Does anyone remember awhile back when I posted a story that used many of the lyrics from FS? Well recently I decided to try and put them online for a more broader audience, so I decided to put it up as an article on the zine that I write for, it (and a agalloch story) can be found here: http://cp05.ionhosting.com/~joelh/article11.htm or go to http://www.lunarhypnosis.cjb.net/ and go to articles. And for those who are lazy and or hate clicking on links, here it is:
Dvergmal Volume 1
Often times when I write a review I end up feeling like I have told you nothing about the CD. It is a very annoying feeling. It just feels that what ever I say in words to describe an album in inadequate. It is also very restricting when I am trying to review/tell you about the CD/music. To describe music in words is well impossible. All I can do is give you my opinion. But what if I can transgress this barrier? I have decided to instead of tell you, to show you the music. What I mean by this is, well I believe that most music tries to capture something in it, and I try to put that something into words, in a form of a story/poem/other literary way. I know this may sound strange, and even I don't really know if others will like this, but I have some ideas and I want to see the response of the metal community. If appreciated this form of literature could transgress he boundaries of music and literary art. It could either work or be a failure, read on and decide.
This piece is highly inspired by the Forest Stream album Tears Of Mortal Solitude. It incorporates many elements of the album, the feel, and especially the lyrics. Many of the lines are taken from the lyrics themselves and changed just a bit to make stuff fit in. In fact most of the last paragraph is written by Sonm, the lyrics writer/vocalist of the band. This story is called Last Season Purity.
Last Season Purity:
In a busy room filled with much laughter and noise there sat a man by the fire. Unlike the others in the room he sat completely alone and did not join in the merriness of the rest of the room. No one talked to him and he talked to no one. His name no one remembered, everyone called him simply, Naitain. In the old tongue Naitain meant simply the only one, but in an older language it had another meaning, the one watcher. Everyone in the room knew this but no one cared. It didnt matter to them who this man was or who he was waiting for. They only cared about the present, the past be damned for all they cared.
Suddenly a thunderous roar went up through the room and complete silence followed. The man stood up raised his staff and another roar erupted from out of nowhere. At this he seemed content and strode out the door. The door No one had ever gone out it before; no one knew what was beyond it. All there ever was is the room.
In a few moments everyone went back to talking and laughing except for one man. He felt a new sensation burn in side him. It seemed to pull at him and consume him. He felt a desire like he had never felt before to go out the door and follow the old man. The young man tried making talk and laughing but nothing seemed to the same to him any more. The colors were less bright, the beer less tasty. To the young man each laugh became like a needle that shot right through him. After a few minutes the man walked out of the room and out the door.
Stepping out of the door the man found himself in a great snow capped forest, a frozen wonderland. In front of him stood the old man. The old man peered him for awhile before he started to speak, The moan... Who has remembered? Who is still able to remember about how they did dream and yearn, laugh and dance and then about how they were dying? How they flew towards the stellar worlds beyond the horizons of mind where all our laws are nothing at all. Maybe to dwell forgotten maybe once to return The young man stared at the old man before replying, Dark are thy eyes and dark is the soul of yours. What is it you know of them? Reveal to me their stories
Your soul knows of them, your very bones yearn for them. I know you feel them, as I do. And now as deep as never before I feel them call to me. From the brightest blaze from place where all the paths come to the end. They, the misunderstood ones, who wished a strange spell of winter magic. They who've left this world when the world was changed. The old man whispered. I know of what you speak. They too call to me. Let us sing the ancient spell, The young man said.
