I was down at the rail yards. There had just been a tremendous accident. I saw. Blood. I turned away. But. I knew the blood was on fire. I breathed into the bag that held my lunch. After dumping my lunch to the ground. To try to catch a fresh breath. It didn’t work. The screaming died down from time to time. The clanging. And rattling. The industrial soundscape of the rail yards was alive. But some were dead. I ate my lunch next to the river. Which was next to the rail yards. It was hummus and some vegetable. I’ve forgotten which one. The smell of of burnt blood was distracting so.
“DSM” showcases the many individual styles of Brockton’s Van Buren Records
It has been a fruitful 18 months for the Brockton super-collective Van Buren Records. Their two 2021 records, Bad For Press and Black Wall…