LOADING DATA
Thrawsunblat
Members | |
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Current | |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Keyboards, Tin whistle, Banjo, Percussion (2009-present) |
Member(bands): Woods of Ypres | |
Brendan Hayter | Bass, Guitars (acoustic) (2012-present) |
Member(bands): Blood of the Gods, Obsidian Tongue, Shabti, Woods of Ypres, Autolatry (live) | |
Rae Amitay | Drums (2012-present) |
Member(bands): Errant, Immortal Bird, Woods of Ypres, Castle (live), Eight Bells, Mares of Thrace | |
Keegan MC | Fiddle (2019-present) |
Past | |
David Gold | Drums (2009-2011) |
(R.I.P. 2011) Member(bands): Necramyth, The Northern Ontario Black Metal Preservation Society, Woods of Ypres, Will of the Ancients, Gates of Winter, Mister Bones |
# | Discography | Type | Year | |
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1 | Canada 2010 | Full-length | 2010 | Show album |
2 | Wanderer on the Continent of Saplings | Full-length | 2013 | Show album |
3 | Vast Arboreal Sky | EP | 2013 | Show album |
4 | Thrawsunbit | EP | 2013 | Show album |
5 | Metachthonia | Full-length | 2016 | Show album |
6 | Fires in Mist | EP | 2018 | Show album |
7 | Great Brunswick Forest | Full-length | 2018 | Show album |
8 | Live Off the Forest Floor | Live album | 2019 | Show album |
9 | Insula | EP | 2020 | Show album |
Canada 2010
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
January 10th, 2010 | Independent | Digital | Bandcamp | |
February 13th, 2013 | Ignifera Records | CD | Limited edition, Digipak | |
August 17th, 2015 | Lost Forty Recordings | LFR003 | 12" vinyl | Limited edition |
August 3rd, 2018 | Ignifera Records | IGNCA001 | CD | Reissue, Digipak |
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Lyrics, Songwriting |
David Gold (R.I.P. 2011) | Drums |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Miguel Gauthier | Mixing |
Andy Krehm | Mastering |
Joel Violette | Artwork, Layout |
Chris Holgersson | Photography |
Adam Gillis | Logo |
Brett Goodchild | Artwork, Layout, Logo (circa 2010) |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Black Sky | 03:48 | Show lyrics |
As we tread further on our separate paths, we fade further out of sight. Stars are all we have to connect our diverging lives. Look at the sky from where you are. And know that though we are so far, we see the same stars. Stars are all we have to connect our distant lives. So what becomes of you and I under this fading Winter sky? This death black sky. As we walked for hours, stars lit the forest of our past. You and I faded like the night sky, fearing to leave the beaten path. And so we lie, you and I, torn apart by the miles. And so we die, you and I, under the same black sky. I hope someday you find the fire to leave the comfort of the beaten path. |
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2. | Set Us Ablaze | 06:10 | Show lyrics |
Raise your torch to the sky! Fight this darkest of nights! Raise your torch to the sky! Raise your torch to the sky! The light will burn and set us all ablaze, as the sunwheel turns through these dark winter days. Moonless sky, breathing the dark. We burn as the sun, sole bearers of light. Winter black engulfs us all. Shadows dance from the torch, and summon the sun to life. Rise in the Eastern Sky! Chase the eternal archer across celestial planes. Bearer of the Ancient Fire, stand and take thy place atop this midwinter stage! Raise your torch to the sky! Raise your torch to the sky! Earn thy name Invictus, again! Moonless sky, breathing the dark. We burn as the sun, sole bearers of light. Winter black engulfs us all. Shadows dance from the torch, and summon the sun to life. Born in the Eastern Sky. Cast thy light upon these dark winter days! Bearer of the Ancient Fire, stand and take thy place atop this midwinter stage! |
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3. | Misted Shores | 04:43 | Show lyrics |
Who crossed the Great Atlantic to beach their ships on misted shores, who rode the eastern stormwinds and heaved on the heathen oar. From the land of ice and the land of fire. Past the glacier isle, past the wooded sandy shore. Drink from her flowing waters! Taste of her cascade streams! Hunt from her brimming forest! Vinland Drink from her flowing waters! Taste of her cascade streams! Hunt from her brimming forest! But Eastern winds found you, and carried Skaldic songs from home. And so your spirits dragged you, back to the Allfather’s shores. To the land of ice, and the land of fire. Past the wooded land, past the isle of ice and stone. Sail, Northlanders, ye masters of the Western Sea! Heave Away! Rape the waves with rabid oars! Sail, Northlanders, ye masters of the Western Sea! Tell the saga of this new found land of fjords. Our shores are strewn with iron, our fields are sown with runes, along the coast where the ancient winds still blow. In the air we still can hear the skalds sing their haunting tunes. They are calling back the wayward spirits. They are calling us home. |
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4. | Slake the Earth | 04:56 | Show lyrics |
Pure April rain replaced by dead April heat. Would it ever rain again? Black earth cracking. Scorched by the sun. The rivers it drained left us dying in the dust. The world changes when it starts to rain. Green radiates against the grey. And we can find solace from the torch. But it remained Sol Invictus, unconquered idol, fire orb primordial. Burning steadfast, in harbouring skies. Blistered vastlands reeked of immolation. The world changes when it starts to rain. Green radiates against the grey. And we can find solace from the torch. Venite imbriferae ut terram alatis! Venite nubes ut levamen donetis! Pluvie, ubi es, ibi, vita est. The mist will rise, in a haze, to the sky. Iubar aureus extulerat Sol flabat adhuc eurus... Then came the rain and it slaked the Earth. Spewed across the land and fed the rivers. So poured the rain as it slaked the Earth. Rising from the ground an ethereal fragrance. Pluvie Optime, multas tibi gratias agimus. |
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5. | Through the Ice | 04:59 | Show lyrics |
Many who die deserve life. Many who live deserve death. So live with fire, laugh at fate, bare your teeth as you draw your final breath. Life’s a journey ’cross a frozen lake, wind howling in your face. Never know how solid your steps are until the moment you fall through the ice. We all march into the unknown, time whipping our backs. Pushing us ever forward, until the moment we fall through the ice Drowning in the blackest water, one mis-taken step. Laden with past choices, pure consequence pulling me down We never know when we’re to die; we only choose what we do with our time. Too many let it go to waste; I cannot let this be my fate. A hand burst from the water, veins frozen through. Inch by inch, hour by hour, I dragged myself back onto the ice Ad mortem gelor. Sed perseverabo, et hoc superabo. |
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6. | Fire Still Burns | 04:10 | Show lyrics |
Wind still blows. Rain still falls. Earth still alive. Time still burning wildly. I see the lowering darkness, shades beyond black. Stars are points on this ancient map. The only warming solace in this vile place, the only link to the old, forsaken ways. It’s like a breath inhaled from an air so sick to suffer existence in this tar-laden pit. Pale dead lights offer no heat. Toxic smoke air, poison so sweet. Moon still evades. Sun still pursues. Though chilled by the night, fire still burns inside me. I see the lowering darkness, shades beyond black. Stars are points on this ancient map. The only warming solace in this vile place, the only link to the old, forsaken ways. All the ancient gods are man’s embodiment of nature. The portrayal of our ancestors, symbolic of the forces that created us all. The gods of old are with us still. Every rainfall. Every breath drawn. With the rising of the morning sun, I look to the east and see it has begun: a new dawn approaching, a return from abroad. I depart this wasteland, back to the green of the gods. |
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7. | She, Arboreal | 04:38 | Show lyrics |
She radiates across the skyline. I have swept through her oak, maple, and pine as a spirit released from corporeal ways, or a man who is still from the kill ablaze. And though I’ve seen her aflame in the sun, just as I have in the gloom of the rain, and as I have in dead winter days, her beauty abides in all her shades. A thousand times and she’s never lived at all. She, arboreal. The silence stills the morning air so clean as if she’s holding her breath in waiting. She beckons through her cascading greens; in susurrations she speaks my name. A thousand times and she’s never lived at all. She, arboreal. |
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8. | Vastland | 04:19 | Show lyrics |
Feel the atavism coursing back through time. Bringing forth ancient fire, Life, in its purest form. It shall be embraced. It shall light the torches of the hordes. By this flame we will march across the vastlands. Along rivers of ice, standards of black unfurled. It shall burn in our veins, across the ages, through the haze. Veni, ignis! Veni, fere! Arde, ignis, acerrime! We will tread on paths overgrown throughout time, neglected by mankind, reclaimed by wilderness. Until the end of days, one with the winds and storms, we will carry on, ever ablaze with primal flame. Veni, ignis! Veni, fere! Arde, ignis, acerrime! Rise from the Earth, Bearing flames primordial. Alive at last, bearing time eternal. |
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37:43 |
Wanderer on the Continent of Saplings
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
March 13th, 2013 | Ignifera Records | CD | ||
March 13th, 2013 | Independent | Digital | Bandcamp | |
August 2nd, 2018 | Ignifera Records | IGNCA002 | CD | Reissue, Digipak |
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Brendan Hayter | Bass |
Rae Amitay | Drums, Vocals (backing) (tracks 2, 9) |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Keyboards, Tin whistle |
Guest/Session | |
Jeff Mott | Fiddle |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Siegfried Meier | Producer, Engineering, Mixing, Mastering |
Blake Menzies | Photography (cover) |
Brett Goodchild | Artwork, Layout |
Joel Violette | Producer, Engineering |
Diane Cole | Photography (additional) |
Dan Gonzalez | Engineering |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Lifelore Revelation | 04:12 | Show lyrics |
Digital contemplation Defames natural adoration, Denies mythical admiration. This is the song of our time. Analytical observation Defames mythical incarnation, Denies mytho-human integration. This is the song of our time. But we have seen the earth figure. In the shapes of our very thoughts. Searing proof— the analytic has its bounds. Lifelore revelation: Myth is the song of the Earth! Earthwide exultation: Death is the song of rebirth! Lifelong wheels of death and rebirth. So many times shall I die on this earth! Existential elevation Is as a cyclical renovation. Life’s a series of ritual deaths. Life’s a series of ritual rebirths. Cycles cascading cycles Cascading lives Cascading back, To time unknown. So we know. We wear the masks Worn a thousand times before We are the myths Born a thousand times of lore. Birth initiation. Earthlore captivation. Archetype manifestation. Another lifewheel rotation. To live, first you must die. To die, first you must wander. Wander the road of a thousand trials. Destroy the self; rebuilt it anew. |
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2. | Once Fireveined | 05:43 | Show lyrics |
Brother of mine, How could you thrive in constant peace? Thrive without the struggle for always more? One only lives when at war. Sister, what tidings shall you bring? What spoils and vict’ries shall you ever sing? For what do you stand in your idleness? From what great journey do you rest? The peace for which you long is but rest for the road ahead. If you’ve yet to wander, why do you rest like the dead? The peace for which you long Is but rest for the road ahead. Fire I’ve lost, and fire I’ve found. I sing to you, ye dead above the ground. Brother of mine, What of the lightning that governed you? What scattered the clouds, O great thunderhead? When Man is at peace, he is dead. Sister, once fire-veined, What quenched your heart, simmered the blood? O former champion of the road unled, Why do you rest like the dead? Brother, have you tasted the feast to defeat starvation? Sister, have you drawn The sweet breaths of flame that follow the hunt? To live is not to exist. To exist is not to live. Brother, have you smelled The distant smoke on the horizon? Sister, have you shot out After it with lungs of flame? To live is not to exist. To exist is not to live. The flesh to defeat starvation. The breaths of fire that follow the hunt. To live is to smell the smoke in the distance And sprint for it with fucking lungs of flame. And so on and on, You lay awake, and waste away. And so on and on, It pains me to the earth. Brother, how shall I sing your song at the end? Shall I sing that you were content to smoulder, but never to blaze? Sister, how shall I sing your song at the end? Shall I sing that you were content Not to burn, but to fade in the haze? |
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3. | We, the Torchbearers | 05:21 | Show lyrics |
The great torch falls to the soil There it flickers and roils Our sorrow won’t fuel it forever. We all must carry the torch We all must carry the memory Death! Takes your fire! Takes your innocence! When you bury a brother. Death! Takes your fire! Takes your innocence! When you bury a sister. You have to accept there is nothing to be done. You have to accept that this has happened. You have to accept this begins a new chapter. You have to accept you can never go back. Who you were is now dead. Heave the torch! Carry the torch! We all must carry the torch! We all must carry the memory. Hold fast! To the Earth! For rebirth! Thou modern Baldr. Hold fast! To the Earth! For rebirth! Thou modern Persephone! You are at a new beginning You are lost without bearings A sailor without the stars A chapter without yet words You shall find navigation. You shall find your story. |
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4. | Goose River (Mourners’ March) | 03:34 | Show lyrics |
We’ll walk through the day, on down to the bay We’ll claim old Goose River Point So haul on your mugs and growler jugs it’s a long road, but not as long as a dry road We’ll drink the ale and spin many a tale of our comrade’s final days. We’ll pour out the beer for the one not here Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers once more, me b’y. It’s a long road and a sorrowed load. It’s a long road and a sorrowed load, Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers, once more, to ya, Sloan. Where could we throw the ash, but the end of the path at the swirling Goose River Point? He’ll stand with the trees, and run with the streams where he once roamed, and now can ever again roam. And again next year we’ll feast out here an annual march to the sea. We’ll raise up a toast on the rocky coast: Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers, once more, to ya, Sloan. |
