Ancient History

This album sounds like survival when survival sounds like an echo, an opiate longing.  If we met a creature post-massacre, who professed the secret to surviving the infinite, how would we respond?  This album descends as a cataract over desire.  Without the will to survive, no memories, no brief hints of senseless walks and the rhythm that continues post mortem, where do we go, where is the path to nothingness?  There is sadness that heavily moves and provokes.  This album is this sadness, the kind that never goes away but is possible to live with and that offers, in it’s way, subcutaneous wisdom.  You can choose to accept it.

These are songs that coexist with loss and reach completion under 7 feet of bathwater. They are the proverbial emergence out of nowhere that cast the timeless glow of autumn. The basic components of life that do not change, that are lived for and against.  These are the same agents that deliver sudden news of birth or loss, spontaneous recall, words quietly spoken by a doctor that will determine your fate.

Why not live in darkness, so long as the darkness is considered with patience and honest analysis?  Reflection, the part of life bearing light, is necessary.  However, the radiance is no substitution for the trust it takes to move one’s body through the dark, the heightened awareness of sharp objects that plague the background of this album.  A jagged piano. Memories of moments saturated with 1 am.  A possible drowning.  The moments that threaten to protrude, enter into conscious oblivion at any moment, there is no safe bet.  We learn to call this chase survival.  The sound of moving tissue.

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