For AA Bondy, being a surfer is like being a musician: Both acts are ground in instinct. As a musician, however, Bondy is less interested in being the surfer than he is in being the wave.
“Have you ever ridden a horse?” he asks, by way of a comparison. “You know how that feels so odd? Like the hors...
Behind the red door in American skin
There is a murder of roses
In the midnight hiss come cover me there
Where I am electric nothing
Out on the tide strangers are drowning by
Under eclipse I wait for your kiss
With the beating of all these idiot hearts
No more evil now, no horror sound, no maniac song from a tyrant
And the surfer king will show me everything in the great green flash of the evening
Out on the tide, strangers, we ride
Smoke in our eyes
Under eclipse I wait for your kiss
With the beating of all these idiot hearts