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5. | Bones in the Undertow | 05:14 | Show lyrics |
When she hardened with the cold we would cross her and marvel in her winter-white beauty. Until she awoke and claimed her first lives, in the spring. And as they roll on the riverbed below, Sustenance reclaimed by the neverending flow. Now she’s stolen another soul, Another captive within her ever Autumn-black beauty. And as they roll on the riverbed below, Sustenance reclaimed by the neverending flow. And as they dance on the riverbed below. Nothing but bones in the undertow. As she creates, so she destroys Livers of life must always repay. As she creates, so she regains. All whom she feeds she must one day reclaim. Go, Wanderer! Cross this black stream. Can you smell the distant fires on the horizon? Can you feel the pull of the unknown mists? Of the unknown forests stretching into the skyline? And on this dark day as I cross This New World Rhine with her own rings of gold. She will whip me and bewail me with the wind, To rip me into her depths, and claim me for herself As the trees on the shore stand silently and watch. As I stand out upon the shore, And cry out to the breathing current, Each and every one ‘neath this Maritime sun Grieves my brother; I must reclaim him. And so I throw myself to the riverbed below. Resurrection sought in the life-bearing flow. But as I roam on the riverbed below, I see nothing but bones in the undertow. As she creates, so she destroys. Livers of life must always repay. As she creates, so she destroys. All whom she feeds, she must one day reclaim. |
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6. | Wanderer on the Continent of Saplings | 05:20 | Show lyrics |
O Wanderer, on the continent of saplings, Tell me thy true name! Not the heritage you don. Nor the bloodline that you claim. Tell me not the clan to which you wish to cling. But what thou truly art, if thou even knowest it. Tell me what copse of saplings hath thee truly sprung? Whence art thou truly come? If thou even knowest it. Wanderer! Have you seen the mother forests, Across the raging seas? Wanderer! Have you seen the darkened landscape, Whence the elders cast their seeds? This! Is the Continent of Saplings. A monument of trees. This! Is the Continent of Saplings. From sea to shining sea. We, here, on the Continent of Saplings, Are seeds of distant lands. But we, on the Continent of Saplings, Take root in the same ground. We, here, on the Continent of Saplings Bear a thousand different forms. But we, on the Continent of Saplings Are of one kind. I have long roamed this continent, under the plague of the Nihilist. Before, it was not this way. Now all is death and decay. “Wherever he sets his hand there is a cry for the redeeming hero. The carrier of the shining blade, Whose blow, whose touch, whose existence, will liberate the land.” -Joseph Campbell Wanderer from the East! Lost on the trail. You cannot see, yourself, what you’re worth. I behold you, emerald veiled in shale. You must learn your worth, for the earth. The thousand trials will strip you bare to the hardened emerald soul. Only then can you carry the shining brand And smite the Nihilist from the land. A thousand tribes, of a thousand names. We are one kind; we are the same. A thousand tribes, of a thousand names. We’re in need of liberation. We are in need of a champion. “Dethrone the great Nihilist! Dethrone the great Nihilist!” |
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7. | Maritime Shores | 03:32 | Show lyrics |
I’ve seen this continent’s oceans, And all its creatures in motion. But above it all for splendour stands the briny Maritimes. Where the mist and the rain Blast life into me, And the old white pines Stand guard over the sea. Though I have left her as ofttime before Oh how I long for her Maritime shores I am but one of a thousand of lore Oh how I long for her Maritime shores Though I’ve lost myself in the greenery, And all other distant scenery, None match the climes Of the misty Maritimes. Elsewhere pipes are singing, And strings and drums are ringing. But none with the life of the briny Maritimes. |
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8. | View of a Million Trees | 07:22 | Show lyrics |
As I climb mount Parafac With the weight of the urns on my back I grieve you. I grieve the four of you. As I reach the snowbound rock With the weight of the earth on my back I must leave you. I must heave you to the winds. View of a million trees Brings this sorrowed king to his knees View of a million trees I am not what I once was Before these four deaths because Each tore out and gored my battered heart. A man awake but with no breath Part of me torn out with each death Alive, yet dying for rebirth. View of a million trees And a sky burial for thee Too much death around me To ever be reborn. Too much death around me. I must put these ghosts to rest. A thousand lakes crowned in pine Gleam beneath this mountain spine Relieve you Receive you in their midst. Would that you could see this aerial Altar at your skyward burial. Fly, fly on the four winds! View of a million trees. I feel the death release me. My spirit becoming clean. I feel the death release me. I lay what I was to rest. I can feel the silence, All across the land, Bearing peace and solace To this sorrowed man. I can feel the silence, Misting whisper song, Lifting off the burden I’ve worn for so long. |
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9. | Borea (Pyre of a Thousand Pine) | 05:22 | Show lyrics |
Would that the mists envelop me, Tendrils writhing upon my skin. And raise me, on this sombre night, This sombre night of october decline. Would that the mists envelop me, Tendrils writhing upon my skin. And raise me, on this sombre night, This sombre night of november renewal Raise me atop the pyre. The pyre of a thousand pine, Rising against the nightscape. A mountain, a bulwark, a fortress. The pyre of a thousand pine that, Hopeless against what was to come, And too noble to be felled by cruel hand, Laid themselves down. The mist seeped down from the hills, And took them in her tendrils. She piled them high, As a mountain against the nightscape. Set me atop. set the Wandering king ablaze. Burn this innocent flesh from my bones. O Borea, breathe life into me. Slake my dust bones, my ash skin. Draw the life of this fire so high. Draw it into me. That I might take the height of the white pine, That I might take the strength of the ironwood That I might take the wisdom of the oak That I might rise again. Rise, Wanderer. |
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10. | Elegy Across the Silence | 02:58 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
11. | Song of the Nihilist | 05:58 | Show lyrics |
The Nihilist followed me along my path. The Nihilist spoke to me. “You’ve come so far, O Wanderer Only to fall to me. “I am the Nihilist. And I will tell you of this world. I am the Nihilist. And I will shatter your world. “Nothing lasts forever but the hope that it would. Nothing you endeavour ever shines like it should. Look into the mirror, look to the dawn. All that you see will one day be gone. “You’ve come so far, Wanderer. With such a burden in tow. It all will end in madness. This you must surely know? “Is every step not a mountain? Does the wind not cut to the soul? It will all end in sadness. Why endeavour at all?” I felt the death in his voice. I felt the decay in his words. But it slid off like mountain snow; I’d been here before. Before I’d taken up the urns. Before I’d taken up the cause. When I myself had burned down To smouldering ash. From the white-hot coals At the base of my soul, I thank the celestia. For those refusing to tire Heaving bellows of the fire, Who stoked my dying heart. “Listen to me, O Nihilist. I will tell you what I have seen of this Earth. When I’ve had so much death in my time, What can one do but celebrate What little time there is to exist, What vibrant life burns in those around us. ‘Nothing lasts forever,’ Said the black hole to the star. Look into the mirror, See the black hole that you are. If every step is a mountain, enjoy the fucking view. And see the miles you’ve traveled stretching out below you. If nothing is forever, We are roaring stars. All that we endeavour Is all of who we are. Life is churning chaos Life is roaring fire All that we endeavour Is all of who we are. |
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12. | I Am the Viator | 05:07 | Show lyrics |
Stranded here on this wretched pier, The Nihilist dead in the earth. The four urns I bore, and the sorrow I wore Their ash and my grief spread o’er the earth. These burdens done, and these labours won, I can return to my home. These journeys done, and into mythos spun, I now return to my home. But it was a storm. A storm to kill. I was driven to these shores. It was a storm. A storm that killed. Oh how it took from me. Yet I remain. It’s high time for high tide On this bay of immeasurable loss. A rising tide will raise all ships, But mine is long since a sunken wreck. So I took an axe along the woods of my idols. I tapped the trunks to see which were hollow. Now I sail on this ship I’ve nailed together from the trees of felled idols. This past twelvemonth was a roiling storm; It killed, it stole, it blazed, it cracked. I howled, I fought, I wailed, I mourned; I was nought but a sunken wreck. But now I know what it is to throw Off a burden the weight of the earth. Now I burn with the strength I’ve earned And shift my gaze to the black clouds. Now I am the storm. A storm to kill. I shall decimate these shores. A cyclone at the end of a cycle. Above the world, my life stretching out to the end of the earth. The Wanderer is dead; I see it all. The Child (sees the Viator wending his way) Becomes the Wanderer on the Earth The Wanderer (led by the Mentor grey) Becomes the Viator on his path The Viator (seeing the Questioning Child) Becomes himself the Mentor wise. The Mentor (instructing The Wanderer wild) Becomes himself once more the Questioning Child The storm has gone, and the Wanderer is dead I am become more… I am the Viator Master of paths, singer of wars I am the Viator I return to the Maritimes I shall release it from death and decay I return to her misted climes I shall devour her death and decay I am the Viator I am the path, the journey, the war I am the Viator I return to the Maritimes I shall sing the songs I’ve earned. I return to her misted climes I shall teach the fires I’ve learned. I am the Viator. I am the path, the journey, the war. I am the Viator, Master of paths, singer of wars. |
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59:43 |
Vast Arboreal Sky
Members | |
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Band members | |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Banjo, Percussion |
Guest/Session | |
Jeff Mott | Fiddle |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Siegfried Meier | Mixing (tracks 1, 2), Mastering (tracks 1, 2) |
Joel Violette | Recording, Producer, Engineering |
Holly Friesen | Photography (cover) |
Brett Goodchild | Editing (cover) |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Vastland (Acoustic) | 04:53 | Show lyrics |
Feel the atavism coursing back through time. Bringing forth ancient fire, Life, in its purest form. It shall be embraced. It shall light the torches of the hordes. By this flame we will march across the vastlands. Along rivers of ice, standards of black unfurled. It shall burn in our veins, across the ages, through the haze. Veni, ignis! Veni, fere! Arde, ignis, acerrime! We will tread on paths overgrown throughout time, neglected by mankind, reclaimed by wilderness. Until the end of days, one with the winds and storms, we will carry on, ever ablaze with primal flame. Veni, ignis! Veni, fere! Arde, ignis, acerrime! Rise from the Earth, Bearing flames primordial. Alive at last, bearing time eternal. |
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2. | She, Arboreal (Acoustic) | 05:04 | Show lyrics |
She radiates across the skyline. I have swept through her oak, maple, and pine as a spirit released from corporeal ways, or a man who is still from the kill ablaze. And though I’ve seen her aflame in the sun, just as I have in the gloom of the rain, and as I have in dead winter days, her beauty abides in all her shades. A thousand times and she’s never lived at all. She, arboreal. The silence stills the morning air so clean as if she’s holding her breath in waiting. She beckons through her cascading greens; in susurrations she speaks my name. A thousand times and she’s never lived at all. She, arboreal. |
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3. | Black Sky (Acoustic) | 03:13 | Show lyrics |
Stars are all we have to connect our diverging lives. Look at the sky from where you are. And know that though we are so far, we see the same stars. Stars are all we have to connect our distant lives. So what becomes of you and I under this fading Winter sky? This death black sky. And so we lie, you and I, torn apart by the miles. And so we die, you and I, under the same black sky. |
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13:10 |
Thrawsunbit
Members | |
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Brendan Hayter | Bass |
Rae Amitay | Drums |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Once Fireveined (8-bit) | 05:32 | Show lyrics |
(Instrumental) "For what do you stand in your idle NES?" |
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2. | Bones in the Undertow (8-bit) | 05:00 | Show lyrics |
(Instrumental) "Another chiptune within her ever Atari-black beauty." |
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3. | Maritime Shores (8-bit) | 03:22 | Show lyrics |
(Instrumental) "Oh how I long for her Commodore 64" |
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4. | Wanderer on the Continent of Saplings (8-bit) | 05:19 | Show lyrics |
(Instrumental) "A thousand tribes, of a thousand games. We’re in need of emulation. We are in need of a chiptune." |
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19:13 |
Metachthonia
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
June 17th, 2016 | Ignifera Records | IGNCA006 | CD | Digipak |
June 17th, 2016 | Independent | Digital | Bandcamp | |
June 17th, 2016 | Ignifera Records | IGNCA006 / BLR079 | 2 12" vinyls | Limited edition |
Members | |
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Band members | |
Brendan Hayter | Bass, Songwriting (track 5) |
Rae Amitay | Drums, Vocals (additional) (track 3) |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Songwriting, Lyrics |
Guest/Session | |
John Duke | Guitars (lead) (track 5) |
Raphael Weinroth-Browne | Cello |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Knate Myers | Photography (cover) |
Adam Gillis | Logo |
Brett Goodchild | Layout |
Siegfried Meier | Mixing, Mastering, Producer |
Pete Grossman | Recording (drums, Rae’s vocals) |
Leon Taheny | Recording (cellos) |
Joel Violette | Producer |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Fires That Light the Earth | 10:40 | Show lyrics |
