"Like Ty Segall and Tame Impala hijacked the Yellow Submarine. We have a sneaking suspicion it will be our soundtrack for the summer and beyond." (The Revue)

"A psych-rock smash up with thoughtful lyrics and a decent grasp on socio-demographic politics. In other words, a switched on, savvy and talented band. Get into this." (Fresh On The Net)

"Both a striking ode to nature, in particular trees, and a wake-up call for all those who are in denial...We need bands like these right now who emphasize those urgent world problems." (Turn Up The Volume!)

the mighty orchid king has been like a rampike in the wilderness disintegrating and decaying but still resisting — kerouac’s spontaneous song from the mountains still peels through the rusty air — but pulled apart by restless tides of mind and unable to keep feet on the ground or eyes closed — only a fool would sit in silence and temper these waves but the clever fool finds the board and rides to shore without being overwhelmed by the onslaught — seeking green counsel waiting for a different world to spin out of the magic carpet of the night trusting the silent conversation of slowly realising forms is what the world really needs to heal just articulated over a thousand years — endlessly ruminates the meaning of the empty space — if all the clouds dissolved and the colours too the clutches and pictures became rendered in this empty space would our problems melt away if we all realised this kindness will conduct an everyday ballet — everyday is a radical opportunity we can be infinitely compassionate and kind to everyone we meet bring a love so overwhelming befriending every moment — but think on the wheezing lungs of the living earth

snakehead curse has deepened and now forms a split between allegiances to the world and to sanity — if only the rumbles above could cease could lie with these dreams a while longer might make them reality there is a code somewhere that is never reached — dark days rolling in again wading through planting flowers in the depleted soil sees the suffering and turns inwards before seeking empty bliss free from the trifles of the world — falling back into old ways knowing it cannot last — the land was parched for months at a time and ran following the water’s course as a flowing sense of stability while all else began to fragment —this could be a way to spend the days running scared unsure of what those hills might usher in moving endlessly listening to the rhythms of nature and respecting the terrain until runner and landscape began to merge — finds comfort in the ancient rhythm of the trees but it is an electrified forest buzzing with new possibilities new ways of seeing — complete psychedelic experience ideas arrived faster than could be comprehended — long-held fascination about human kindness in nature smiles and passing comments about the weather — hashtags and tie-ins commit to one hundred days of lotus meditation — the flicker of the imagination as footfall unearths some ancient spirit from the ground — opened the screen again not changing the world but pouring heart everything has been done but we still have a great deal more healing to do — deep intention for the now take the seeds of Metta and apply it give my pieces away and not expect a fair return to give is to be content

the samana pulled from slumber in the spiritland to the wastes behind drawn in by an old flicker of the moon daughter who paints a picture so vivid it’s like dreams returning and a marauding gang of peace warriors — a gang a community renewed again by our improvised conversations this week powerful energy runs through our veins — we are in tune with each other attend to our ways — you are of the earth — you are soil nothing more and the earth is screaming for you to return to roll in the mud for the endless connections — you will awaken the wisdom the knowledge that we are building ourselves out of — burn the machines the ones that decimate the ancient trees we thought the world would listen — the rifles of this revolution will be the very fabric of this land peaceful trees radicalised by an unknown hand to shake loose the colonisers for good — under a beautiful new sky take the infrastructure and share it for all — a utopia in the heart of darkness blossomed into the most magical evening bringing mad joy and fever to the bridge surrounded by colour plants and movement dancers interweave us like tendrils sun beat across faces and the city in april smiling — making plans on the bridge like some drunks in the broken city — happiness is reserved for those fleeting moments — drums lead the way take all the buzzing masses to the queen bee of the land but fled to a different hive — her voice is electric

there was something worth expressing but it wasn’t unique — only version was something no one else could say a fire that will only ever light once then burn away — the secret is we all have treasure locked away so often untouched by the rituals in our lives and loves that it goes unspoken a vital puzzle piece goes missing delaying our salvation for another generation we have stories to tell even if we fear or positively despise them and it is our duty while on the earth to let them out as song words images movement or a psychedelic combination of all senses firing at once — spontaneity is the door to understanding — dream the passing night a mountain rise strive to hold place to establish roots to be there as a place for others to land to look back sometimes setting aside what feels golden these obsessions will one day turn dust so will all - trying to pour into a space more eternal forgiving loving endless drift into the patchwork of the night at the limits of our imaginations we are sailing through the very limits of our imagined universe farther out the impossible is a reality swirling chaos beneath which some sacred essence must lurk but for whom is this spectacle what use is a painting if we may only inhabit one stroke of the canvas

now more than ever need to relight the beacons — conjure up a mantra for the earth and for humans the integration of people and land and the magical mystery that is life and why it’s worth protecting — plant the seeds of wild culture learn the wild improvisations of nature — open conversations dialogues awaken the deep parts of your fragility — the story moves on when we can witness the teaching in our bones

the end of all of this
will be compassion for all things
including the self
i hope to love without harming without conditions