Who We Are!!
"A sparkling hearts and stars with a jolly roger smash up, a boots and barefoot stomping jingly jangly clatter of a trash band"Spoke Pants of the Flowering Skillet is an acoustic six piece folk band, based in the Arkansas/Missouri Ozark Mountains. The music is a combination of traditional folk/bluegrass tunes, pirate shanty's, anarcho folk-punk, and gypsy. All six members (Armed with a banjo, guitar, washboard, mandolin, fiddle, tambourine, accordion and shakers) share singing and songwriting, giving each of their originals a unique sound finding similarity in their inspiration from political folk musicians ranging from Woody Guthrie to Riot Folk.
This rag-tag trash band formed in the summer of 2008 during a shared adventure to the People's Networking Convention in Madison, WI and they're now planning their first tour for the summer of 2009.
For Questions, Comments, or Booking contact gnoll@riseup.net
Spoke Pants of the Flowering ...'s Blog
Hello Friends of the Flowering Skillet,
We are currently in the process of uploading songs for everyone to download for free on
www.last.fm.
Most of our recordings are taken from live shows, our apologies for the quality, but we
are currently seeking to make better recordings of our songs (we have enough originals now for an album!). If you have anything to kick down into our hat or know anybody that would like t…
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Posted on March 17, 2009 at 11:46am —
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"transferring data"
sunrise made us stammer
inevitably
caught up with the concept of time
actually passing
day returning
while you're too fucked up to call it out by name
extend it harsh words
coffee
sunglasses
it's like another blank page being too much to handle right now
there's too much that belongs there
it's not easy to see that far ahead when we are
right here....x
for what it's worth,
i made it through spring, too
conversation got tedious
as the air grew heavier with approaching summer
there's still time.
we could do some more searching before the world collapses
i know you've been there,
and i've been on my way for miles.
it took long enough
or too long-
balanced precariously on wires and stones
with street names and intricate body language
we spoke of directions, passing a cigarette in the rain-
explained how we'd learned to tread water
more defiantly
since we realized that's really all there is
if you break it down,
a good compass and no map
just hope like hell you'll get there
...
hope our paths cross again some beautiful day- i'm heading back to my dirty Atlantic for the summer.
much love, and luck
and even more dreams.
always
-allie dreads = hope
Stella