I: Of Consuming Flame There must be more, much more, to life than this electric, egocentric, current circumstance. On this Earth, there must be more than this for Homo sapiens. Homo spirans, Homo amans, Roamer of the Earth for aeons. Thriver through ages of ice. Homo pugnans, homo narrans*, Hauler Down of Bear and Mammoth. We are they—the same line. Give me sun and give me song, and I will charge our blood with ancient life. Give me sun and give me song—and the years I’ll sing us back to ice. This chthonic howl echoes across Metachthonia. Somewhere in the distance it is answered. Look to the sky, look to the hills, to ground you in this electric age. Look to the folk and the past they fill to ground you in this electric age. I find myself a being of consuming flame and seeing that the senses are deceived and isolated by machines. I find myself a being of consuming flame and seeing that the passions are deceived and maneuvered by machines. As you journey on through these modern times, walk light through the traps of the age. As you journey on through these modern times, walk heavy through the barriers made. Metachthonia! Metachthonia! Chthonic times are gone. Metachthonia! Metachthonia! Metachthonic times live on. Look not to these modern times—where diodes shine over the sun—to solve questions older than life, for the times only concern with themselves. II: The Chthonic Call Lost in urban sprawl. Spiritual withdrawal. Lights and screens decide all dreams. The distant landscape breathed and I heard the sky above—it groaned clouded words. Followed the chthonic call; journey to the coastal wall, where great trees stand across wide whispering land. The sound of waves striking cliffs was speech, conversation. Eternal tones, in the marrow of my bones: “And the fires burn bright. And they burn in number. Oh how they burn all across the Earth. And the fires burn all across the glowing Earth. And the fires burn for any who wish to find them. Any who wish to find them.” III: In Mist and Spray I plant my feet upon the cliff and breathe the spray of the sea. Arms wider than the thundering sky. I roared out to all I could see and stretched flame into the sky, though immersed in mist and spray. The fire that surged from heart to fist was ready to consume me. I saw the threads appear in the air: not quite cloud, not quite vine, glowing with each pulse, reaching high from my chest to the clouds. And the sky broke with crashing light and sound to deafen Thor himself. Lightning lit the ethereal braid. All went black. When the storm cleared I sprawled on the green. And the landscape breathed. The stars became life in the sky. When I felt the blood pulse in time with the Earth, I’d found my answer. *spirans: who hopes, aspires; amans - who loves, has passion; pugnans - who fights, battles; narrans - who tells stories, relays experiences. |
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2. | She Who Names the Stars | 09:20 | Show lyrics |
I: Still Life I walk the banks of the stream of electric thought for a ford back across. For here I am scattered, thoughts asunder, in tatters. No recollection of having crossed. The stream will always be found among the industrial sound. This is life in Metachthonia. But green can always be found among the industrial sound. There is still life in Metachthonia. The water runs so deep. I’ve seen so many taken by the will of the stream. But I must cross to the warmth of And the green of where I once was. The peace of life lived at my own will. The stream will always be found among the industrial sound. This is life in Metachthonia. But green can always be found among the industrial sound. There is still life in Metachthonia. All you, welcome to Metachthonia. It’s like the rustle of leaf to ground against the industrial sound. All you, welcome to Metachthonia. It’s like the sun on your skin while the diodes draw you in. It was verdant and the arching oaks swayed in a whispering wind. All quiet were the thorning groves, and shining lakes did brim. Then ’lecric industry arrived, emitting its cold and lifeless light. Dendritic verdure did subside to oil and fumes and torbanite. It left and with it nature’s realm and air with cedar scent and overhanging streets of elm with flowing branches bent. Although we see the trees around in this electric age, yet nothing of old nature’s old ways does seep into our veins. II: Asteric Understanding And on her arm was flame alive. In ink it lashed the wind, a binding to primordial times when flame was close as kin. A binding to time when survival hung on reading stars on luminous galactic ceiling. Even before the scientific, even before—in life—we could reach the stars, we knew the stars. Known in analogue, but known well. Mapped, we knew them as hag, hunter, stag, and thunder. A binding to time when survival hung on reading stars on luminous galactic ceiling—when to reap the bearded grain, when to hunt the running game, if the sun should wake again from winter’s slumbered plane. “Do you not take comfort in seeing the same stars as your ancestors? “If we must take strength from something greater than ourselves—for all that you hope and all that you are—why not revere the sun and stars? Our forebears worshiped the sun. Our forebears worshiped the stars. Asteric under-standing and far from without life immense in passion and pulse.” III: Seven Winters Look at seven winters past—the changes to the world. What, in seven winters more, could dare to be revealed? So now is pattern visible, and conversation opened, for us, the treaders on the cusp of now and coming moment. For in this age the choice is ours when to connect or flee. But soon’s the time when we will learn the meaning of ubiquity. Look at seven winters past—the changes to the world. What, in seven winters more, could dare to be unfurled? Think, Metachthonic, where does it end, the reach of ’lecric nets? Look at present, past, and future trend, and what they may beget.” Having spoke, she looked to the shimmering sky. She saw our past, present, future, and so did I. In the shower of ageless light, I understood. “Astronomer,” I began. But when my eyes fell from the sky, she was gone. |
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3. | Dead of Winter | 09:36 | Show lyrics |
I: Spoke The Huntress “Hail, Metachthonic! You there! Chthonic human in this post-natural world. You stand in isolation from the verdant Gaian nation. All you! Welcome to Metachthonia! Thoughtbuilt walls hold you all. You’ve risen from the Earth long after it birthed the age where cold light Shines above sun-warmth. You stand in isolation from the verdant Gaian nation. Though stalwart, cold logic is not enough for the pyric human to thrive and burn. If in the valley of the spirit ice lies across the river, it’s never in breaking through the ice. It’s in the burning of the brand —in the warming of the land—that ice will lift. All you! Welcome to Metachthonia! Those without fire have kept you from burning brighter. II: The Bone Hand At the black edge of defeat, shatter the bones of your adversary. And howl out to the glowing night; drink deep its immortality. Before we go into the ground—before the bone hand drags us in —seek the moments of euphoria, the fires that light the great hall of a life. Relentless pursuer of enigma, incessant as the snow that falls, stand, lungs aflame, over your prey. Drink deep of burning clarity. III: Topos, Mythos, Anthropos “Huntress! I feel so cold, so tired. I’ve always charged, I’ve never baulked. But now the summit seems so far. Huntress! Have you ever been, so cold and tired, like the dead of winter?” “Metachthonic, you are weathered, not broken. Be-cause it is dark will there never be light? Because it is cold will there never be warmth? It is not the dead of winter. It is the heart of winter. Know you not the land on which you tread? For, under the snow, a heart beats hard. Can you not see its image in the self? Run with me. We will hunt the spirit of the land. In the solar glow, we will hunt. Hunt with me where topos, mythos, anthropos* collide. Woven to our souls we take our prize. Hear its beating heart; see the ice lift off the river. Weave this tapestry to adorn the great hall of life. *topos - place, location (cf. toponym); mythos - story, myth, legend; anthropos - human being |
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4. | Hypochthonic Remnants | 08:20 | Show lyrics |
I: Subterranean Glastonbury shapings; Carnac arrangings. Hypochthonic remnants summon Metachthonic tenants*. Songs of ages past lived and died still neolithic. Lore of ages past has waited for years to come to you. Raknehaugen, Anundshög, draw you through temporal murk. Sub-terranean remnants summon post-terranean tenants. We souls of ages past, we’ll tear up the earth to get to you. Buried neath the megalithic, spirits of ages past: the slumbering to rise again. Post-terranean vastlands, the self in terms electrical. All voiceless aspirants who hope in hexadecimals. We are the hypochthonic; we will give you voice. To you, the innate electronic, to rise above the noise. II: Song of Chthonia “We are the air that wakes with the dawn. We are the fire that burns with the midday sun. We are the water that cools with the dusk. We are the earth that restores with the midnight calm.” The times change like the river flows by: swift and raging. Never aware where its hurried course lies, yet ever racing. To take the times wholesale is to be taken by the times; to take the past wholesale is to be left behind. To weigh the finest of past and present is to navigate the times. In any year, culture, clime; to navigate is to thrive. Sing, sing to the sky the dark song of Chthonia. Sing loud, sing to the times, a call through Metachthonia. I am the air; far I shall roam Under the sky in all of its shades. I am fire; long I shall burn To renew the self and temper the blade. I am water; clear I shall flow To cleanse the self of what sullies the times. I am the earth; firm I shall stand. Hold fast to what shines through from the past. III: At Odell’s Heart When you stand among the pine, You stand in a far-stretching line Of all who’ve stood in rapture here And all who shall in coming year. For in the wood you are the same As those to come and those who came To root themselves in rapture here And those who shall in coming year. To sit at Odell’s heart and contemplate the times among the fallen hemlock that rampart on all sides. To sit at Odell’s heart and contemplate what’s mine; what’s mine to give, receive, provide; what’s owed me by the times; what the times should give, provide, for all beneath them to thrive—so we know, like each fleck of snow in the storm, none is alone in this plight. It’s a grounding, among these electric times to reflect what the times have become. To shrug off the wires and, in cool cedar air, think with forgotten clarity. A grounding, among these electric times. Your feet to the earth and your mind to its calm. Your soul to all who have stood where you are—to feel in their bones how timelessness flows now in the air around you. *hypochthonic: subterranean |
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5. | Rivers of Underthought | 08:43 | Show lyrics |
I: River With the fresh, fragrant air does the river course by, yet unaware where its hurried course lies. Driven by current, all- encompassing tow, life on the surface moved by what roils below. So as we wend through speech and encounter, the rivers of underthought carry us forward. Awareness can grasp the path left in its wake, but never the course that the current shall take. Brother of mine, when we meet, the gestures and tones rivers of underthought let fly from your bones. Sister of mine, when we hear the songwords and tones, rivers of underthought seep into our bones. II: Stream And so they connect us, what truly bind us all to one another. Streams unseen, under all thought, join like the reservoirs and tributaries — as seen from miles above the Earth, stretching into its curvature. Join like the great interconnection of all water, of all life. As the rivers of underthought flow to the sea, through deltas to oceans, lakes, and estuaries. From any of their seven billion sources. The latticework of human experience. III: Deluge How the torrents sometimes rage; how they sometimes wane to rivulet; how they sometimes freeze with the cold; how they sometimes build so strong, so relentless, so boundless as to swell and swell and burst the dam. As the white water roars into the valley below, this is how we change, how the valley of the spirit reshapes its face — renews, restores, returns us again to balance. So crash together, run together, rivers of underthought. Oh the deluge when we gathe |
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6. | In Mist We Walk | 11:40 | Show lyrics |
I: The Hammering The mountain looms in the clouds above. Although of the earth, it stands with the gods. It was so easy to stare at screen while all outside was in vibrant green. So I fed the mind while body withered away. Now I put one foot before the other and a journey begins. The hammering of my heart, the great flesh anvil. The same redfire heart with which this life is forged thunders with the thrill of the unknown path—Thor’s hammer pounding against my chest. The terror that succeeds the shapes/Surrounding in the forest mist./The air that fills with mythic taste/Which binds to me from heart to fist. And when I re-emerge and leave the fog with the trees the thoughts I’ve won are seared to me forevermore. The hammering of my heart, the great flesh anvil. The same redfire heart on which all myth is born flares at the distant scent of laurel wreaths, heaves at the sight of a newfound path—Lugh’s fire roaring within my chest. II: Vernal Rains Here sits our hundred ‘lectric years in the shadow of chthonic millennia. Is this progress? As we sit our waking hours in worship at diode altars. Diodes only displace darkness; they never illuminate. You! who would choose the dark so the sun might burn even brighter as it soars. You! who would lose the brightness of the diode to regain the night and its lore. Your season is nigh. I can feel it on the wind. I can smell the chthonic climes as the vernal rains begin. You! who would spend waking hours with life immense in passion, pulse, and power. You! who would walk through hexadecimal thunder with the will of the advancing hunter. Your season is nigh. I can feel it on the wind. I can smell the chthonic climes as the vernal rains begin. “Every age has them. Every age has those who learn to thrive like sovereigns. Who walk each step with the fire of life, aware some days burn brighter than others. Who learn the landscape of the time. Its hills, its valleys. Who learn to navigate it with precision. With passion. With pulse. With immensity of spirit.” III: Another Journey Begins I walk the banks of the stream of electric thought. I cross to the warmth of where I once was. I look down to see a sixfold flame in hand. Sing me the dark songs of Chthonia. Sing life immense in passion and pulse. I am the snow that falls: incessant, relentless, boundless. I am the rain that whips: raging, cleansing, cool. I am the sun that burns: awakened and scatt’ring the clouds. I am the heart that heaves: renewed, thundering. Sing me the dark songs of Chthonia. Sing me the song of Metachthonia. Sing me life immense in passion and pulse. I am the river that swells: incessant, relentless, boundless. I am the dam that bursts: raging, cleansing, cool. I am the stride ahead. I am the journey that begins. You! spiritwalker, igniter of the sixfold flame—you! who breathe the essence of fire and exhale the chant of life. You! Who rend the earth and snow beneath your feet as you hurl yourself through endless miles of trails—to the summit of your pursuits. In mist we walk through the lands of Metachthonia. From mist we emerge and build the fires of old Chthonia. And the fires burn bright, All across the earth, For any who wish to find them. For any who wish to find them. For the fires burn bright, All across the earth. One foot before the other, And another journey begins. In mist we walk, we sovereigns of old Chthonia. From mist we emerge, crowned sovereigns of Metachthonia. Rule on into the dusk. |