Grasping each others hands they spoke aloud in the old tongue, Embrace me with a winter blizzard. Give me the power of all the winds. In the serenity of the endless woods, unite me with my shadow Around them the snow began to blow and soon the entire forest was covered in a majestic blizzard, the likes the world had never seen. Around the world grew black and a vision, so clear, so pure, appeared in there minds. A endless column of black hooded men stood before them. One moved toward them but a doorway from the abyss opened up and he was lost in forever. These are the minds of all in the room. They have frozen minds which have been bred to be deaf to the ancient tunes... I grieve to think of lost wisdom of the centuries. Yet a time may yet come when the ancient melody may return and awaken these minds. the old man said. Now go, search for the word, the melody, so charming, so sweet, the poison of soul. My time is come. I have realized myself. The old man took a step and with a heart piercing scream sank into the abyss with a smile on his lips. Closing his eyes the young man listened and soon a word came to him. Mel Kor, was all he said. The world changed and he found himself far away beyond the blackest ocean of blood on the boundless scope of the lost mainland of Nameless Horror under pale nebulas united in mysterious runes. Around him nothing was. No beast, no bird, not even shade, time did not even seem to flow. All there seemed to be is fang-shaped towers of hollow torment that stand embraced by crimson flames ablaze in the heavens. Suddenly the young man knew where he must go.
From the land itself the young man heard, Kor me o antie tae taeirny!" The young man spoke aloud, to himself, to everyone, I see now the curse we have been blinded by for to long. In this dark time of this realm of damned we are condemned to grieve like gods of sorrow... I came to seek the wisdom no one ever did, yet here I dwell for winds of destiny persuade my mortal being to stay forever with this strange beauty Leave me, I've chosen. I take this day, this land, with all its hate and despair so lifeless, gray and exist less. I am in the last day among the lost days. Now I know my destiny, to remain here in this hell where I am the only lie, the forever lie like you are. I will remain here waiting for the sunrise, the step to the endless night. I see the last foot steps of mankind and weep in hope of their salvation.
He was standing before the open mouth of The Abyss... It was just a step between him and his roaring oblivion. Tongues of crimson-dark flame were beckoning him: ...Come... come... for your pain to be vanquished forever! But suddenly a graceful melody started to dance around his suffering soul and body. It was descending from the dream-holes of the ancient church he was standing in the middle of. He took a deep breath of the frosty air and stepped away from the burning edge...
The pain was leaving him and he asked Who are you? Hundreds of whispering voices answered Hushhhhh!!! Don't say a word, just listen... don't you hear that winter is on his way? It's coming and we are her silent envoys! As the voices faded away the man heard one last thing, Just smile and watch the storm advent Sitting down on the cold black stone the man sat back and watched.
END
All that I tried to do was capture the CD in words. I don't know if I succeeded or failed, but it is a start.
This next piece was heavily inspired by Agalloch's album, Pale Folklore. This piece may not capture the song as well as it possibly could, but it was more of an experimental piece. This one I am really not sure of, but I think that some Agalloch fans may enjoy it. Anyway, this was heavily inspired by Dead Winter Days, and is indeed called Dead Winter Days.
Dead Winter Days:
Cruel dead winter days are all that I have seem to have known in the past few months. For months I have awoken from deep slumber by your now silent voice echoing within these ebony halls of twilight. Nothing now moves in these forsaken halls, only echoes of life. You hung yourself in the fall.
You abandoned me, left me here. Alone. For months I have lived here in your shadow. I have wandered these empty halls seeing you in my shadow. I see you everywhere I look, you linger in everyplace I go, but you are no where to be found.
Now all I do is yearn but for a taste of you. I lay in front of the fire place at night wishing to see your face once again. Sometimes amongst the flames I see the shadow of your face. At night I mourn for you. But with the dawn I begin to dig deeper my own grave.
It is these ebon hall of misery that consume me so! I can not forget you while they stand. Your image is etched in every corner, your mind in every light. Even though I am tempted to stoke this thought of you and taste you once again, I know it would not be the same. Instead I must destroy the beauty that once was you! I must burn these cursed halls! Fire shall cleanse all that has happened here. Then I can move on.
My hands still smell of the gasoline I used to start the fire. Everything is in flames. All the memories of you. You are in flames. And so am I. The rope also smells like the gasoline on my hands. Soon I shall join you. But one last question remains. On which of these oaken branches shall I hang myself? On the one you went on? Or mine? Have I moved on or am I still entranced with your frozen beauty. I am not over you! You are not over me! I place my rope on your bough and jump down. As I die the cold gray dawn comes over the lawn. The cruel dead winter is over.
