Previously available digitally, as well as limited runs on cassette and CD, this edition of the album is being presented in a 250 copy vinyl pressing. Mirage is a project manifested from the mind of Rocco Freedman, who, before moving to the desert of the Morongo Basin, was a member of Boston psychpunkers Banshee. Drawn to the desert by dreams of exotic lands since childhood, Freedman, also known as Cozmik, found himself in Twentynine Palms, just outside of Joshua Tree, and immediately felt a kinship with the land and set forth to bring 'Telepathic Radio' to fruition. Inspired by the desert's mysteries -the datura flower in particular- and driven by voices that existed in his head since his youth, Freedman single-handedly laid down hours of guitar, drum, and keyboard tracks and spent days recording excerpts from nature documentaries and canceled sitcoms. The end result, of course, being the album that sits before you now. Presented in mixtape fashion, or perhaps more accurately, a psychotropic sound collage lifted straight from Freedman's psyche, 'Telepathic Radio' is a wild sonic excursion that daringly teeters between torrents of fuzz addled angst, flourishes of kosmische-induced drones, and incredibly captivating melodies. It is certainly not a stretch to say that the listening experience is as schizophrenic as desert life itself, which can deliver pummeling burning furnaces by day and pastel streaked sunsets by night. Coinciding with this vinyl release is a video for 'TV Screens,' a sobering reminder that the desert is more than just a weekend road trip destination. It is often a place that reflects the fears and paranoia that come with living in a surveillance society. It is, after all, the roaming grounds of social misfits such as Hunter S. Thompson and Charles Manson. It is a setting full of swirling contradiction, chaos, delusion, and madness, all of which serve as running themes throughout 'Telepathic Radio,' revealing themselves through the music, dialogue, and layers of sound and samples. It's not an easy listen, and it's not supposed to be. It's like waking up in a room full of AM/FM radios and old television sets, all of them broadcasting the sounds and colors of late night talk shows, nature documentaries, listener call-in programs, and music videos. It's a well-crafted and unsettling experience, one that will reluctantly draw you in and yet somehow make you wish for more. Kind of like the desert itself.