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58:19 |
Fires in Mist
Members | |
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Band members | |
Joel Violette | Guitars, Songwriting |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Garry Brents | Mixing, Mastering |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Fires That Light the Earth (Instrumental Acoustic ’16) | 04:24 | instrumental |
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2. | In Mist We Walk (Instrumental Acoustic ’16) | 04:16 | instrumental |
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08:40 |
Great Brunswick Forest
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
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October 19th, 2018 | Ignifera Records | IGNCA009 | CD | Digipak |
October 19th, 2018 | Independent | Digital | Bandcamp | |
October 19th, 2018 | Ignifera Records | IGNCA009 | Cassette |
Members | |
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Band members | |
Rae Amitay | Drums |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Songwriting |
Guest/Session | |
Keegan MC | Fiddle |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Siegfried Meier | Mixing, Mastering, Engineering, Production |
Joel Violette | Producer, Engineer, Artwork, Layout, Photography |
Brett Goodchild | Artwork, Layout |
Adam Gillis | Cover lettering |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Green Man of East Canada | 03:30 | Show lyrics |
I chanced to meet a strange man Down a Brunswick lane, Dressed in brown and a vagabond’s cloak A timeless image from the wood. I stopped and said to him Before he passed me by, "Stranger to these Maritime shores, spare me a moment of your time!" Green Man of East Canada Dark Shores of Northumberland Green man, sing, man, of your journey ’cross the waves! I’m no stranger to these lands, Though they’re not my own. I left with the changed tides To call this Brunswick kingdom home. Its shores alive with green, Its cities cloaked in trees Like the halcyon of my youth, Thousands of old summers past. I wear the emblems of the summer and I bear its pulsing song. I carry it through winter, I spread it when the snows have gone. Across the jagged seas I traveled With the first to cross them, And spread my arms across the richness of these misted lands. |
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2. | Here I Am a Fortress | 06:18 | Show lyrics |
Here I am a fortress. Heavy were my days; sleep wore my nights; Toil was my bane; but stone was my will. O my allies in blood and in spirit— Together we roam the brimming glades! But on my own I face the wailing winds Of languor, so here I am a fortress. Fashioned from the surrounding land, I stand against the winds. Here strength I summon and travel inward; I see into the earth. Its ore I gather, and smelt out in the depths of this fortress mine. So when we gather, then I emerge And I bear for you shimmering ore. Among the rocks did I lay; among the roots did I slumber; In the earth did I sleep; I was devoured by the sun. I was washed into the sea; I became naught but purpose; But then I rose and strong I stood Against the weight I chose to carry. A fortress I am and here I stand, Fashioned I am from this land. Life is not simply to breathe, Nor to break back for others’ intents. Life is to grow, to struggle free, To assert one’s own unique existence. A fortress of stone is what I am. Fashioned I am from this land, First crumbled down, down, Indiscernible from Earth. |
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3. | Via Canadensis | 03:06 | Show lyrics |
Vast river flows a mari usque ad mare, Tethering cities so distant. We ride to see the stones, the great standing stones They tower like the memories and myths they mark. On we go — to the standing stones we’ve made! On we go — to the standing stones we’ve yet to raise! So stand the stones a mari usque ad mare, Tethering times so distant. As we stand in awe, we prepare to carve out our own. On we go — anchored in the earth. On we go — megalithic art for these transient times. |
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4. | Song of the Summit | 03:18 | Show lyrics |
I who have cast my eye on the world, I see what I am. See what I take for granted and given, I lies and traps dispel. I who have cast my eye on the self, I see the earth. I own what I take for granted and given, I lay bare the distant spell. Through this wanderer’s eye, I see the way. The song of the summit calls through autumn’s haze. I who have journeyed for days on foot, I learn what I am. Learn what becomes of all my trappings, As I wake on misted ground. I the ascender of thousands of feet, I survey the land. And so I bind my sapling learnings To the great canvas sprawling below |
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5. | Thus Spoke the Wind | 04:19 | Show lyrics |
Peace becomes fire, still beneath night. Raven, sing words of the sky. Mind cast alone for knowledge in my bones. Whisper, wind, secrets that I hold. Ancient wind, show me now; Kindle the fire and dispel The thundering skies behind my brow So I might give unto this world. The throne of your mind, in great knotted pine, You must claim. Thus spoke the wind. The storm of your soul, which across wide valleys rolls, You must tame. Thus spoke the wind. |
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6. | Great Brunswick Forest | 03:55 | Show lyrics |
From inside the windblown treeline I saw another great tree fall, Torn in twin by the immortal wind, Like thunder shook us all. But now I’m borne on through the storm, For better or for grim. Blood and bone and rain and stone I’ll face Time and the Immortal Wind. Sing Time and the Immortal Wind, I say, The great healer of beast and man. But as one hand it makes, the other it takes, Time and the Immortal Wind. But in the Great Brunswick Forest Time stands regal, still. The immortal wind howls on in At the timelessness that here fills. For every kin to fall herein Springs a sapling in its stead. It’s the one lone to resist the throne Of Time and the Immortal Wind! But we are not unlike the wood That through the harsh wind throve. With all those who’ve gone and all those to come We stand in flowing groves. Shoulder to shoulder you and I stand With all who will ever have been. These words we will chant and we will withstand Time and the Immortal Wind! |
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7. | Singer of Ageless Times | 04:30 | Show lyrics |
Let me sing you songs from the Maritimes; Let me sing you songs from the summertide. Come times of plenty, times of none, As Lady Prosperity comes and goes, As Good Lady Fortune makes her rounds Of the Earth. A singer of these times, These ever changeless times. With Brunswick strings and Scotia pipes, A singer of these times, These ever changeless times. Our songs they carry on long past the grave. The songs of our forebears strong remain. No distance from them in age or in place As we strum and sing the notes of our forebears. Let me bring you tides from the Maritimes; Let me bring you tides from the wintertime. As pines and poplars shrug off the storms, And the halls and dwellings open their doors, And we know that what December darkness brought Is reversed. When Lady Prosperity rides ‘cross the land And the sun shines down on sea and forest, Wherever she treads — or not — we thrive. Tell me, how are we so different from our forebears? Let me bring you tides from the Maritimes, Ever changeless tides from the Maritimes. We still hail the summer, we still tell our tales. We still sing the winter, and toast with our ales. So I stand up and shout, my friends, “What shall Ever change?” |
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8. | Dark Sky Sanctuary | 04:14 | Show lyrics |
Here another journey ends, As too the sun lays to rest, Where stellar flame suffers no restraints— For me a passage earnt to time of stone. In this dark sky sanctuary, In this shrine of stellar light. Myriads only seen at night above the trees, In this dark sky sanctuary. A rite of stone in ‘lectric time To name the stars in their own light. Extratemporal mind brings introspective gifts, Binding to the shining myths above. |
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33:10 |
Live Off the Forest Floor
Members | |
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Band members | |
Brendan Hayter | Bass (tracks 1, 2, 5, 6, 7), Guitars (acoustic) (tracks 3, 4, 8), Vocals (backing) |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars (acoustic) |
Keegan MC | Fiddle (tracks 1, 2, 5, 6, 7), Bass (tracks 3, 4, 8) |
Guest/Session | |
Alex Storey | Cajon |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Joel Violette | Producer, Editing |
Colin Streight | Engineering, Mixing, Mastering |
Nicki Violette | Photography |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Green Man of East Canada | 03:34 | Show lyrics |
I chanced to meet a strange man Down a Brunswick lane, Dressed in brown and a vagabond’s cloak A timeless image from the wood. I stopped and said to him Before he passed me by, "Stranger to these Maritime shores, spare me a moment of your time!" Green Man of East Canada Dark Shores of Northumberland Green man, sing, man, of your journey ’cross the waves! I’m no stranger to these lands, Though they’re not my own. I left with the changed tides To call this Brunswick kingdom home. Its shores alive with green, Its cities cloaked in trees Like the halcyon of my youth, Thousands of old summers past. I wear the emblems of the summer and I bear its pulsing song. I carry it through winter, I spread it when the snows have gone. Across the jagged seas I traveled With the first to cross them, And spread my arms across the richness of these misted lands. |
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2. | Here I Am a Fortress | 06:21 | Show lyrics |
Here I am a fortress. Heavy were my days; sleep wore my nights; Toil was my bane; but stone was my will. O my allies in blood and in spirit— Together we roam the brimming glades! But on my own I face the wailing winds Of languor, so here I am a fortress. Fashioned from the surrounding land, I stand against the winds. Here strength I summon and travel inward; I see into the earth. Its ore I gather, and smelt out in the depths of this fortress mine. So when we gather, then I emerge And I bear for you shimmering ore. Among the rocks did I lay; among the roots did I slumber; In the earth did I sleep; I was devoured by the sun. I was washed into the sea; I became naught but purpose; But then I rose and strong I stood Against the weight I chose to carry. A fortress I am and here I stand, Fashioned I am from this land. Life is not simply to breathe, Nor to break back for others’ intents. Life is to grow, to struggle free, To assert one’s own unique existence. A fortress of stone is what I am. Fashioned I am from this land, First crumbled down, down, Indiscernible from Earth. |
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3. | Via Canadensis | 03:11 | Show lyrics |
Vast river flows a mari usque ad mare, Tethering cities so distant. We ride to see the stones, the great standing stones They tower like the memories and myths they mark. On we go — to the standing stones we’ve made! On we go — to the standing stones we’ve yet to raise! So stand the stones a mari usque ad mare, Tethering times so distant. As we stand in awe, we prepare to carve out our own. On we go — anchored in the earth. On we go — megalithic art for these transient times. |
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4. | Once Fireveined | 03:52 | Show lyrics |
Brother of mine, How could you thrive in constant peace? Thrive without the struggle for always more? One only lives when at war. Sister, what tidings shall you bring? What spoils and vict’ries shall you ever sing? For what do you stand in your idleness? From what great journey do you rest? The peace for which you long is but rest for the road ahead. If you’ve yet to wander, why do you rest like the dead? The peace for which you long Is but rest for the road ahead. Fire I’ve lost, and fire I’ve found. I sing to you, ye dead above the ground. Brother of mine, What of the lightning that governed you? What scattered the clouds, O great thunderhead? When Man is at peace, he is dead. Sister, once fire-veined, What quenched your heart, simmered the blood? O former champion of the road unled, Why do you rest like the dead? The peace for which you long is but rest for the road ahead. If you’ve yet to wander, why do you rest like the dead? The peace for which you long Is but rest for the road ahead. Fire I’ve lost, and fire I’ve found. I sing to you, ye dead above the ground. |
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5. | Maritime Shores | 03:43 | Show lyrics |
I’ve seen this continent’s oceans, And all its creatures in motion. But above it all for splendour stands the briny Maritimes. Where the mist and the rain Blast life into me, And the old white pines Stand guard over the sea. Though I have left her as ofttime before Oh how I long for her Maritime shores I am but one of a thousand of lore Oh how I long for her Maritime shores Though I’ve lost myself in the greenery, And all other distant scenery, None match the climes Of the misty Maritimes. Elsewhere pipes are singing, And strings and drums are ringing. But none with the life of the briny Maritimes. |
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6. | Goose River | 04:04 | Show lyrics |
We’ll walk through the day, on down to the bay We’ll claim old Goose River Point So haul on your mugs and growler jugs it’s a long road, but not as long as a dry road We’ll drink the ale and spin many a tale of our comrade’s final days. We’ll pour out the beer for the one not here Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers once more, me b’y. It’s a long road and a sorrowed load. It’s a long road and a sorrowed load, Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers, once more, to ya, Sloan. Where could we throw the ash, but the end of the path at the swirling Goose River Point? He’ll stand with the trees, and run with the streams where he once roamed, and now can ever again roam. And again next year we’ll feast out here an annual march to the sea. We’ll raise up a toast on the rocky coast: Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers, once more, to ya, Sloan. |