END
Well that's all for now. Feedback is greatly welcomed, either in the forum or email me at Lockeed45@hotmail.com . Also, I am certain that I am not the only one who may be interested in this form of writing. If you are interested in helping develop it please contact me. Oh, and you can hopefully expect more of this soon.
Well what you think?
Dvergmal Volume 1
Often times when I write a review I end up feeling like I have told you nothing about the CD. It is a very annoying feeling. It just feels that what ever I say in words to describe an album in inadequate. It is also very restricting when I am trying to review/tell you about the CD/music. To describe music in words is well impossible. All I can do is give you my opinion. But what if I can transgress this barrier? I have decided to instead of tell you, to show you the music. What I mean by this is, well I believe that most music tries to capture something in it, and I try to put that something into words, in a form of a story/poem/other literary way. I know this may sound strange, and even I don't really know if others will like this, but I have some ideas and I want to see the response of the metal community. If appreciated this form of literature could transgress he boundaries of music and literary art. It could either work or be a failure, read on and decide.
This piece is highly inspired by the Forest Stream album Tears Of Mortal Solitude. It incorporates many elements of the album, the feel, and especially the lyrics. Many of the lines are taken from the lyrics themselves and changed just a bit to make stuff fit in. In fact most of the last paragraph is written by Sonm, the lyrics writer/vocalist of the band. This story is called Last Season Purity.
Last Season Purity:
In a busy room filled with much laughter and noise there sat a man by the fire. Unlike the others in the room he sat completely alone and did not join in the merriness of the rest of the room. No one talked to him and he talked to no one. His name no one remembered, everyone called him simply, Naitain. In the old tongue Naitain meant simply the only one, but in an older language it had another meaning, the one watcher. Everyone in the room knew this but no one cared. It didnt matter to them who this man was or who he was waiting for. They only cared about the present, the past be damned for all they cared.
Suddenly a thunderous roar went up through the room and complete silence followed. The man stood up raised his staff and another roar erupted from out of nowhere. At this he seemed content and strode out the door. The door No one had ever gone out it before; no one knew what was beyond it. All there ever was is the room.
In a few moments everyone went back to talking and laughing except for one man. He felt a new sensation burn in side him. It seemed to pull at him and consume him. He felt a desire like he had never felt before to go out the door and follow the old man. The young man tried making talk and laughing but nothing seemed to the same to him any more. The colors were less bright, the beer less tasty. To the young man each laugh became like a needle that shot right through him. After a few minutes the man walked out of the room and out the door.
Stepping out of the door the man found himself in a great snow capped forest, a frozen wonderland. In front of him stood the old man. The old man peered him for awhile before he started to speak, The moan... Who has remembered? Who is still able to remember about how they did dream and yearn, laugh and dance and then about how they were dying? How they flew towards the stellar worlds beyond the horizons of mind where all our laws are nothing at all. Maybe to dwell forgotten maybe once to return The young man stared at the old man before replying, Dark are thy eyes and dark is the soul of yours. What is it you know of them? Reveal to me their stories
Your soul knows of them, your very bones yearn for them. I know you feel them, as I do. And now as deep as never before I feel them call to me. From the brightest blaze from place where all the paths come to the end. They, the misunderstood ones, who wished a strange spell of winter magic. They who've left this world when the world was changed. The old man whispered. I know of what you speak. They too call to me. Let us sing the ancient spell, The young man said.
Grasping each others hands they spoke aloud in the old tongue, Embrace me with a winter blizzard. Give me the power of all the winds. In the serenity of the endless woods, unite me with my shadow Around them the snow began to blow and soon the entire forest was covered in a majestic blizzard, the likes the world had never seen. Around the world grew black and a vision, so clear, so pure, appeared in there minds. A endless column of black hooded men stood before them. One moved toward them but a doorway from the abyss opened up and he was lost in forever. These are the minds of all in the room. They have frozen minds which have been bred to be deaf to the ancient tunes... I grieve to think of lost wisdom of the centuries. Yet a time may yet come when the ancient melody may return and awaken these minds. the old man said. Now go, search for the word, the melody, so charming, so sweet, the poison of soul. My time is come. I have realized myself. The old man took a step and with a heart piercing scream sank into the abyss with a smile on his lips. Closing his eyes the young man listened and soon a word came to him. Mel Kor, was all he said. The world changed and he found himself far away beyond the blackest ocean of blood on the boundless scope of the lost mainland of Nameless Horror under pale nebulas united in mysterious runes. Around him nothing was. No beast, no bird, not even shade, time did not even seem to flow. All there seemed to be is fang-shaped towers of hollow torment that stand embraced by crimson flames ablaze in the heavens. Suddenly the young man knew where he must go.
