All of the lines in the Church converge in a slab of stone framed by the statues of two weeping saints, terrible like the fragment of a meteorite hurled by cosmic titans of sadness. In the slab, the people of the village chisel the names and ages of those they have lost to the Sea. With each of her blinks, the visitor flashes back to the terminal situation each of the names refers to.
Storms made of clouds bulging and full of evil agency like the faces of hateful giants vomiting death threats and curses at you, you sneer back and ask if they want to take this outside, or rather, down-side, which they do.
Storms made of clouds numb with the indifference of a universe against which you rage with your fist in the air, all teeth and knuckles and spit, before you sink.
Storms made with geometrical precision like the circumference of the maelstrom, and the cruel centripetal forces that draw you inside, away from all warmth and away from all love, down you go, and you sing.
The song is by Hand of Dust, a band from Copenhagen whose music crashes and surges ominous, dirgeful and violent like murder ballads shrieked from a prison of black ice.
Hand of Dust – A Sight For The Living
This is the b-side in a 7’’ being released by Avant Records on the 24 of June.
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