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7. | Fires That Light the Earth | 11:16 | Show lyrics |
There must be more, much more, to life than this electric, egocentric, current circumstance. On this Earth, there must be more than this for Homo sapiens. Give me sun and give me song, and I will charge our blood with ancient life. Give me sun and give me song—and the years I’ll sing us back to ice. Look to the sky, look to the hills, to ground you in this electric age. Look to the folk and the past they fill to ground you in this electric age. As you journey on through these modern times, walk heavy through the barriers made. Metachthonia! Metachthonia! Chthonic times are gone. Metachthonia! Metachthonia! Metachthonic times live on. Look not to these modern times—where diodes shine over the sun—to solve questions older than life, for the times only concern with themselves. Lost in urban sprawl. Spiritual withdrawal. Lights and screens decide all dreams. The distant landscape breathed and I heard the sky above—it groaned clouded words. Followed the chthonic call; journey to the coastal wall, where great trees stand across wide whispering land. The sound of waves striking cliffs was speech, conversation. Eternal tones, in the marrow of my bones: “And the fires burn bright. And they burn in number. Oh how they burn all across the Earth. And the fires burn all across the glowing Earth. And the fires burn for any who wish to find them. Any who wish to find them.” I plant my feet upon the cliff and breathe the spray of the sea. Arms wider than the thundering sky. I roared out to all I could see and stretched flame into the sky, though immersed in mist and spray. The fire that surged from heart to fist was ready to consume me. I saw the threads appear in the air: not quite cloud, not quite vine, glowing with each pulse, reaching high from my chest to the clouds. And the sky broke with crashing light and sound to deafen Thor himself. Lightning lit the ethereal braid. All went black. |
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8. | Black Sky | 03:52 | Show lyrics |
Stars are all we have to connect our diverging lives. Look at the sky from where you are. And know that though we are so far, we see the same stars. Stars are all we have to connect our distant lives. So what becomes of you and I under this fading Winter sky? This death black sky. And so we lie, you and I, torn apart by the miles. And so we die, you and I, under the same black sky. |
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39:53 |
Insula
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Drum programming |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Joel Violette | Producer, Engineering, Mixing, Cover art, Layout |
Siegfried Meier | Mastering |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Spectres in Mist | 05:11 | Show lyrics |
See the spectres in the mist! Hear them as they howl! Hear them as they ice these veins of mine. Hail! Hero on high, who can see above the fog, Who has lived above the clouds, how can I thrive in these times? See the spectres in the mist! Hear them as they howl and ice these veins of mine. Hail! Traveller in mist, down among the roots, Whose eyes leap at every gust of wind. Go! Learn what inhabits the mist; nevermore to simply fear. He who knows the risks owns the future. He who fears the world is servant to the past. Traveller in mist, find the healers, Find the wise of your land! Beware the murk of the poison-mixers! Go! Traveller in mist! Find the healers of the land! Drink of their knowledge, but only theirs. Beware the poison-mixers! They wish to distort; they wish to belittle; Drag you down with them. See the spectres in the mist! Hear them as they howl and ice the veins of mankind. Hail! Traveller in mist with veins of summer flame, Bear aloft that warmth and wisdom. Knowing the shadow and shade, knowing safe paths, Knowing clear groves, brimming streams. Together, apart, we will get through this time of mist. |
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2. | Carry the Sun | 05:53 | Show lyrics |
I will venture to the depths, to the very bedrock of this fortress. There I will delve and find there I will new riches for us all. Bringers of the sun we can be. Dark the times, but might is in me and might is in you. Bringers of the sun we can be. And this mist will lift, and the days will return. When we are to emerge, shall we not then emerge greater? Shall we not show ourselves: not only are we unbowed, but greater. Strong enough to carry the sun. Warrior doffs armour, becomes Minstrel. Explorer drops compass, becomes Weaver. Hunter unstrings bow and tends the scarecrow. All become more for the greater. Bringers of the sun we can be. Dark the times, but might is in me and might is in you. Bringers of the sun we can be. And this mist will lift, and the days will return. When we are to emerge, shall we not then emerge greater? Shall we not show ourselves: not only are we unbowed, but greater. Strong enough to carry the sun. We’ve the chance to break any mould into which have slumped, And shrug off the shards, and in the morning sun, Stand now taller and greater. Weave the change to break any mould into which we have slumped, And shrug off the shards, and in the morning sun, Stand now taller and greater. Into the unknown, I carry the sun. Heave ancient fire through marsh and bog. Are you with me, ye bearers of light in darkest of times? Are you with me? Bear your light upon this earth. |
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3. | Until Ebb the Waters | 04:30 | Show lyrics |
A great flood has beset this hill-fort, water to our gates. The air is clear for miles around us, now an insula! That which would command the valley stands alone. The land we know lies flooded below! Until ebb the waters, islands are we all. I see for miles around; islands are we all. There are those who need my aid. Those to whom I’ve sworn oaths. Signal fires, calls from the ramparts. I will send all I can to those to whom I’m bound. Until ebb the waters, islands are we all. I see for miles around; Islands are we all. Until the waters ebb. The waters soon will ebb. Insular, one we are. One against these tides. Insular, one we are. Until ebb the waters high. Ancient winds all around, lift the osprey high. Ancient winds let her see our thousand fires bright. Ancient winds all around, lift the osprey high. Let her see our thousand fires shimmering as one. |
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4. | Heave the Oars | 05:39 | Show lyrics |
Gathered round this glowing heartwood spectacle of ours, Eager are we all to heave her hallowed oars. Once a shipless tribe, now shipwrights all. We heed our hero’s words, our conquerer of skies, Who long ago won wisdom up among the nebulae: We know the rocks and bergs; we know the mind of mist. We know our journey’s end; we know whom we champion. To golden uncharted lands we must go, Where the times have never yet called us. Now to heave the oars. Some days we brave the lashing rain, drenched to the skin. Others we’ve as ally the sun and the wind. Some days inward we go! We chart the heartlands. Some days outward we go! We expand our maps. Sustenance and coruscation, our primeval spoils. Outward or inward, always breaking new soil. The most plenteous mine must its vast surface know. The most bounteous land has sibylline bedrock below. To golden uncharted lands we must go, Where the times have never yet called us. Now to heave the oars. Forward to the woodheart, heave those oars! To lands unknown! We map a course to the unseen heart of our lands. These verdant misted lands are our past and our future. A summer rainstorm comes, Sweeping darkness on the land. The pull of its heart is felt for miles. Images flash in peripheral paths, howls echo in the distance. Our course now deeper than ever before; Never has the wood let us in. Mist and rain give way to frost and time. Deep now in the heartlands, heave those oars! To the lands unknown! Smell the mist as it gathers, old and brimming with time. Close now to the woodheart, heave those oars! Push the bounds of our time. We have found the Ice Age heart! These marrowlands! Standing deep in snow with lungs of flame! Now back home with our prize! The lands will brim with what we’ve found here: euphony. Next we journey outward! To the sea. |
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21:13 |
Canada 2010
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Lyrics, Songwriting |
David Gold (R.I.P. 2011) | Drums |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Miguel Gauthier | Mixing |
Andy Krehm | Mastering |
Joel Violette | Artwork, Layout |
Chris Holgersson | Photography |
Adam Gillis | Logo |
Brett Goodchild | Artwork, Layout, Logo (circa 2010) |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Black Sky | 03:48 | Show lyrics |
As we tread further on our separate paths, we fade further out of sight. Stars are all we have to connect our diverging lives. Look at the sky from where you are. And know that though we are so far, we see the same stars. Stars are all we have to connect our distant lives. So what becomes of you and I under this fading Winter sky? This death black sky. As we walked for hours, stars lit the forest of our past. You and I faded like the night sky, fearing to leave the beaten path. And so we lie, you and I, torn apart by the miles. And so we die, you and I, under the same black sky. I hope someday you find the fire to leave the comfort of the beaten path. |
|||
2. | Set Us Ablaze | 06:10 | Show lyrics |
Raise your torch to the sky! Fight this darkest of nights! Raise your torch to the sky! Raise your torch to the sky! The light will burn and set us all ablaze, as the sunwheel turns through these dark winter days. Moonless sky, breathing the dark. We burn as the sun, sole bearers of light. Winter black engulfs us all. Shadows dance from the torch, and summon the sun to life. Rise in the Eastern Sky! Chase the eternal archer across celestial planes. Bearer of the Ancient Fire, stand and take thy place atop this midwinter stage! Raise your torch to the sky! Raise your torch to the sky! Earn thy name Invictus, again! Moonless sky, breathing the dark. We burn as the sun, sole bearers of light. Winter black engulfs us all. Shadows dance from the torch, and summon the sun to life. Born in the Eastern Sky. Cast thy light upon these dark winter days! Bearer of the Ancient Fire, stand and take thy place atop this midwinter stage! |
|||
3. | Misted Shores | 04:43 | Show lyrics |
Who crossed the Great Atlantic to beach their ships on misted shores, who rode the eastern stormwinds and heaved on the heathen oar. From the land of ice and the land of fire. Past the glacier isle, past the wooded sandy shore. Drink from her flowing waters! Taste of her cascade streams! Hunt from her brimming forest! Vinland Drink from her flowing waters! Taste of her cascade streams! Hunt from her brimming forest! But Eastern winds found you, and carried Skaldic songs from home. And so your spirits dragged you, back to the Allfather’s shores. To the land of ice, and the land of fire. Past the wooded land, past the isle of ice and stone. Sail, Northlanders, ye masters of the Western Sea! Heave Away! Rape the waves with rabid oars! Sail, Northlanders, ye masters of the Western Sea! Tell the saga of this new found land of fjords. Our shores are strewn with iron, our fields are sown with runes, along the coast where the ancient winds still blow. In the air we still can hear the skalds sing their haunting tunes. They are calling back the wayward spirits. They are calling us home. |
|||
4. | Slake the Earth | 04:56 | Show lyrics |
Pure April rain replaced by dead April heat. Would it ever rain again? Black earth cracking. Scorched by the sun. The rivers it drained left us dying in the dust. The world changes when it starts to rain. Green radiates against the grey. And we can find solace from the torch. But it remained Sol Invictus, unconquered idol, fire orb primordial. Burning steadfast, in harbouring skies. Blistered vastlands reeked of immolation. The world changes when it starts to rain. Green radiates against the grey. And we can find solace from the torch. Venite imbriferae ut terram alatis! Venite nubes ut levamen donetis! Pluvie, ubi es, ibi, vita est. The mist will rise, in a haze, to the sky. Iubar aureus extulerat Sol flabat adhuc eurus... Then came the rain and it slaked the Earth. Spewed across the land and fed the rivers. So poured the rain as it slaked the Earth. Rising from the ground an ethereal fragrance. Pluvie Optime, multas tibi gratias agimus. |
|||
5. | Through the Ice | 04:59 | Show lyrics |
Many who die deserve life. Many who live deserve death. So live with fire, laugh at fate, bare your teeth as you draw your final breath. Life’s a journey ’cross a frozen lake, wind howling in your face. Never know how solid your steps are until the moment you fall through the ice. We all march into the unknown, time whipping our backs. Pushing us ever forward, until the moment we fall through the ice Drowning in the blackest water, one mis-taken step. Laden with past choices, pure consequence pulling me down We never know when we’re to die; we only choose what we do with our time. Too many let it go to waste; I cannot let this be my fate. A hand burst from the water, veins frozen through. Inch by inch, hour by hour, I dragged myself back onto the ice Ad mortem gelor. Sed perseverabo, et hoc superabo. |
|||
6. | Fire Still Burns | 04:10 | Show lyrics |
Wind still blows. Rain still falls. Earth still alive. Time still burning wildly. I see the lowering darkness, shades beyond black. Stars are points on this ancient map. The only warming solace in this vile place, the only link to the old, forsaken ways. It’s like a breath inhaled from an air so sick to suffer existence in this tar-laden pit. Pale dead lights offer no heat. Toxic smoke air, poison so sweet. Moon still evades. Sun still pursues. Though chilled by the night, fire still burns inside me. I see the lowering darkness, shades beyond black. Stars are points on this ancient map. The only warming solace in this vile place, the only link to the old, forsaken ways. All the ancient gods are man’s embodiment of nature. The portrayal of our ancestors, symbolic of the forces that created us all. The gods of old are with us still. Every rainfall. Every breath drawn. With the rising of the morning sun, I look to the east and see it has begun: a new dawn approaching, a return from abroad. I depart this wasteland, back to the green of the gods. |
|||
7. | She, Arboreal | 04:38 | Show lyrics |
She radiates across the skyline. I have swept through her oak, maple, and pine as a spirit released from corporeal ways, or a man who is still from the kill ablaze. And though I’ve seen her aflame in the sun, just as I have in the gloom of the rain, and as I have in dead winter days, her beauty abides in all her shades. A thousand times and she’s never lived at all. She, arboreal. The silence stills the morning air so clean as if she’s holding her breath in waiting. She beckons through her cascading greens; in susurrations she speaks my name. A thousand times and she’s never lived at all. She, arboreal. |
