This is amazing. Music almost a hundred years old, faithfully preserved to the best of our technology. Forgotten sounds from a bygone era.

Recommendations:
If Winter Comes ( http://ia310940.us.archive.org/2/items/edba-4628/edba-4628_vbr.mp3 )
Under the Double Eagle March ( http://www.archive.org/download/edbw-19/edbw-19_vbr.mp3 )

I think there’s something beautiful in static, something wonderful and lost in audio corruption. Like a surrealist painting in sinewaves, as much the listener’s creation as the performers.

Hee, man, that sounds pretentious, but seriously - listen to them.

I’m driving in to work this morning, and I stop at a traffic light. And then I see to my horror that a woman is backing her minivan out from parking directly into me. I can’t go forward into oncoming traffic, and there’s a car hedging me in from behind. I honk my horn, I yell, I honk again and BAM she slams into my passenger-side door. She never looked back once.

At least the airbags didn’t go off, I guess. Just fucking great. Andrew’s first day of being 24 is off to a great start!

In the first Time of All Times, the galaxy lay cold and arid, like a pool undisturbed. From the swirling dust of a young star, arose the First People – and they were majesty and might and miracle across the fertile suns. They strove amongst the heavens and built a kingdom of great joy. Yet there was a sadness in them, for they looked upon the fertile garden, and found no one to share their joy with.

So they searched upon the limpid face of the galaxy, and birthed three lesser peoples, and gave them self-knowing, and raised them as their own children though they were not of the same tree of flesh.

To the First was given the Gift of Knowledge, and they were the Golden Tribe. To the Second was given the Gift of Power, and they were named the Iron Tribe. Last and greatest to behold was the Ivory Tribe, and to them was given the greatest gift, the Gift of Peace.

The First People danced and sang with their newborn children, and shared with them their struggles, their griefs, and the worlds, the winds and the stars. And the Tribes loved them as son loves father.

And in the fullness of time, the First People grew old, and restless, and looked deep and long into the unending blackness beyond the edge of the Stars.

So the First People gathered all their empire of suns, a thousand thousand worlds drawn like chariots by strings of stardust, and bid a proud goodbye to their children.

“Love us.” They said. “Remember us. And in time, raise children of the mind of your own.”

But as they turned, they heard behind them a heaven-reaving shout – and from a world unknown to them, a new Tribe, unaided, announced its fiery birth to the heavens with a mighty roar. The First People gazed in wonder at them, but in their heart of hearts they were made afraid.

To these people they did not give a Name. To these people, they did not give any Gift.

The First People drew together their world fleet and journeyed beyond, but they left their children this message writ across the stars: “Behold the Nameless Tribe. They have fashioned their own Gift, and its name is War – and they will share it with you, if they can.”