stenchofdogma:

Environments/ Syndrome concert last night - some thoughts

“I want to write, but out comes foam,

I want to say so much and I mire;

there is no spoken cipher which is not a sum,

there is no written pyramid, without a core.”

 

Syndrome

I had a dream last night…

It was a strange little dream, it did not come from within, it was sitting outside, homeless and it was looking for a place, to warm its little frozen fingers in. It was looking to melt and tell me a story.

Now and Forever

I will not wonder. Maybe with this I shall be taking away a little of the artist’s sight, I might as well replace it with mine. For that I apologize, alas it’s a sight.

It seemed like kids were gathering around the stage, waiting for the story to be told. By a man, sitting there on a chair in the dark, clutching a guitar. I would share my dream. Just this once.

The journey. An allegory of human apathy and loneliness. The man sitting on the beach watching the waves, watching the “lights” drift off, saying goodbye. But is he? He’s still holding within his hands, those icy hands, the rope – the connection between “here” with “there”. Is he immersing the self that’s Lazarus unbound?

Is the horse drowning or understanding it can swim? Is the girl who’s clenching herself among the rocks disengaged with life or is she breathing the “blindness”? Is the man sitting in the rain weeping or is the rain painting a universe on his despondent features?

The little boy walking around the museum dressed in a wolf/coyote costume, amongst the stuffed formerly breathing wolf or coyotes exhibits. Is he trying to crawl his way into “this” life? He’s hood is not drawn over his head as we walks the corridor, so did he just realize that we can walk the path not towards “this” but towards “everything” “anything”?

Do not lose yourself in the hunt

It’s an echo..

Is it possible that isolation reunites the pieces and is not the hammer that breaks bodies? Is loneliness the builder of multiple selves? Even the ones who are not there? As we die here, is breathing accelerating somewhere else? The end is white and water is covering the hopelessness, but thinking back at the first scene – the breathing, is it to be forgotten? Oh no. It’s not over. It’s not done. Find one piece of yourself in crumbliness and dissociation. Just “be” – alive? Now and forever.

“Where are the words to be found

Illuminated ones from the virgin sea

Words to open eyes

Words unhurt by tongues

concealed by the light-wise

for your inflamed Ascension

the words

that will draw a universe driven to silence”

Environments

Oh the exhaustion.

Yet we shall not crumble, still. The story was not over. But we were close enough. I could see the book covers being brought up on the stage. And there was something hidden behind them. A fusion of fraktals.

Having witnessed the act before in a slightly different setting, I can say the difference was crushing, to say the least. I felt out of breath after Sydrome’s beautiful journey, but now I was being drawn into a vortex where every single atom oozed. Sounds. I should have been sitting down to imagine the witnessing a movie. I should have been under the bear sky, covered by a blanket making “sense” or actually forgetting how to make sense. Linearity of thought should be absconded, when trying to breath in a music as diverse as this. I should have been reading a book at this book club, counting the rain drops as “An Unconditional Love for Bad Weather” whispers in my atonal ear. I sincerely can’t compare this band with anything I’ve heard so far. I know reviews should somehow give the readers a sense of what happened there, of how the music sounded like, in terms of technicality or not. Yet there is beauty in not understanding, of not making sense, of vagueness and illusion. So take these words as something describing the experience of starring at some unknown paintings on a wall, in a cave. Even if forged by a distant / divergent awareness, these figures will still awaken a melody in yours. You might transform that wall into anything. You can make it “yours”. And I guess here is where the essence of this album lies. The re-combination of apparently similar musical process directed towards the birthing of an indistinct alien entity. Creating complexity and change out of the simple and the common.

If you’re at home, the album might sound sound-scapish but if you’re there, in front of the book covers, in front of those hidden faces, you can discover the explosion. And you can exist within the crumbling boundaries of a conscious earthquake.

 

 

Le Voyage d’Er by ~sigu

inanis-et-vacua:

goatkult:

Gift from my parents. Summoning Stronghold DLP in gold with Silenius’ signature.

You have no idea how much envy I’m feeling at this moment. Stronghold is my favourite Summoning album. 

realmofplagues:

Bloodline

(Source: serpentinesibilance)