycle, and is fiercely guarded by those in power who hold it, preventing it from landing in the hands of the one who will use it for the goodly benefit of all humankind. Many of these despotic leaders have insisted they be buried with the artifact, being unwilling to part with it even in death, but it has been dug up and robbed from their graves each and every time.

Nazilic monks believe it is their destiny to finally possess the bone, and that it will play a role in the final dissolution of the shining one by falling into the hands of one who shall rise from amongst their own ranks. So far, however, they have not been successful in obtaining it through several iterations of the great cycle.

LYRICS:

---------------------

They plough their fields

They sow their rows

They weave their blankets for the nights when the cold wind blows

They swing their scythe

They reap their stow

And they grind their crusty bread with the soothsayer’s bone

They light their fires

Burn their effigies

All dancing deep in madness, rapt in ecstacy

They wave their flags

They wail and moan

And they beat the war drums with the soothsayer’s bone

They’re the prowlers on the prairie

They’re the keepers of the key

They’re the shadow steppers stepping, stepping over you and me

They’re the dreamers of the desert

And they’re never at home

And they stir their bubbling stew with the soothsayer’s bone

They pour their wine

They fill their grail

Collect the seeping gore in gilded golden pails

They nod and chant

Ascend the throne

And they pierce the astral veil with the soothsayer’s bone

They pick their battles

They win their fights

Adore their kings and revere their shining knights

They sacrifice the innocent

For sins they must atone

And they pick their rotten teeth with the soothsayer’s bone

They’re the prowlers on the prairie

They’re the keepers of the key

They’re the shadow steppers stepping, stepping over you and me

They’re the dreamers of the desert

And they’re never at home

And they stir their bubbling stew with the soothsayer’s bone

COMPLETE LINER NOTES HERE---> https://mystictapedeck.com/bards/the-clock-of-the-four-winds/

The clock of the four winds is a tall-case grandfather style clock originally assembled in 1710 by an Italian astronomer and mathematician named Ricco Foscari, a direct patrilineal descendant of famed explorer, vintner and occultist, Cosimo Foscari. The magical properties of the clock were such that when its hands were moved and positioned in certain configurations, it would trigger remote viewing events which would be projected onto the glass panel cover. The clock was also rumored to serve as a sort of “beacon” used for summoning an other-dimensional being named “Desdinova” who acted as a sort of intermediary between detached yet interconnected causal timelines.

LYRICS:

--------------------------------------

The chariots lie broken exhausted from war

The wheels rolled off in the mud

In the morning all good things are good

The sun warms up the mud

Stillness is raptured in all its arising

The seeds grow up from the mud

In the morning the dawn weighs a feather

The insects hatch from the mud

The hunger for sunlight draws flies to the surface

The babies wake up in the mud

In the morning from green murky waters

To wiggle around in the mud

Bones growing hollow, the gills turn to lungs

Gasping for breath in the mud

The fins turn to legs the scales turn to vellum

As feathers shake loose from the mud

Fly high, all you flying high birds

While the warm western winds are beneath you

Oh you soaring high birds

The sky coming down to greet you

We’re all dying to meet you

The bird, the great swooping bird

Beak open, gobbling gold

Oh you soaring high bird

The north winds are growing cold

Feathers flush with colors bold

Now pretend you are the sun

Feathers flush with colors bold…

Now pretend you are the sun

The southern winds, the washboard clouds

Diving daringly during the day

Teetering upon the tip of the tree

The seasons will have their way

Tail feathers turning to gray

Scatter little birds, oh you tiny little birds

The easterly light is encroaching

Seeds spilled upon the ground

With the end of the autumn approaching

And the seasons must have their way…

Now pretend you are the sun

And the seasons must have their way…

Now pretend you are the sun

And the seasons must have their way…

Rider’s final horse has ridden

Puzzle finished, last piece hidden

Oysters chatter on evening tide:

“I’m Desdinova and I confide,

I am the one you warned me of

I am the leak and the long lost love

And I am the one who will never lie

Deathless, I may never die

By lizard lens and crystal rope

You know me by my telescope”

Scattering stars in hand she shouts:

“The play is what it’s all about

Behind the clock with arms stretched tall

The script is on the western wall

Behold the light that never warms

You’ve been warned, I am the storm”

So raise up your chalice and toast to the moon

And sing to the stars as they flicker and loom

O! Irony! O! Tragedy!

Aching knees don’t fail me now

We slayed the vile dragon who lived in the skies

We bathed in its blood and we pickled its eyes

O! Devilry! O! Revelry!

