Bear the Astronot is Turntable Kachina.........
February 12th, 1980 in the mountains of Flagstaff Arizona a child is born to Daniel Cole and Kathleen Gallagher. This child is named Running-Bear. He is called little "hoonaw" by the Hopi, and shash by the Navajo (Dine). He is raised beneath the towering ponderosa pines of Grand Canyon National Park. He spends many hours watching the sun (Hopi:Sun=Taawa) set throwing colors in some kind of Jackson Pollack fit across the jutting cliffs of the canyon, and many nights beneath the glowing moon (Hopi:Moon=Muuyaw) On nights such as these, as the Sun sleeps and the moon takes position midway in the sky, a symphony of crickets and nocturnal creatures join force with the wind and trees, and together they sing until morning. These sounds, the sounds of the canyon, were embedded in young Running-Bear's head.
Jet forward years into the future.......Bear is now the text book starving artist. Years of gigs, and nights spent commanding dance floors, have faded into ghost images across dimly lit photographs. He was a DJ when vinyl actually mattered, he began as an MC when Chuck "D" still mattered more than cough syrup. Stacked and cluttered in the corner of a tiny two bedroom apartment, Bear has built an operational project studio. Here he concocts a pulsing brew of Hip Hop, Electronic, and Future Rock tracks. The song of the canyon has been well muted by roaring combustion engines, electric buzzes, and the industrial static of the city. Now, Bear the Astronot, searches for meaning and peace in an alien world.
A night of deadlines complete, foraging through paperwork inventing release strategies for his new Hip Hop Album Cricket Songs, Bear the Astronot scratches his chin.....apparently he needs a shave. He asks himself, "Where am I" and as he does deep in mental reverb echoes a Talking Heads loop of "How did I get here." "How did I get here?" "How did I get here?" he asks himself. As he ponders, out of his peripheral vision a kachina appears as almost a slamming of particles and matter at that very moment. It stands in traditional dancing form, holding a well crafted wooden snake, casting a shadow across the turntable atop which it sits. He scans his surroundings. Dusty zig-zagging stacks of vinyl topped with the Hopi "Badger" Kachina. A "Mud Head" Kachina with cylinder eyes footed on the corner of a silver Korg Triton. A weathered Digi 001, on top of which sits a 2' "Snake dancer" and at it's feet a family heirloom "Thunderbird" necklace. The story goes that this necklace was made by Navajo's who after the long walk were given vinyl records by the U.S. government as gifts. These records were rendered useless because not many hogans have any source of electricity, probably zero hogans at this time. The Dine used these records to make jewelry, and sold them back to the biliguana's.
"This is how I got here," a voice whispers in his ear. It must have been the wind. Clear as the night sky over the Grand Canyon a name dances just like the traditional Kachina into his head. On that night tucked snugly into the dining room of a two bedroom apartment in Phoenix, Arizona "Turntable Kachina" is born.
The rest is legend.
February 12th, 1980 in the mountains of Flagstaff Arizona a child is born to Daniel Cole and Kathleen Gallagher. This child is named Running-Bear. He is called little "hoonaw" by the Hopi, and shash by the Navajo (Dine). He is raised beneath the towering ponderosa pines of Grand Canyon National Park. He spends many hours watching the sun (Hopi:Sun=Taawa) set throwing colors in some kind of Jackson Pollack fit across the jutting cliffs of the canyon, and many nights beneath the glowing moon (Hopi:Moon=Muuyaw) On nights such as these, as the Sun sleeps and the moon takes position midway in the sky, a symphony of crickets and nocturnal creatures join force with the wind and trees, and together they sing until morning. These sounds, the sounds of the canyon, were embedded in young Running-Bear's head.
Jet forward years into the future.......Bear is now the text book starving artist. Years of gigs, and nights spent commanding dance floors, have faded into ghost images across dimly lit photographs. He was a DJ when vinyl actually mattered, he began as an MC when Chuck "D" still mattered more than cough syrup. Stacked and cluttered in the corner of a tiny two bedroom apartment, Bear has built an operational project studio. Here he concocts a pulsing brew of Hip Hop, Electronic, and Future Rock tracks. The song of the canyon has been well muted by roaring combustion engines, electric buzzes, and the industrial static of the city. Now, Bear the Astronot, searches for meaning and peace in an alien world.
A night of deadlines complete, foraging through paperwork inventing release strategies for his new Hip Hop Album Cricket Songs, Bear the Astronot scratches his chin.....apparently he needs a shave. He asks himself, "Where am I" and as he does deep in mental reverb echoes a Talking Heads loop of "How did I get here." "How did I get here?" "How did I get here?" he asks himself. As he ponders, out of his peripheral vision a kachina appears as almost a slamming of particles and matter at that very moment. It stands in traditional dancing form, holding a well crafted wooden snake, casting a shadow across the turntable atop which it sits. He scans his surroundings. Dusty zig-zagging stacks of vinyl topped with the Hopi "Badger" Kachina. A "Mud Head" Kachina with cylinder eyes footed on the corner of a silver Korg Triton. A weathered Digi 001, on top of which sits a 2' "Snake dancer" and at it's feet a family heirloom "Thunderbird" necklace. The story goes that this necklace was made by Navajo's who after the long walk were given vinyl records by the U.S. government as gifts. These records were rendered useless because not many hogans have any source of electricity, probably zero hogans at this time. The Dine used these records to make jewelry, and sold them back to the biliguana's.
"This is how I got here," a voice whispers in his ear. It must have been the wind. Clear as the night sky over the Grand Canyon a name dances just like the traditional Kachina into his head. On that night tucked snugly into the dining room of a two bedroom apartment in Phoenix, Arizona "Turntable Kachina" is born.
The rest is legend.
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