|||
8. | Vastland | 04:19 | Show lyrics |
Feel the atavism coursing back through time. Bringing forth ancient fire, Life, in its purest form. It shall be embraced. It shall light the torches of the hordes. By this flame we will march across the vastlands. Along rivers of ice, standards of black unfurled. It shall burn in our veins, across the ages, through the haze. Veni, ignis! Veni, fere! Arde, ignis, acerrime! We will tread on paths overgrown throughout time, neglected by mankind, reclaimed by wilderness. Until the end of days, one with the winds and storms, we will carry on, ever ablaze with primal flame. Veni, ignis! Veni, fere! Arde, ignis, acerrime! Rise from the Earth, Bearing flames primordial. Alive at last, bearing time eternal. |
|||
37:43 |
Canada 2010
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Lyrics, Songwriting |
David Gold (R.I.P. 2011) | Drums |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Brett Goodchild | Artwork, Layout, Logo (circa 2010) |
Miguel Gauthier | Mixing |
Andy Krehm | Mastering |
Joel Violette | Artwork, Layout |
Chris Holgersson | Photography |
Adam Gillis | Logo |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Black Sky | 03:48 | Show lyrics |
As we tread further on our separate paths, we fade further out of sight. Stars are all we have to connect our diverging lives. Look at the sky from where you are. And know that though we are so far, we see the same stars. Stars are all we have to connect our distant lives. So what becomes of you and I under this fading Winter sky? This death black sky. As we walked for hours, stars lit the forest of our past. You and I faded like the night sky, fearing to leave the beaten path. And so we lie, you and I, torn apart by the miles. And so we die, you and I, under the same black sky. I hope someday you find the fire to leave the comfort of the beaten path. |
|||
2. | Set Us Ablaze | 06:10 | Show lyrics |
Raise your torch to the sky! Fight this darkest of nights! Raise your torch to the sky! Raise your torch to the sky! The light will burn and set us all ablaze, as the sunwheel turns through these dark winter days. Moonless sky, breathing the dark. We burn as the sun, sole bearers of light. Winter black engulfs us all. Shadows dance from the torch, and summon the sun to life. Rise in the Eastern Sky! Chase the eternal archer across celestial planes. Bearer of the Ancient Fire, stand and take thy place atop this midwinter stage! Raise your torch to the sky! Raise your torch to the sky! Earn thy name Invictus, again! Moonless sky, breathing the dark. We burn as the sun, sole bearers of light. Winter black engulfs us all. Shadows dance from the torch, and summon the sun to life. Born in the Eastern Sky. Cast thy light upon these dark winter days! Bearer of the Ancient Fire, stand and take thy place atop this midwinter stage! |
|||
3. | Misted Shores | 04:43 | Show lyrics |
Who crossed the Great Atlantic to beach their ships on misted shores, who rode the eastern stormwinds and heaved on the heathen oar. From the land of ice and the land of fire. Past the glacier isle, past the wooded sandy shore. Drink from her flowing waters! Taste of her cascade streams! Hunt from her brimming forest! Vinland Drink from her flowing waters! Taste of her cascade streams! Hunt from her brimming forest! But Eastern winds found you, and carried Skaldic songs from home. And so your spirits dragged you, back to the Allfather’s shores. To the land of ice, and the land of fire. Past the wooded land, past the isle of ice and stone. Sail, Northlanders, ye masters of the Western Sea! Heave Away! Rape the waves with rabid oars! Sail, Northlanders, ye masters of the Western Sea! Tell the saga of this new found land of fjords. Our shores are strewn with iron, our fields are sown with runes, along the coast where the ancient winds still blow. In the air we still can hear the skalds sing their haunting tunes. They are calling back the wayward spirits. They are calling us home. |
|||
4. | Slake the Earth | 04:56 | Show lyrics |
Pure April rain replaced by dead April heat. Would it ever rain again? Black earth cracking. Scorched by the sun. The rivers it drained left us dying in the dust. The world changes when it starts to rain. Green radiates against the grey. And we can find solace from the torch. But it remained Sol Invictus, unconquered idol, fire orb primordial. Burning steadfast, in harbouring skies. Blistered vastlands reeked of immolation. The world changes when it starts to rain. Green radiates against the grey. And we can find solace from the torch. Venite imbriferae ut terram alatis! Venite nubes ut levamen donetis! Pluvie, ubi es, ibi, vita est. The mist will rise, in a haze, to the sky. Iubar aureus extulerat Sol flabat adhuc eurus... Then came the rain and it slaked the Earth. Spewed across the land and fed the rivers. So poured the rain as it slaked the Earth. Rising from the ground an ethereal fragrance. Pluvie Optime, multas tibi gratias agimus. |
|||
5. | Through the Ice | 04:59 | Show lyrics |
Many who die deserve life. Many who live deserve death. So live with fire, laugh at fate, bare your teeth as you draw your final breath. Life’s a journey ’cross a frozen lake, wind howling in your face. Never know how solid your steps are until the moment you fall through the ice. We all march into the unknown, time whipping our backs. Pushing us ever forward, until the moment we fall through the ice Drowning in the blackest water, one mis-taken step. Laden with past choices, pure consequence pulling me down We never know when we’re to die; we only choose what we do with our time. Too many let it go to waste; I cannot let this be my fate. A hand burst from the water, veins frozen through. Inch by inch, hour by hour, I dragged myself back onto the ice Ad mortem gelor. Sed perseverabo, et hoc superabo. |
|||
6. | Fire Still Burns | 04:10 | Show lyrics |
Wind still blows. Rain still falls. Earth still alive. Time still burning wildly. I see the lowering darkness, shades beyond black. Stars are points on this ancient map. The only warming solace in this vile place, the only link to the old, forsaken ways. It’s like a breath inhaled from an air so sick to suffer existence in this tar-laden pit. Pale dead lights offer no heat. Toxic smoke air, poison so sweet. Moon still evades. Sun still pursues. Though chilled by the night, fire still burns inside me. I see the lowering darkness, shades beyond black. Stars are points on this ancient map. The only warming solace in this vile place, the only link to the old, forsaken ways. All the ancient gods are man’s embodiment of nature. The portrayal of our ancestors, symbolic of the forces that created us all. The gods of old are with us still. Every rainfall. Every breath drawn. With the rising of the morning sun, I look to the east and see it has begun: a new dawn approaching, a return from abroad. I depart this wasteland, back to the green of the gods. |
|||
7. | She, Arboreal | 04:38 | Show lyrics |
She radiates across the skyline. I have swept through her oak, maple, and pine as a spirit released from corporeal ways, or a man who is still from the kill ablaze. And though I’ve seen her aflame in the sun, just as I have in the gloom of the rain, and as I have in dead winter days, her beauty abides in all her shades. A thousand times and she’s never lived at all. She, arboreal. The silence stills the morning air so clean as if she’s holding her breath in waiting. She beckons through her cascading greens; in susurrations she speaks my name. A thousand times and she’s never lived at all. She, arboreal. |
|||
8. | Vastland | 04:19 | Show lyrics |
Feel the atavism coursing back through time. Bringing forth ancient fire, Life, in its purest form. It shall be embraced. It shall light the torches of the hordes. By this flame we will march across the vastlands. Along rivers of ice, standards of black unfurled. It shall burn in our veins, across the ages, through the haze. Veni, ignis! Veni, fere! Arde, ignis, acerrime! We will tread on paths overgrown throughout time, neglected by mankind, reclaimed by wilderness. Until the end of days, one with the winds and storms, we will carry on, ever ablaze with primal flame. Veni, ignis! Veni, fere! Arde, ignis, acerrime! Rise from the Earth, Bearing flames primordial. Alive at last, bearing time eternal. |
|||
37:43 |
Canada 2010
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Lyrics, Songwriting |
David Gold (R.I.P. 2011) | Drums |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Brett Goodchild | Artwork, Layout, Logo (circa 2010) |
Miguel Gauthier | Mixing |
Andy Krehm | Mastering |
Joel Violette | Artwork, Layout |
Chris Holgersson | Photography |
Adam Gillis | Logo |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Side A | |||
1. | Black Sky | 03:48 | Show lyrics |
As we tread further on our separate paths, we fade further out of sight. Stars are all we have to connect our diverging lives. Look at the sky from where you are. And know that though we are so far, we see the same stars. Stars are all we have to connect our distant lives. So what becomes of you and I under this fading Winter sky? This death black sky. As we walked for hours, stars lit the forest of our past. You and I faded like the night sky, fearing to leave the beaten path. And so we lie, you and I, torn apart by the miles. And so we die, you and I, under the same black sky. I hope someday you find the fire to leave the comfort of the beaten path. |
|||
2. | Set Us Ablaze | 06:10 | Show lyrics |
Raise your torch to the sky! Fight this darkest of nights! Raise your torch to the sky! Raise your torch to the sky! The light will burn and set us all ablaze, as the sunwheel turns through these dark winter days. Moonless sky, breathing the dark. We burn as the sun, sole bearers of light. Winter black engulfs us all. Shadows dance from the torch, and summon the sun to life. Rise in the Eastern Sky! Chase the eternal archer across celestial planes. Bearer of the Ancient Fire, stand and take thy place atop this midwinter stage! Raise your torch to the sky! Raise your torch to the sky! Earn thy name Invictus, again! Moonless sky, breathing the dark. We burn as the sun, sole bearers of light. Winter black engulfs us all. Shadows dance from the torch, and summon the sun to life. Born in the Eastern Sky. Cast thy light upon these dark winter days! Bearer of the Ancient Fire, stand and take thy place atop this midwinter stage! |
|||
3. | Misted Shores | 04:43 | Show lyrics |
Who crossed the Great Atlantic to beach their ships on misted shores, who rode the eastern stormwinds and heaved on the heathen oar. From the land of ice and the land of fire. Past the glacier isle, past the wooded sandy shore. Drink from her flowing waters! Taste of her cascade streams! Hunt from her brimming forest! Vinland Drink from her flowing waters! Taste of her cascade streams! Hunt from her brimming forest! But Eastern winds found you, and carried Skaldic songs from home. And so your spirits dragged you, back to the Allfather’s shores. To the land of ice, and the land of fire. Past the wooded land, past the isle of ice and stone. Sail, Northlanders, ye masters of the Western Sea! Heave Away! Rape the waves with rabid oars! Sail, Northlanders, ye masters of the Western Sea! Tell the saga of this new found land of fjords. Our shores are strewn with iron, our fields are sown with runes, along the coast where the ancient winds still blow. In the air we still can hear the skalds sing their haunting tunes. They are calling back the wayward spirits. They are calling us home. |
|||
4. | Slake the Earth | 04:56 | Show lyrics |
Pure April rain replaced by dead April heat. Would it ever rain again? Black earth cracking. Scorched by the sun. The rivers it drained left us dying in the dust. The world changes when it starts to rain. Green radiates against the grey. And we can find solace from the torch. But it remained Sol Invictus, unconquered idol, fire orb primordial. Burning steadfast, in harbouring skies. Blistered vastlands reeked of immolation. The world changes when it starts to rain. Green radiates against the grey. And we can find solace from the torch. Venite imbriferae ut terram alatis! Venite nubes ut levamen donetis! Pluvie, ubi es, ibi, vita est. The mist will rise, in a haze, to the sky. Iubar aureus extulerat Sol flabat adhuc eurus... Then came the rain and it slaked the Earth. Spewed across the land and fed the rivers. So poured the rain as it slaked the Earth. Rising from the ground an ethereal fragrance. Pluvie Optime, multas tibi gratias agimus. |
|||
Side B | |||
5. | Through the Ice | 04:59 | Show lyrics |
Many who die deserve life. Many who live deserve death. So live with fire, laugh at fate, bare your teeth as you draw your final breath. Life’s a journey ’cross a frozen lake, wind howling in your face. Never know how solid your steps are until the moment you fall through the ice. We all march into the unknown, time whipping our backs. Pushing us ever forward, until the moment we fall through the ice Drowning in the blackest water, one mis-taken step. Laden with past choices, pure consequence pulling me down We never know when we’re to die; we only choose what we do with our time. Too many let it go to waste; I cannot let this be my fate. A hand burst from the water, veins frozen through. Inch by inch, hour by hour, I dragged myself back onto the ice Ad mortem gelor. Sed perseverabo, et hoc superabo. |
|||
6. | Fire Still Burns | 04:10 | Show lyrics |
Wind still blows. Rain still falls. Earth still alive. Time still burning wildly. I see the lowering darkness, shades beyond black. Stars are points on this ancient map. The only warming solace in this vile place, the only link to the old, forsaken ways. It’s like a breath inhaled from an air so sick to suffer existence in this tar-laden pit. Pale dead lights offer no heat. Toxic smoke air, poison so sweet. Moon still evades. Sun still pursues. Though chilled by the night, fire still burns inside me. I see the lowering darkness, shades beyond black. Stars are points on this ancient map. The only warming solace in this vile place, the only link to the old, forsaken ways. All the ancient gods are man’s embodiment of nature. The portrayal of our ancestors, symbolic of the forces that created us all. The gods of old are with us still. Every rainfall. Every breath drawn. With the rising of the morning sun, I look to the east and see it has begun: a new dawn approaching, a return from abroad. I depart this wasteland, back to the green of the gods. |
|||
7. | She, Arboreal | 04:38 | Show lyrics |
She radiates across the skyline. I have swept through her oak, maple, and pine as a spirit released from corporeal ways, or a man who is still from the kill ablaze. And though I’ve seen her aflame in the sun, just as I have in the gloom of the rain, and as I have in dead winter days, her beauty abides in all her shades. A thousand times and she’s never lived at all. She, arboreal. The silence stills the morning air so clean as if she’s holding her breath in waiting. She beckons through her cascading greens; in susurrations she speaks my name. A thousand times and she’s never lived at all. She, arboreal. |
