Kit GlaisyerFine Artist. Gallery Owner. Exhibit across the UK & Worldwide.

Luke De-Sciscio playing at Salon48 at Blackchalk studios Bath Weds 30 Jan 2019 p.3

Name: Luke De-Sciscio playing at Salon48 at Blackchalk studios Bath Weds 30 Jan 2019 p.3
Uploaded: 2019-02-01T13:27:20+00:00
Duration: 1 min 18 s
Channel: Kit Glaisyer
Description: In this excerpt from a live performance recording, two speakers engage in a free‑form, conversational exchange that blends casual banter with poetic…

1 Feb 2019 · 1 min

Watch on YouTube

1:18

In this excerpt from a live performance recording, two speakers engage in a free‑form, conversational exchange that blends casual banter with poetic, lyrical fragments. Speaker A discusses everyday bodily functions, framing them as a public, normal act, and muses about feeling a waltz rhythm while playing music. Speaker B responds with a stream‑of‑consciousness monologue rich in metaphor and repetition, mentioning mirrors, clouds, unstoppable desire, and repeatedly chanting the name "R‑O‑B‑Y‑N" alongside phrases like "Feu de l'Indonie". The dialogue oscillates between informal talk and experimental poetic imagery, creating an avant‑garde performance piece that emphasizes spontaneity, bodily honesty, and abstract lyrical expression.

Chapters

All right, uh, like they did. So that's why I'm— I want to say this. So That disgusting? It's a necessary necessity.
Sorry. Don't apologize for me.
I'm not saying you know what you did. Just normal. A hangnail, was it? No, it was, uh, maintenance.
Maintenance.
Yeah, bodily functions. I'm just embracing mine in public. We all do all sorts of shit.
Talk to me.
I just feel like we should be waltzing around to the room, like The Room, to this song. Like always, having said I've never played this live, I mean, in the last 3 seconds since I started playing it feels like a waltz.
Okay. Never neglect the mirror of your head in the clouds in favor of your desires of being unstoppable. Melted with stream and full of current, asking to turn old top and sin. They broke clean, I could not hold out if not for forsaking my woman. R-O-B-Y-N. R-O-B-Y-N. A blip's in the passing of peace and a turn of tide in the clamor of me and I. Keep all your seats. Dot all the i's in my name if you'd have it facing downstream. You are no salmon, will play with small statues when all counters fall through the cracks. Feu de l'Indonie. Feu. Remains. Feu de l'Indonie. Feu. Remains.
R-O-B-Y-N.
From the font of your youth to the drawer of your slips, past the box hedge-rows and the rearing of new saws. O-B-Y-N. Hunch over my page and fill up my quill. Ravage my days, take your fill. O-B-Y-N. Feet and on your