A Call For All Demons (Live)

by Xenat-Ra

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To celebrate Sun Ra's 100th birthday, we are giving away a live version of his composition "A Call For All Demos," recorded in concert at The Majestic Theatre in Corvallis, OR, on October 6th, 2012. Trombonist Joe Freuen (Cherry Poppin' Daddies, Thomas Mapfumo) joined us for this concert, and is featured on this track. Enjoy!


released May 22, 2014

Composed by Sun Ra, © Enterplanatery Koncepts (BMI), used by permission

Monk Metz: words
Matt Calkins: tenor sax, FX
Joe Freuen: trombone
Mark France: guitar
Dave Trenkel: keyboards, Moog
Joel Hirsch: percussion
JD Monroe: drums



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Track Name: A Call for All Demons (Live)
She spoke, she spoke.
She spoke and no one missed a note.

Chief smoke, chief smoke.
Chief smoke, hold your breathe until you float.

C-note, c-note.
Hundred dollar bill gone before you know.

Remote, remote.
Remote control your brain with a brand and a slogan.

Slang cliche with the fangs on display. A gang of remakes. Show no teeth and hang the DJ, unless he's weird like Kang and Kodos. Angsty flows blow up but don't go pop, nice in the night in the late-late time slot. My fans have webbed hands, or expired warranties, or X's for eyes, or problems with authority, or bitches brew with empty glasses (already drank it). Metz much like paper (white) owls with the trees densely packed in. Tense reaction. I leave stages in flames and audience in traction. Proletariat class action. Hey! Don't let them close your caption.


Shipped from the four corners, as rare as Kerouac riding bareback on a scarab's path. Raul Duke, howling at spooks, befouling the starch in collars. I turn weaker tunes into ether fumes, harken to ballers. I Pied Piper lives down the lane, to drown in flames. The fried mic'r tried to shroud the stage and clouds, but the crowd complained, didn't have the weekend to waste. Murking thru the fog deep, chasing rabbit holes, running from the long sleep. my cuddies are casual claim-stakers on comets. My homies are harbors for art, my armor is sonic. Your rap is pantomime pandemonium, as if they'd clap to hear the rhymes of the phony ones, laughing all the way to the bank with a bag of bricks, and one for the executive nitwit. Who took a pill today? CEO's on drugs. Our music's our only one.