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8. | Vastland | 04:19 | Show lyrics |
Feel the atavism coursing back through time. Bringing forth ancient fire, Life, in its purest form. It shall be embraced. It shall light the torches of the hordes. By this flame we will march across the vastlands. Along rivers of ice, standards of black unfurled. It shall burn in our veins, across the ages, through the haze. Veni, ignis! Veni, fere! Arde, ignis, acerrime! We will tread on paths overgrown throughout time, neglected by mankind, reclaimed by wilderness. Until the end of days, one with the winds and storms, we will carry on, ever ablaze with primal flame. Veni, ignis! Veni, fere! Arde, ignis, acerrime! Rise from the Earth, Bearing flames primordial. Alive at last, bearing time eternal. |
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37:43 |
Canada 2010
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Lyrics, Songwriting |
David Gold (R.I.P. 2011) | Drums |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Brett Goodchild | Artwork, Layout, Logo (circa 2010) |
Miguel Gauthier | Mixing |
Andy Krehm | Mastering |
Joel Violette | Artwork, Layout |
Chris Holgersson | Photography |
Adam Gillis | Logo |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Black Sky | 03:48 | Show lyrics |
As we tread further on our separate paths, we fade further out of sight. Stars are all we have to connect our diverging lives. Look at the sky from where you are. And know that though we are so far, we see the same stars. Stars are all we have to connect our distant lives. So what becomes of you and I under this fading Winter sky? This death black sky. As we walked for hours, stars lit the forest of our past. You and I faded like the night sky, fearing to leave the beaten path. And so we lie, you and I, torn apart by the miles. And so we die, you and I, under the same black sky. I hope someday you find the fire to leave the comfort of the beaten path. |
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2. | Set Us Ablaze | 06:10 | Show lyrics |
Raise your torch to the sky! Fight this darkest of nights! Raise your torch to the sky! Raise your torch to the sky! The light will burn and set us all ablaze, as the sunwheel turns through these dark winter days. Moonless sky, breathing the dark. We burn as the sun, sole bearers of light. Winter black engulfs us all. Shadows dance from the torch, and summon the sun to life. Rise in the Eastern Sky! Chase the eternal archer across celestial planes. Bearer of the Ancient Fire, stand and take thy place atop this midwinter stage! Raise your torch to the sky! Raise your torch to the sky! Earn thy name Invictus, again! Moonless sky, breathing the dark. We burn as the sun, sole bearers of light. Winter black engulfs us all. Shadows dance from the torch, and summon the sun to life. Born in the Eastern Sky. Cast thy light upon these dark winter days! Bearer of the Ancient Fire, stand and take thy place atop this midwinter stage! |
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3. | Misted Shores | 04:43 | Show lyrics |
Who crossed the Great Atlantic to beach their ships on misted shores, who rode the eastern stormwinds and heaved on the heathen oar. From the land of ice and the land of fire. Past the glacier isle, past the wooded sandy shore. Drink from her flowing waters! Taste of her cascade streams! Hunt from her brimming forest! Vinland Drink from her flowing waters! Taste of her cascade streams! Hunt from her brimming forest! But Eastern winds found you, and carried Skaldic songs from home. And so your spirits dragged you, back to the Allfather’s shores. To the land of ice, and the land of fire. Past the wooded land, past the isle of ice and stone. Sail, Northlanders, ye masters of the Western Sea! Heave Away! Rape the waves with rabid oars! Sail, Northlanders, ye masters of the Western Sea! Tell the saga of this new found land of fjords. Our shores are strewn with iron, our fields are sown with runes, along the coast where the ancient winds still blow. In the air we still can hear the skalds sing their haunting tunes. They are calling back the wayward spirits. They are calling us home. |
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4. | Slake the Earth | 04:56 | Show lyrics |
Pure April rain replaced by dead April heat. Would it ever rain again? Black earth cracking. Scorched by the sun. The rivers it drained left us dying in the dust. The world changes when it starts to rain. Green radiates against the grey. And we can find solace from the torch. But it remained Sol Invictus, unconquered idol, fire orb primordial. Burning steadfast, in harbouring skies. Blistered vastlands reeked of immolation. The world changes when it starts to rain. Green radiates against the grey. And we can find solace from the torch. Venite imbriferae ut terram alatis! Venite nubes ut levamen donetis! Pluvie, ubi es, ibi, vita est. The mist will rise, in a haze, to the sky. Iubar aureus extulerat Sol flabat adhuc eurus... Then came the rain and it slaked the Earth. Spewed across the land and fed the rivers. So poured the rain as it slaked the Earth. Rising from the ground an ethereal fragrance. Pluvie Optime, multas tibi gratias agimus. |
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5. | Through the Ice | 04:59 | Show lyrics |
Many who die deserve life. Many who live deserve death. So live with fire, laugh at fate, bare your teeth as you draw your final breath. Life’s a journey ’cross a frozen lake, wind howling in your face. Never know how solid your steps are until the moment you fall through the ice. We all march into the unknown, time whipping our backs. Pushing us ever forward, until the moment we fall through the ice Drowning in the blackest water, one mis-taken step. Laden with past choices, pure consequence pulling me down We never know when we’re to die; we only choose what we do with our time. Too many let it go to waste; I cannot let this be my fate. A hand burst from the water, veins frozen through. Inch by inch, hour by hour, I dragged myself back onto the ice Ad mortem gelor. Sed perseverabo, et hoc superabo. |
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6. | Fire Still Burns | 04:10 | Show lyrics |
Wind still blows. Rain still falls. Earth still alive. Time still burning wildly. I see the lowering darkness, shades beyond black. Stars are points on this ancient map. The only warming solace in this vile place, the only link to the old, forsaken ways. It’s like a breath inhaled from an air so sick to suffer existence in this tar-laden pit. Pale dead lights offer no heat. Toxic smoke air, poison so sweet. Moon still evades. Sun still pursues. Though chilled by the night, fire still burns inside me. I see the lowering darkness, shades beyond black. Stars are points on this ancient map. The only warming solace in this vile place, the only link to the old, forsaken ways. All the ancient gods are man’s embodiment of nature. The portrayal of our ancestors, symbolic of the forces that created us all. The gods of old are with us still. Every rainfall. Every breath drawn. With the rising of the morning sun, I look to the east and see it has begun: a new dawn approaching, a return from abroad. I depart this wasteland, back to the green of the gods. |
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7. | She, Arboreal | 04:38 | Show lyrics |
She radiates across the skyline. I have swept through her oak, maple, and pine as a spirit released from corporeal ways, or a man who is still from the kill ablaze. And though I’ve seen her aflame in the sun, just as I have in the gloom of the rain, and as I have in dead winter days, her beauty abides in all her shades. A thousand times and she’s never lived at all. She, arboreal. The silence stills the morning air so clean as if she’s holding her breath in waiting. She beckons through her cascading greens; in susurrations she speaks my name. A thousand times and she’s never lived at all. She, arboreal. |
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8. | Vastland | 04:19 | Show lyrics |
Feel the atavism coursing back through time. Bringing forth ancient fire, Life, in its purest form. It shall be embraced. It shall light the torches of the hordes. By this flame we will march across the vastlands. Along rivers of ice, standards of black unfurled. It shall burn in our veins, across the ages, through the haze. Veni, ignis! Veni, fere! Arde, ignis, acerrime! We will tread on paths overgrown throughout time, neglected by mankind, reclaimed by wilderness. Until the end of days, one with the winds and storms, we will carry on, ever ablaze with primal flame. Veni, ignis! Veni, fere! Arde, ignis, acerrime! Rise from the Earth, Bearing flames primordial. Alive at last, bearing time eternal. |
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37:43 |
Wanderer on the Continent of Saplings
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Brendan Hayter | Bass |
Rae Amitay | Drums, Vocals (backing) (tracks 2, 9) |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Keyboards, Tin whistle |
Guest/Session | |
Jeff Mott | Fiddle |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Siegfried Meier | Producer, Engineering, Mixing, Mastering |
Blake Menzies | Photography (cover) |
Brett Goodchild | Artwork, Layout |
Joel Violette | Producer, Engineering |
Diane Cole | Photography (additional) |
Dan Gonzalez | Engineering |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Lifelore Revelation | 04:12 | Show lyrics |
Digital contemplation Defames natural adoration, Denies mythical admiration. This is the song of our time. Analytical observation Defames mythical incarnation, Denies mytho-human integration. This is the song of our time. But we have seen the earth figure. In the shapes of our very thoughts. Searing proof— the analytic has its bounds. Lifelore revelation: Myth is the song of the Earth! Earthwide exultation: Death is the song of rebirth! Lifelong wheels of death and rebirth. So many times shall I die on this earth! Existential elevation Is as a cyclical renovation. Life’s a series of ritual deaths. Life’s a series of ritual rebirths. Cycles cascading cycles Cascading lives Cascading back, To time unknown. So we know. We wear the masks Worn a thousand times before We are the myths Born a thousand times of lore. Birth initiation. Earthlore captivation. Archetype manifestation. Another lifewheel rotation. To live, first you must die. To die, first you must wander. Wander the road of a thousand trials. Destroy the self; rebuilt it anew. |
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2. | Once Fireveined | 05:43 | Show lyrics |
Brother of mine, How could you thrive in constant peace? Thrive without the struggle for always more? One only lives when at war. Sister, what tidings shall you bring? What spoils and vict’ries shall you ever sing? For what do you stand in your idleness? From what great journey do you rest? The peace for which you long is but rest for the road ahead. If you’ve yet to wander, why do you rest like the dead? The peace for which you long Is but rest for the road ahead. Fire I’ve lost, and fire I’ve found. I sing to you, ye dead above the ground. Brother of mine, What of the lightning that governed you? What scattered the clouds, O great thunderhead? When Man is at peace, he is dead. Sister, once fire-veined, What quenched your heart, simmered the blood? O former champion of the road unled, Why do you rest like the dead? Brother, have you tasted the feast to defeat starvation? Sister, have you drawn The sweet breaths of flame that follow the hunt? To live is not to exist. To exist is not to live. Brother, have you smelled The distant smoke on the horizon? Sister, have you shot out After it with lungs of flame? To live is not to exist. To exist is not to live. The flesh to defeat starvation. The breaths of fire that follow the hunt. To live is to smell the smoke in the distance And sprint for it with fucking lungs of flame. And so on and on, You lay awake, and waste away. And so on and on, It pains me to the earth. Brother, how shall I sing your song at the end? Shall I sing that you were content to smoulder, but never to blaze? Sister, how shall I sing your song at the end? Shall I sing that you were content Not to burn, but to fade in the haze? |
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3. | We, the Torchbearers | 05:21 | Show lyrics |
The great torch falls to the soil There it flickers and roils Our sorrow won’t fuel it forever. We all must carry the torch We all must carry the memory Death! Takes your fire! Takes your innocence! When you bury a brother. Death! Takes your fire! Takes your innocence! When you bury a sister. You have to accept there is nothing to be done. You have to accept that this has happened. You have to accept this begins a new chapter. You have to accept you can never go back. Who you were is now dead. Heave the torch! Carry the torch! We all must carry the torch! We all must carry the memory. Hold fast! To the Earth! For rebirth! Thou modern Baldr. Hold fast! To the Earth! For rebirth! Thou modern Persephone! You are at a new beginning You are lost without bearings A sailor without the stars A chapter without yet words You shall find navigation. You shall find your story. |
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4. | Goose River (Mourners’ March) | 03:34 | Show lyrics |
We’ll walk through the day, on down to the bay We’ll claim old Goose River Point So haul on your mugs and growler jugs it’s a long road, but not as long as a dry road We’ll drink the ale and spin many a tale of our comrade’s final days. We’ll pour out the beer for the one not here Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers once more, me b’y. It’s a long road and a sorrowed load. It’s a long road and a sorrowed load, Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers, once more, to ya, Sloan. Where could we throw the ash, but the end of the path at the swirling Goose River Point? He’ll stand with the trees, and run with the streams where he once roamed, and now can ever again roam. And again next year we’ll feast out here an annual march to the sea. We’ll raise up a toast on the rocky coast: Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers, once more, to ya, Sloan. |
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5. | Bones in the Undertow | 05:14 | Show lyrics |
