Let’s make a collaborative Charming Disaster zine Friday Sept 17!

LIVESTREAM HERE!

The Chief Primatologist of The East Village Inky is DELIGHTED to be joining Charming Disaster, one of her favorite bands, for their weekly Quarantine Livestream, Friday September 17 at EST.

We’re gonna spice things up with a live collaborative project as we listen- illustrating Heart of Brass from their Spells + Rituals album. Grab a phrase and come prepared with a black pen and a piece of standard white printer paper, folded in half, portrait style (or the digital equivalent thereof), and for those who favor collage, a glue stick or rubber cement. FUN!

The lyrics are here, but I’ll paste em below, too.

If you’re worried about your artistic abilities, fret not. Whatever you make will be wonderful.

If you’re STILL worried about your artistic abilities, I took the liberty of snagging some images from the public domain of some of the jolly items namechecked by the song: a dirigible, a diving bell, laudanum… that sort of thing. Access them here!

Print em out and be ready to embellish them during our time together – collage, drawing, handwritten words…it’s all good!

Or go hunting in the public domain for images that speak to you.

After the livestream, be sure to email your creation to me and/or Charming Disaster as a jpeg or PNG file.

What will it become? A zine? A music video? A major sensation? Play along and see!

#charmingdisaster #zine

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Heart of Brass from SPELLS + RITUALS by Charming Disaster
© all rights reserved

In the dirigible’s gondola, the clouds fog up your monocle
You wipe it with a handkerchief embroidered with a monogram
Looking for lost continents, you’d better check your pocket watch
We won’t be home for luncheon but they’ll keep the platters warm

CHORUS:
Not as pure as gold (a captive of the scientist)
Not as sharp as glass (he practiced his/her experiments)
Not as strong as stone (flesh and blood will never last)
My baby’s got a heart of brass

Underneath the diving bell, return to the submersible
Before the lonely nautilus can wrap you in its tentacles
Moistening your handkerchief to polish your discoveries
The needle of the compass doesn’t point to any north

(Chorus)

Quince paste laced with laudanum will get you through the tedium
Of waiting to be rescued from inside the sanitarium
The esoteric brotherhood suspect you’re up to nothing good
The ampule in your handkerchief will put them all to sleep

We’re all some kind of machine
We’re only cogwheels, pistons and steam
All of us powered by water and heat
It makes our tick-tock hearts beat beat beat beat
Beat beat beat beat beat beat beat beat

The automaton forever sits, its hand upon the writing desk
Gently grips a fountain pen that circumscribes an arabesque
Deciphering the messages encrypted by the alchemist
A handkerchief will wipe away the secrets that it keeps

(Chorus)

Floating down the Amazon, we wonder if we’ve gone too far and
Plunge into the whirlpool at the basin of the waterfall
Scribbling this chronicle, the fog clouds up your monocle
A handkerchief can stopper up our message in a bottle
We have left it gently bobbing on the surface of the water
As we sail around the spiral into mystery or miracle
Cry into your scry glass, inquire of your oracle
Squint into your spyglass, you can see us wave farewell

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