1-24-20 In Synthesis with Infinite Is

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This week on In Synthesis we first listen to the live group improvisational set from the first Stage 33 Live Second Saturday Synthfest featuring: 
Brendan Rooney, Max Adam, Malcolm McShinsky and JD Ryan of Five Before Chaos and of course Evan Parks and Jeff Ramen of Infinite Is
Then we review some live Infinite Is recordings and have a gander at the local area happenings.

This is a live recording of the psychedelic closing group improv set from the first ever Second Saturday Synthfest at Stage 33 Live in Bellows Falls Vermont on 1-11-2020.
  • Brendan Rooney, Max Adam, Malcolm McShinsky and JD Ryan of Five Before Chaos, Evan Parks and Jeff Ramen of Infinite Is Group improv set, Stage 33 live second Saturday Synthfest 1-11-20
  • Infinite Is – Ping In The Depths
  • Infinite Is – The Disco Neptune
  • Infinite Is – All The Kings Horses
Plunging through the ice and into the depths of the great ocean of Enceladus the space yacht Royale motored happily along sinking gracefully, fathom by fathom toward the subterranean network of cave highways that connect the underground cities where the bureaucracy servers of the great Biovatar empire directs the coordination of the steady stream of updates that are broadcast from the massive dish antenna built into Herschel crater on Mimas. Hugh stealthily pulls into the air pocket of a lonely rest area in an old disused entrance to the city of Pleabus and stands by for the long awaited moment to arrive. The nearby traffic sings through the fluid making him uneasy as he counts the minutes while practicing his plumber routine even though he knows full well that his deception will be successful.
VTMUSIC





The first time it happened nobody was quite sure what to think of the limos full of gangster chickens flooding into every entrance of the club, purposefully throwing their rose colored sunglasses down onto the damp pavement, the murmuration was clucking excitedly to one another in anticipation of the bloodbath that was soon to follow.
Someone had fatefully crossed the powerful cabal of chickenbot timeship pilots and so was about to die a gruesome death of a thousand cuts as their titanium beaks and talons shredded the flesh from their bones.
Room by room the chickenbots stalk their victim through the clubs complex maze of rooms, quietly surging through the hotel restaurant and into one of the many exclusive luxury private rooms upstairs. By repeatedly jumping back into spacetime, through methodical trial and error, they found the exact moment in time when their prey made the decision to wrong them, leaving him only moments to contemplate the implications of his unfortunate act of defiance.
King Thetafluori wondered out loud at the spectacle that is a sheering of spacetime, “where could they possibly be going?” Sortie after sortie scream into the wall of shimmering, undulating, lensing liquefied Higgs field. Admiral Shmatloch fixes her gaze, glowering down the binoculars, “you mean WHEN could they possibly be going?!”
Confused reports continued to come in from across the great arc of the spacetime front, of a giant menacing space chopper riding robot belching this curtain of poisonous, radioactive breech.
The massive robot twists his Dragonfist on the throttle rhythmically, resonating the wailing fusion pulse jet into standing waves, cavitating the very fabric of reality in a cascade of rising bubbles, like the bubble nets of the earth whales. But instead of gobbling up huge mouthfuls of fish, he nets fighter jets and one damaged, wayward timeship.

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