From the land itself the young man heard, Kor me o antie tae taeirny!" The young man spoke aloud, to himself, to everyone, I see now the curse we have been blinded by for to long. In this dark time of this realm of damned we are condemned to grieve like gods of sorrow... I came to seek the wisdom no one ever did, yet here I dwell for winds of destiny persuade my mortal being to stay forever with this strange beauty Leave me, I've chosen. I take this day, this land, with all its hate and despair so lifeless, gray and exist less. I am in the last day among the lost days. Now I know my destiny, to remain here in this hell where I am the only lie, the forever lie like you are. I will remain here waiting for the sunrise, the step to the endless night. I see the last foot steps of mankind and weep in hope of their salvation.
He was standing before the open mouth of The Abyss... It was just a step between him and his roaring oblivion. Tongues of crimson-dark flame were beckoning him: ...Come... come... for your pain to be vanquished forever! But suddenly a graceful melody started to dance around his suffering soul and body. It was descending from the dream-holes of the ancient church he was standing in the middle of. He took a deep breath of the frosty air and stepped away from the burning edge...
The pain was leaving him and he asked Who are you? Hundreds of whispering voices answered Hushhhhh!!! Don't say a word, just listen... don't you hear that winter is on his way? It's coming and we are her silent envoys! As the voices faded away the man heard one last thing, Just smile and watch the storm advent Sitting down on the cold black stone the man sat back and watched.
END
All that I tried to do was capture the CD in words. I don't know if I succeeded or failed, but it is a start.
This next piece was heavily inspired by Agalloch's album, Pale Folklore. This piece may not capture the song as well as it possibly could, but it was more of an experimental piece. This one I am really not sure of, but I think that some Agalloch fans may enjoy it. Anyway, this was heavily inspired by Dead Winter Days, and is indeed called Dead Winter Days.
Dead Winter Days:
Cruel dead winter days are all that I have seem to have known in the past few months. For months I have awoken from deep slumber by your now silent voice echoing within these ebony halls of twilight. Nothing now moves in these forsaken halls, only echoes of life. You hung yourself in the fall.
You abandoned me, left me here. Alone. For months I have lived here in your shadow. I have wandered these empty halls seeing you in my shadow. I see you everywhere I look, you linger in everyplace I go, but you are no where to be found.
Now all I do is yearn but for a taste of you. I lay in front of the fire place at night wishing to see your face once again. Sometimes amongst the flames I see the shadow of your face. At night I mourn for you. But with the dawn I begin to dig deeper my own grave.
It is these ebon hall of misery that consume me so! I can not forget you while they stand. Your image is etched in every corner, your mind in every light. Even though I am tempted to stoke this thought of you and taste you once again, I know it would not be the same. Instead I must destroy the beauty that once was you! I must burn these cursed halls! Fire shall cleanse all that has happened here. Then I can move on.
My hands still smell of the gasoline I used to start the fire. Everything is in flames. All the memories of you. You are in flames. And so am I. The rope also smells like the gasoline on my hands. Soon I shall join you. But one last question remains. On which of these oaken branches shall I hang myself? On the one you went on? Or mine? Have I moved on or am I still entranced with your frozen beauty. I am not over you! You are not over me! I place my rope on your bough and jump down. As I die the cold gray dawn comes over the lawn. The cruel dead winter is over.
END
Well that's all for now. Feedback is greatly welcomed, either in the forum or email me at Lockeed45@hotmail.com . Also, I am certain that I am not the only one who may be interested in this form of writing. If you are interested in helping develop it please contact me. Oh, and you can hopefully expect more of this soon.
Well what you think?