If my friends could see me now

O! Bravery! Camaraderie!

The last lotus eaters recline in the sun

The race to return has been finally run

Finality! Causality!

Swept away on swaggering swans

The Feathered Crown is a card of pride, loss, and the aftermath of hubris. It draws upon two rich veins of folklore — the Appalachian belief in a feathered crown found beneath a dying person’s pillow, and the ancient myth of the Sirens and the Muses. Together, these stories form a layered symbol of reckoning, the echoes of lost glory, and the burdens of victory.

In Appalachian tradition, discovering a tightly woven feathered crown in a pillow was often seen as a sign that the soul of the deceased had passed to heaven, a mysterious mark of spiritual judgment. In mythology, after the Muses defeated the Sirens in a singing contest, the Sirens were stripped of their wings as punishment for their arrogance. The Muses, triumphant, wove the plucked feathers into radiant crowns — symbols of their victory but also of the destruction they wrought.

This card stands at the intersection of triumph and regret. It speaks of victories that come at a cost, the spoils of conquest weighed down by lingering guilt or sorrow. The Feathered Crown reminds us that success without humility invites ruin. It asks whether our pursuits of recognition or superiority are worth the burdens we carry in their wake.

---------------------------------------

Drums, Percussion, Keyboards: Ron Thomas

Guitars, Bass, Banjo, Lyre, Vocals, Midi: PS Perkins

Mixed and mastered by Mystic Tape Deck

Dedicated to Josephine of the Mouse Folk

LYRICS

---------------------------------------

I saw your feathered crown, the one you keep under your pillow

Did you think that you could hide it from me?

As you don your supple plumage, tell me did you win it truly

From the fairest maidens of Persephone?

Are your songs of grief and woe, are they songs of deep regret?

With feathers plucked from silvery Sirens wings?

Or from the tails of rainbow ravens perching just outside your window

Waiting for the passing ships to hear them sing

Waiting for the passing ships to hear you sing

Dashed upon the rotten rocks of harpy limbed nightingales

Where tides resound with death inducing cries

As the sailors climb and clamor for a seat upon the razor

And a melody to cling to as they die

Rejoicing in the arts of their inglorious ease,

Freely frolic where the churning waters flow

Diving from the clifftops, splashing down into the seas below

Charming in both poetry and prose

Alluring in both poetry and prose

Whosoever dare to wear the feathers in their hair

Like the parrot and the magpie in a cage

That we may divert our stare from the circling of the bear

While standing proud upon the heavens final stage

When the starry sisters nine, with their bellies full of wine

Have bested you at your own foolish games

And the ships all passing by which now leave you there to die

Having never even known your given names

Having never even known your real names

I saw your feathered crown, the one you keep under your pillow

Did you think that you could hide it from me?

Oh, Josephine, you should have known better.

The Crystal Caves is a symbol of submission, revelation, and the enigmatic boundary between knowledge and madness. It depicts vast, gleaming caverns deep beneath the earth’s crust, where immense quartz crystals grow like frozen lightning. These radiant formations are not merely geological wonders — they are conduits of consciousness, forming the neural lattice of an ancient, mythological intelligence.

In the lore of this card, humanity’s collective fears and desires are imprinted upon the crystals, forming an unfathomable archive of thoughts and memories. Faced with an existential crisis — be it environmental collapse, war, or spiritual disillusionment — a select few are chosen to hear the ringing. This sound, like a chorus of distant bells reverberating inside their minds, is a calling from the depths. Those who submit to the summons venture into the Crystal Caves, seeking understanding. Others resist, unwilling to face the knowledge that awaits — and in doing so, are consumed by the madness of dissonance.

This card challenges us to confront our inner callings. It asks whether we are willing to descend into the recesses of our own minds, face the uncomfortable truths that lie within, and emerge transformed. Alternatively, it warns of the destructive consequences of rejecting growth when the time has come to evolve.

Drums, piano, vibes: R Thomas

Guitars, Bass, Vocals, PS Perkins

Recorded, mixed and mastered by Mystic Tape Deck

Tascam DP24SD + StudioOne 7 + a bunch of cheap mics

LYRICS

---------------------------

In the ways of the world from the crib to the grave

Everybody’s a slave

Ain't nobody gonna save us

Save your bellyachin for another day

Baby they got ways

Of making you behave

When you hear those bells ringing in your brain

Before they drive ya insane

Get on a boat or a plane

Take the golden taxi to the crystal caves

It’s a little like doomsday

You’re gonna have to be brave

Come join your friends in the crystal caves

Meet the underground conclave

At the standing wave

Gonna put the computer right into your vein

Connect the aqueous membrane

To the mineral mainframe

Gonna jump and jive when they play that jazz

Sprinkle on the pizazz

And just a little bit of zip zap biddly bap foo bar baz

Come and disappear in the crystal cave

Everybody’s a slave

Ain't nobody gonna save us

Now that you’ve arrived, won't you come on in?

