STREETSWEEPER

Dom Mooney • Stix - STREETSWEEPER

[STREETSWEEPER FT STIX - 0:00]

You awake in a chamber of sorts. Lots of clanking, strange machinery clanking and belling in a sort of quartet of contractions in C Minor. Light beams blast through the metal shell wherever it's armor pierced, then a voice floats into the medley....

[Dom Mooney 0:00-0:25]

"I keep comin cross the map keep the strap down in texas

find connection for the web just to check the investments

snatch the collar on his neck just to send his investments

a lot of the time it be the Threat that's the deadliest weapon"

The confidence in the cadence causes you to calm some. Sounds like it's rattling through this steel frame from above you where the light stabs through.

You climb up some small step ladder welded into the wall and pop open the top hatch.

Emerging up you find yourself between two fellas, embroidery on their sleeves respectively reads "Dom Mooney" to the right and "Stix" manning the open-aired steering apparatus.

The machine continues it's tirade but is joined by Stix's apparent retort to the previous -

[Stix 1:22-1:39]

"*BEEEEEEEEEELCH*

i touch ceilings i jump off floors

the heated seats in the honda broke, of course they did

i hopped off the porch and was greeted by the wilderness

i said black coffee - i like the fuckin bitterness"

The two bounce banter off each other like they are well attuned to this moment, scene and machine.

The thing lurches a few more blocks as you pass a couple joints around the three of you. It comes to an abrupt stop outside some walk-down club.

[UP THE SCORE 0:00]

Sliding through the entrance behind Dom and the now silent Stix, piano trills bang off walls and counter tops. The cabaret is a pot in a boil, the atmosphere thick and electric. The hummingbird of a singer weaves melody over some bass shots.

In a blink Dom Mooney has slid on stage, comfortable and welcomed.

[Dom Mooney 0:47]

"My windows boarded when im hoardin all this shit in my chest

then i record get back to normal get some shit on my cheques

i aint feelin them texts, i'm pickin cars up

my lady said i get in the habit of puttin' walls up"

Stix on the double bass punctuates hits in his right hand with the pulse of the kick. The stakes in the room are steadily raising as the din adjusts focus and eyes are locked on stage. There's a heavy rumble of anticipation in the section.

[PARA(NOIA)DISE 0:00]

There's shuffling somewhere off to the only accessible exit....

"Tony, we've got to get out of here"

Must be some lost tourist. The tension doesn't waver. Dom calls for one more. Stix has migrated to stabbing the six stringed axe. An octopus in an octacoat handles percussion.

[Dom Mooney 1:05]

"bleed my heart on this

bumpin tha Carter the sequel is part of me

still pushin forward i feel like a starter three

rented a charter to check me in Charlottetown"

The crowd is taken by the rhetorician and his velvet tones. Not really sure what the nature of this place it but it almost feels like something not of this life, some sort of...spiritual waiting room. While you can't quite put your finger on it the slamming of the piano lid down causes some distortion both in audio and visual

[PARA(NOIA)DISE 1:52]

"I'llllllllllll missssssssss youuuuuuuu"

Dom and Stix move in sly harmony slivering through the silhouettes. The place starts melting like the Cave of Wonders from that Aladdin cartoon.

As the club swallows the memory of itself, the three of you step outside. Like some side street Penn + Teller illusion act Dom flicks a blunt straight into your lips, Stix lights it with the snap of his fingers.

You inhale as they mount their rugged beast and it chugs back to life, as it lurches out of site you exhale and read on it:

"STREETSWEEPER - DOM MOONEY • STIX"

FUCK THE STREET SWEEPING TICKETS BUT LISTEN TO THIS ALBUM NOW RIGHT HERE