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Всё таки есть что-то притягивающее в голландском подходе начала девяностых. Патрик Мамели выступил в качестве продюсера записи, что в свою очередь говорит о потенциале, увиденном этим заметным музыкантом в своих соотечественниках. Первое впечатление оформляется от рубленных ритмовых фраз, вплетённых в среднетемповое полотно угловатой подвижности. Видно, что группа не пытается выглядеть излишне пластичной в плане композиционного наполнения, предлагая по-своему путаный, но ровный эмоционально и гармонически материал. Меня привлекает поток подстёгивающих себя риффовых построений, равномерно распределённый по всему релизу, и создающий некое единое настроение во время звучания. Трэшевая сущность достаточно явственно проглядывает через характерные отрывистые части, придающие строгий оттенок материалу. Поддержание необходимой колкости ложится на плечи вокалиста, предлагающего скрипучий, но как и положено, суховатый стафф. Если бы не развитая структура техничного наполнения, то вполне можно было бы говорить о лонгплее как о результате работ, направленных на получение классического подхода в трэше. Рискну предположить, что основой для определённых гармонических форм, строящих основную мелодическую линию, послужил релиз 90-го от Artillery. Хотя по большому счёту это спорное мнение, потому что подобные построения с долей меланхолической лёгкости (и в тоже время отдалённо напоминающие восточный колорит), могут говорить о многообразных источниках инспирации. Возвращаясь к общим показателям по описываемому альбому, хочется отметить достойный уровень исполнения и компоновки материала, правда без чёткого профиля своеобразия. Неизменным остаётся одно - такой релиз приятно иметь в коллекции и периодически не без удовольствия переслушивать. |
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consuming the fruits of ill virtue
Personifying the sickening nature of man's lechery
lusting society's forbidden fruit
loving in uncaring detachment
creativity sacrificed to a world of conventions
hedonism existing in a maelstorm of lies
2. A Serenade For The Tragic
A dream become a creed, a want become a need
a serenade for the tragic
a lover self confessed, a circle truly blessed
emotional hegemony
Sanity on a shoestring, a tripwire tragedy
oscillation between extremes
of agonizing sumblimity and sublime agony
Skirting reality with holistic perceptions
absorbtion of truths
wanted as evidence and evidently unwanted
An unprotected sensitivity, a capacity to drink poisons
gladly court oblivion
by loving with death and dying to love
Desires pursued to their bloody ends
and compulsive denial
of unpopular possibilities and unasked for reality
3. Suffer The Shadows
I'm seeing the parts in me
that which I hate to see
suffer the shadows
suffer the shadows
The child inside weep for my life
for such bitter twisted dreams
the fool by her side could never see lies
any economy of truth he believed
Blind to compassion
I shall suffer the shadows in my past
depressed and saddened
I shall pay my debt to nature
The mother insode feels my sadness and pain
in this growing pool of desire
the father by her side could never have cared
cold blooded he lived as a liar
4. The Way Of All Flesh
Severed from unearthly mythomania
I lay to rest te ghosts of past seductions
leaving false paradises unfathered
I sing swan songs for stability
No quarter for facade, falsity shall go the way of all flesh
the way of all flesh, of all flesh
Desiring life from my emotional mortality
I lick the wounds of sexual openings
becoming spiritual and libidinal
I breathe life into this union taking flesh
At one with the clean breasts of sensory delight
I endear myself to this mutual growth
leaving feelings of restraint unmothered
I plunge into meta-sensivity
Pistols at dawn for my pseudo sanity
I filt unfettered through an erotic fantasy
becoming luminous and emotive
I understand all seven heavens
5. Chinese Whispers
Utterance of a word to give form
to give being all
corrupted by aeons of interpretation
misinterpretation of all
No longer a path back to that which once was
now a suicidal game of chinese whispers of god
The word mutated: a phrase of fallacy
the phrase a law that rules our lives: insanity
Assimilate myriad delusions
seek the whispered word
behind the roars of ingorance
Seek the path back to that which once was
no more futile fumblings for a misunderstood god
6. Soon Ripe, Soon Rotten
He that lives in hope, dances to all ill tune
for wantonness knows no law
and corporations have neither bodies to be punished
nor souls to be damned
the road to oblivion is paved with good intentions
and work incentives
In the world of the blind
the one eyed man makes corporations
corporations leaving sickness
which can't be cured which must be endured
One funeral brings many in civilised society
a society soon ripe, soon rotten
A guilty conscience needs no accuser
but silence is mistaken for consent and to erris human
drive out nature with a pitchfork and she'll neither come back
nor breathe for us again
the road of oblivion is paved with good intentions
and momentary lapses of reason
7. Gather The Shattered
Internal descent down every ladder in existence
lie naked with the dragon-no interest in resistance
to give myself vision where I was blind
I trip the trigger and detonate my mind
Fragmented memories and kaleidoscopic visions
reality is mutable and open to revision
seek the supersonic become one with all
immerse myself in the ocean of my soul
Gather the shattered remains of thoughts
thought mattered
redefine my world
debris is scattered, a fleeting glimse of the hereafter
liberates any soul
Lost in myself, alone I stand
searching for a death of moments
divine and mundane reconciled. I live
The world realigns and begins to take form
breathless and weak yet alive, reborn
experiment or experience? Rejoice or regret?
Only one way to know as I take my first steps
8. My Soul Frayed Bare
Picture a man with his life in his hands
consumed by the death of his dreams
clutching at straws he dreams no more
a desolate figure, I am he
my agony fuelled by the shadows I ruled
I hide from the world in the dark
outwardly sane, I conceal my pain
life's touch cold steel in my heart
Wanting fearing facing life alone
I'm not hearing your reasons, so leave me alone
I'm on the brink of insanity, I think
consumed by flames of desire
the two-faced divinity a victim of tragedy
the flames now its funeral pyre
but the death still walks and the divinity talks
I'm facing it day by day
each glimse a hell I've come to know so well
see the idealist pay
Assaulted by the day, my inner world's grey-desolation
I'll take what I can though I hate what I am-abomination
alcoholic retreat instead of facing defeat-rejection
narcotic escape before it's too late-deception
I've invested my soul in achieving this goal
made pacts sworn oaths taken vows
I never realized each pact has two sides
what hope for my soul now?
we're both still here, one light one dark
though the cyclone now lies dead
so let's both dream of things we won't see
of worlds that will never be said