We’re all about to begin

To start shedding our skin

Make like a snake, and gobble up that tail

It’s a hwale of a fairy tale

On the shell of a snail

In the mystery maze deep under the ground

A little magic we found

A way a watch can be unwound

To begin again inside the cave alone

A place we’re gonna call home

Amidst the shimmering stone

In the ways of the world from the crib to the grave

Everybody’s a slave

Ain't nobody gonna save us

FULL SONG NOW AVAILABLE HERE:

https://soundcloud.com/mystictapedeck/the-feathered-crown

We often do some quite elaborate percussion ensembles within our songs which can get a little buried under everything else we do. The aim of this release is to highlight some of the more interesting percussion passages in our songs, before you hear the songs themselves.

Just thought it might be fun to feature these.

This one has a drum kit, tabla, tambourine, finger bells, finger snaps and claps, and some crowd sound samples.

Some things belong underground, though they may emerge every now and then to feed in the night.

"The Busy Worms" is a sweet little bedtime story about things which wiggle and dance in the serious moonlight. So let's dance. But then it's time for bed.

LYRICS

----------------------------------------

(What? Oh I guess I can tell you one little story. Ok, lay down...)

A wee little wiggle, deep underground

Turn of the shovel, see what we've found

Yes you can hold one but don't squeeze too tight

They'll squirm from your fingers and slip out of sight

Now don't worry darling, don't catch a fright

The worms are just hungry, they feed in the night

Slippery, slimy and hidden from sight

Twisting and turning they dance in the moonlight

Dance in the moonlight

The worms are busy tonight

Yes you can hold one but don't squeeze too tight

They'll squirm from your fingers and slip out of sight

The earth is no object, it's just passing through

They keep the soil healthy for me and for you

Slippery, slimy and hidden from sight

Twisting and turning they dance in the moonlight

The serious moonlight

The worms are busy tonight

Did you ever think when a hearse drives by

That you may be the next to die?

They'll wrap you up in a big white sheet

That covers you from your head to your feet

They'll lower you down in a deep dark pit

And leave you alone to rot in it

The big black bug with the big red eyes

Crawls in your innards and out your sides

The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out

They dance the watusi upon your snout

The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out

(Good night, sweet dreams. See you in the morning!)

Ekasha Gada is the mace wielded by Lord Shiva, one of the three primary deities in Hinduism. According to mythological accounts, a single blow from the Ekasha Gada is said to be as powerful as being struck by a million elephants, emphasizing its immense force and destructive capabilities.

Guitars, Bass, Mandolin, Vocals: PS Perkins

Drums, Percussion, Backup Vocals: R Thomas

LYRICS:

-----------------------------------------------

God Killer

World Eater

Thunder Breaker

Widower Maker

Ekasha Gada!

Storm Rider

Soul Slayer

Time Twister

Holy Diver

Ekasha Gada!

Space Bender

Life Ender

Eye Melter

Death Bringer

Ekasha Gada!

Moon Razer

Cloth Cutter

Dragon Brother

Chaos Mother

Ekasha Gada!

Horn Blower

Smoke Maker

Night Chaser

Day Tripper

Ekasha Gada!

Head Chopper

Code Cracker

Bone Chewer

Sonic Reducer

Ekasha Gada!

Fire Breather

Lava Seeper

Spirit Seeker

Energy Reaper

Ekasha Gada!

Earth Shaker

Sea Splitter

Galaxy Smasher

Planet Basher

Ekasha Gada!

Boulder Buster

Ship Sinker

Steel Bender

Mountain Wrecker

Ekasha Gada!

PS Perkins: Guitars, bass, lyre, vocals

Ron Thomas: Autoharps, Drums

Production notes:

---------------------------------------------

Very early on we wanted to use autoharps on this song to create a sort of swirling backdrop, reminiscent of the harps in Indian/Bollywood soundtrack songs of the seventies.

Right away there were challenges because the song is in B flat and is not wholly diatonic to begin with, utilizing a chord built on the augmented lydian scale in the choruses. So rather than transpose the song to a more amenable key (since the chromatic bits weren't going to work no matter what key we used) we instead re-tuned the autoharp. Moving through the strings one by one we tuned them either up or down a half step where applicable to bring them into key. Where the augmented chord hit in the choruses, we excluded those notes so that the autoharp was filling the diatonic parts of the chords and omitting the accidentals. It took us several tries to get it right. In the end we arrived at a chord progression that could be strummed on the autoharp and the modified chords could be played with existing dampers.

We also tuned the lyre so that the top half of the strings included the chromatic augmented notes while the lower register of the lyre was tuned using the diatonic, so the lyre could play the melody all the way through both parts of the song.

The inspiration for this song was essentially fourfold:

--------------------------------------------------------

First, H.P. Lovecraft's terrifying necromancer Joseph Curwen (from "The Case of Charles Dexter Ward") who masked his true identity in order to thwart suspicion from his fellow townsfolk. He has many secrets lurking in his underground catacombs where he performs acts of necromancy most foul, extracting the "salts" of the dead in order to raise them at will and learn the secrets of ancient eldritch deities.

Second, a poem by Rudyard Kipling titled "En-Dor" which was a warning against the rise of spiritualism and the cost of communion with the dead in the early 20th century.

Third, the biblical Saul who traveled in disguise to visit a witch at the city of Endor in order to summon Samuel from the dead and garner advice on defeating the Philistines, but who only prophesies doom for Saul. Saul dies later the next day in the battle of Gilboa.

Lastly, the story of Odysseus communing with the underworld where he enlists the help of Tiresias to have a chat with the dead and secure for himself a safe journey home.

They all seek communion with the dead for one purpose: to gain knowledge which only those who have crossed over between realms might possess.

Lyrics:

-------------------------------------

A mask may reveal what it’s meant to conceal

From those who are standing beside us

Armor of pride, so we learn to abide

By the monsters which hide deep inside us

The monsters which lurk deep inside us

Oh, how they scratch and they bite us

The monsters which lurk deep inside us

Only to know what the professor knows

Eating black bread, wearing clothes of the dead

The soil soaked in honey around us

For fear if we failed, leave the ogre unveiled

And it’s back in the grave where they found us

Back in the grave where they found us

Freed from the ties which had bound us

Back in the grave where they found us

Only to know what the professor knows

In the catacomb vaults, we extracted the salts

From cadavers to lengthen our youth

Chanting the names at the edge of the flames

And a mirror to show us the truth

A mirror which speaks only truth

See how it seeks not to soothe

A mirror which speaks only truth

Only to know what the professor knows

In the underworld maze, in the night of no days

Concocting the plan we’re devising

Much to endure on the road to En-Dor

And to snatch from Elohim arising

To snatch from Elohim arising

Snatch from Elohim arising

Snatch from Elohim arising

Snatch from Elohim arising

Snatch from Elohim arising

A banned book fetish. That's our current kink.

Read the accompanying poem here while you listen: https://mystictapedeck.com/bards/the-librarian/

PS Perkins: Guitars, Bass, Vocals, Piano, wood blocks, programming

R Thomas: Drums, Wah guitar, shakers, cowbell

LYRICS

--------------------------

A secret knock, a hidden door, a narrow hallway

The eyeless guide sees us inside, watching us always

As we meander down the aisles,

Rows of spines which stretch for miles

And we show our special card

On the scent of another shard

A vaulted dome, a musty tome, an umbrous alcove

A sacred space, a quiet place, a sunken treasure trove

Details infinitesimal

Dewiest of decimals

Ever stranger truth to know

As we squish the forbidden fruit between our toes

A deeper shaft, an ancient craft, a garish goblin

The icy stare, the purple hair, a memory maudlin

Going deep down in the mines

With a shining pick to grind

The librarian lights the way

Understands the game we play

A puzzle piece, a glob of grease, a rusted lever

A blazing fire, we never tire, we nurse our fever

Run our fingers down the crease

Gently comb the golden fleece

Read aloud the sacred scroll

Let's show these muggles how we roll

They cant stand you, they want to ban you

They want to sterilize and pack you up and can you

They prefer truth that's mass produced

Because they're lacking the tenacity to grasp you

So let me ask you: what's the bigger threat?

While we're waiiting on a bomb you haven't dropped yet

They'd rather burn you then have to learn you

Their little fingers are too slippery to turn you

The truth waits for us to dissect it

And librarians are here to protect it

So grab some glasses if you need

And climb atop the worlds' mightiest steed

We're gonna read until our fingers bleed

It's a seed, it's a need, it's an urge you gotta heed

It's a growl in your stomach that you know you gotta feed

Let's show 'em how to read!