When she hardened with the cold we would cross her and marvel in her winter-white beauty. Until she awoke and claimed her first lives, in the spring. And as they roll on the riverbed below, Sustenance reclaimed by the neverending flow. Now she’s stolen another soul, Another captive within her ever Autumn-black beauty. And as they roll on the riverbed below, Sustenance reclaimed by the neverending flow. And as they dance on the riverbed below. Nothing but bones in the undertow. As she creates, so she destroys Livers of life must always repay. As she creates, so she regains. All whom she feeds she must one day reclaim. Go, Wanderer! Cross this black stream. Can you smell the distant fires on the horizon? Can you feel the pull of the unknown mists? Of the unknown forests stretching into the skyline? And on this dark day as I cross This New World Rhine with her own rings of gold. She will whip me and bewail me with the wind, To rip me into her depths, and claim me for herself As the trees on the shore stand silently and watch. As I stand out upon the shore, And cry out to the breathing current, Each and every one ‘neath this Maritime sun Grieves my brother; I must reclaim him. And so I throw myself to the riverbed below. Resurrection sought in the life-bearing flow. But as I roam on the riverbed below, I see nothing but bones in the undertow. As she creates, so she destroys. Livers of life must always repay. As she creates, so she destroys. All whom she feeds, she must one day reclaim. |
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6. | Wanderer on the Continent of Saplings | 05:20 | Show lyrics |
O Wanderer, on the continent of saplings, Tell me thy true name! Not the heritage you don. Nor the bloodline that you claim. Tell me not the clan to which you wish to cling. But what thou truly art, if thou even knowest it. Tell me what copse of saplings hath thee truly sprung? Whence art thou truly come? If thou even knowest it. Wanderer! Have you seen the mother forests, Across the raging seas? Wanderer! Have you seen the darkened landscape, Whence the elders cast their seeds? This! Is the Continent of Saplings. A monument of trees. This! Is the Continent of Saplings. From sea to shining sea. We, here, on the Continent of Saplings, Are seeds of distant lands. But we, on the Continent of Saplings, Take root in the same ground. We, here, on the Continent of Saplings Bear a thousand different forms. But we, on the Continent of Saplings Are of one kind. I have long roamed this continent, under the plague of the Nihilist. Before, it was not this way. Now all is death and decay. “Wherever he sets his hand there is a cry for the redeeming hero. The carrier of the shining blade, Whose blow, whose touch, whose existence, will liberate the land.” -Joseph Campbell Wanderer from the East! Lost on the trail. You cannot see, yourself, what you’re worth. I behold you, emerald veiled in shale. You must learn your worth, for the earth. The thousand trials will strip you bare to the hardened emerald soul. Only then can you carry the shining brand And smite the Nihilist from the land. A thousand tribes, of a thousand names. We are one kind; we are the same. A thousand tribes, of a thousand names. We’re in need of liberation. We are in need of a champion. “Dethrone the great Nihilist! Dethrone the great Nihilist!” |
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7. | Maritime Shores | 03:32 | Show lyrics |
I’ve seen this continent’s oceans, And all its creatures in motion. But above it all for splendour stands the briny Maritimes. Where the mist and the rain Blast life into me, And the old white pines Stand guard over the sea. Though I have left her as ofttime before Oh how I long for her Maritime shores I am but one of a thousand of lore Oh how I long for her Maritime shores Though I’ve lost myself in the greenery, And all other distant scenery, None match the climes Of the misty Maritimes. Elsewhere pipes are singing, And strings and drums are ringing. But none with the life of the briny Maritimes. |
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8. | View of a Million Trees | 07:22 | Show lyrics |
As I climb mount Parafac With the weight of the urns on my back I grieve you. I grieve the four of you. As I reach the snowbound rock With the weight of the earth on my back I must leave you. I must heave you to the winds. View of a million trees Brings this sorrowed king to his knees View of a million trees I am not what I once was Before these four deaths because Each tore out and gored my battered heart. A man awake but with no breath Part of me torn out with each death Alive, yet dying for rebirth. View of a million trees And a sky burial for thee Too much death around me To ever be reborn. Too much death around me. I must put these ghosts to rest. A thousand lakes crowned in pine Gleam beneath this mountain spine Relieve you Receive you in their midst. Would that you could see this aerial Altar at your skyward burial. Fly, fly on the four winds! View of a million trees. I feel the death release me. My spirit becoming clean. I feel the death release me. I lay what I was to rest. I can feel the silence, All across the land, Bearing peace and solace To this sorrowed man. I can feel the silence, Misting whisper song, Lifting off the burden I’ve worn for so long. |
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9. | Borea (Pyre of a Thousand Pine) | 05:22 | Show lyrics |
Would that the mists envelop me, Tendrils writhing upon my skin. And raise me, on this sombre night, This sombre night of october decline. Would that the mists envelop me, Tendrils writhing upon my skin. And raise me, on this sombre night, This sombre night of november renewal Raise me atop the pyre. The pyre of a thousand pine, Rising against the nightscape. A mountain, a bulwark, a fortress. The pyre of a thousand pine that, Hopeless against what was to come, And too noble to be felled by cruel hand, Laid themselves down. The mist seeped down from the hills, And took them in her tendrils. She piled them high, As a mountain against the nightscape. Set me atop. set the Wandering king ablaze. Burn this innocent flesh from my bones. O Borea, breathe life into me. Slake my dust bones, my ash skin. Draw the life of this fire so high. Draw it into me. That I might take the height of the white pine, That I might take the strength of the ironwood That I might take the wisdom of the oak That I might rise again. Rise, Wanderer. |
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10. | Elegy Across the Silence | 02:58 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
11. | Song of the Nihilist | 05:58 | Show lyrics |
The Nihilist followed me along my path. The Nihilist spoke to me. “You’ve come so far, O Wanderer Only to fall to me. “I am the Nihilist. And I will tell you of this world. I am the Nihilist. And I will shatter your world. “Nothing lasts forever but the hope that it would. Nothing you endeavour ever shines like it should. Look into the mirror, look to the dawn. All that you see will one day be gone. “You’ve come so far, Wanderer. With such a burden in tow. It all will end in madness. This you must surely know? “Is every step not a mountain? Does the wind not cut to the soul? It will all end in sadness. Why endeavour at all?” I felt the death in his voice. I felt the decay in his words. But it slid off like mountain snow; I’d been here before. Before I’d taken up the urns. Before I’d taken up the cause. When I myself had burned down To smouldering ash. From the white-hot coals At the base of my soul, I thank the celestia. For those refusing to tire Heaving bellows of the fire, Who stoked my dying heart. “Listen to me, O Nihilist. I will tell you what I have seen of this Earth. When I’ve had so much death in my time, What can one do but celebrate What little time there is to exist, What vibrant life burns in those around us. ‘Nothing lasts forever,’ Said the black hole to the star. Look into the mirror, See the black hole that you are. If every step is a mountain, enjoy the fucking view. And see the miles you’ve traveled stretching out below you. If nothing is forever, We are roaring stars. All that we endeavour Is all of who we are. Life is churning chaos Life is roaring fire All that we endeavour Is all of who we are. |
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12. | I Am the Viator | 05:07 | Show lyrics |
Stranded here on this wretched pier, The Nihilist dead in the earth. The four urns I bore, and the sorrow I wore Their ash and my grief spread o’er the earth. These burdens done, and these labours won, I can return to my home. These journeys done, and into mythos spun, I now return to my home. But it was a storm. A storm to kill. I was driven to these shores. It was a storm. A storm that killed. Oh how it took from me. Yet I remain. It’s high time for high tide On this bay of immeasurable loss. A rising tide will raise all ships, But mine is long since a sunken wreck. So I took an axe along the woods of my idols. I tapped the trunks to see which were hollow. Now I sail on this ship I’ve nailed together from the trees of felled idols. This past twelvemonth was a roiling storm; It killed, it stole, it blazed, it cracked. I howled, I fought, I wailed, I mourned; I was nought but a sunken wreck. But now I know what it is to throw Off a burden the weight of the earth. Now I burn with the strength I’ve earned And shift my gaze to the black clouds. Now I am the storm. A storm to kill. I shall decimate these shores. A cyclone at the end of a cycle. Above the world, my life stretching out to the end of the earth. The Wanderer is dead; I see it all. The Child (sees the Viator wending his way) Becomes the Wanderer on the Earth The Wanderer (led by the Mentor grey) Becomes the Viator on his path The Viator (seeing the Questioning Child) Becomes himself the Mentor wise. The Mentor (instructing The Wanderer wild) Becomes himself once more the Questioning Child The storm has gone, and the Wanderer is dead I am become more… I am the Viator Master of paths, singer of wars I am the Viator I return to the Maritimes I shall release it from death and decay I return to her misted climes I shall devour her death and decay I am the Viator I am the path, the journey, the war I am the Viator I return to the Maritimes I shall sing the songs I’ve earned. I return to her misted climes I shall teach the fires I’ve learned. I am the Viator. I am the path, the journey, the war. I am the Viator, Master of paths, singer of wars. |
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59:43 |
Wanderer on the Continent of Saplings
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Brendan Hayter | Bass |
Rae Amitay | Drums, Vocals (backing) (tracks 2, 9) |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Keyboards, Tin whistle |
Guest/Session | |
Jeff Mott | Fiddle |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Diane Cole | Photography (additional) |
Dan Gonzalez | Engineering |
Siegfried Meier | Producer, Engineering, Mixing, Mastering |
Blake Menzies | Photography (cover) |
Brett Goodchild | Artwork, Layout |
Joel Violette | Producer, Engineering |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Lifelore Revelation | 04:11 | Show lyrics |
Digital contemplation Defames natural adoration, Denies mythical admiration. This is the song of our time. Analytical observation Defames mythical incarnation, Denies mytho-human integration. This is the song of our time. But we have seen the earth figure. In the shapes of our very thoughts. Searing proof— the analytic has its bounds. Lifelore revelation: Myth is the song of the Earth! Earthwide exultation: Death is the song of rebirth! Lifelong wheels of death and rebirth. So many times shall I die on this earth! Existential elevation Is as a cyclical renovation. Life’s a series of ritual deaths. Life’s a series of ritual rebirths. Cycles cascading cycles Cascading lives Cascading back, To time unknown. So we know. We wear the masks Worn a thousand times before We are the myths Born a thousand times of lore. Birth initiation. Earthlore captivation. Archetype manifestation. Another lifewheel rotation. To live, first you must die. To die, first you must wander. Wander the road of a thousand trials. Destroy the self; rebuilt it anew. |
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2. | Once Fireveined | 05:42 | Show lyrics |
Brother of mine, How could you thrive in constant peace? Thrive without the struggle for always more? One only lives when at war. Sister, what tidings shall you bring? What spoils and vict’ries shall you ever sing? For what do you stand in your idleness? From what great journey do you rest? The peace for which you long is but rest for the road ahead. If you’ve yet to wander, why do you rest like the dead? The peace for which you long Is but rest for the road ahead. Fire I’ve lost, and fire I’ve found. I sing to you, ye dead above the ground. Brother of mine, What of the lightning that governed you? What scattered the clouds, O great thunderhead? When Man is at peace, he is dead. Sister, once fire-veined, What quenched your heart, simmered the blood? O former champion of the road unled, Why do you rest like the dead? Brother, have you tasted the feast to defeat starvation? Sister, have you drawn The sweet breaths of flame that follow the hunt? To live is not to exist. To exist is not to live. Brother, have you smelled The distant smoke on the horizon? Sister, have you shot out After it with lungs of flame? To live is not to exist. To exist is not to live. The flesh to defeat starvation. The breaths of fire that follow the hunt. To live is to smell the smoke in the distance And sprint for it with fucking lungs of flame. And so on and on, You lay awake, and waste away. And so on and on, It pains me to the earth. Brother, how shall I sing your song at the end? Shall I sing that you were content to smoulder, but never to blaze? Sister, how shall I sing your song at the end? Shall I sing that you were content Not to burn, but to fade in the haze? |
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3. | We, the Torchbearers | 05:20 | Show lyrics |
The great torch falls to the soil There it flickers and roils Our sorrow won’t fuel it forever. We all must carry the torch We all must carry the memory Death! Takes your fire! Takes your innocence! When you bury a brother. Death! Takes your fire! Takes your innocence! When you bury a sister. You have to accept there is nothing to be done. You have to accept that this has happened. You have to accept this begins a new chapter. You have to accept you can never go back. Who you were is now dead. Heave the torch! Carry the torch! We all must carry the torch! We all must carry the memory. Hold fast! To the Earth! For rebirth! Thou modern Baldr. Hold fast! To the Earth! For rebirth! Thou modern Persephone! You are at a new beginning You are lost without bearings A sailor without the stars A chapter without yet words You shall find navigation. You shall find your story. |
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4. | Goose River (Mourners’ March) | 03:33 | Show lyrics |
We’ll walk through the day, on down to the bay We’ll claim old Goose River Point So haul on your mugs and growler jugs it’s a long road, but not as long as a dry road We’ll drink the ale and spin many a tale of our comrade’s final days. We’ll pour out the beer for the one not here Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers once more, me b’y. It’s a long road and a sorrowed load. It’s a long road and a sorrowed load, Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers, once more, to ya, Sloan. Where could we throw the ash, but the end of the path at the swirling Goose River Point? He’ll stand with the trees, and run with the streams where he once roamed, and now can ever again roam. And again next year we’ll feast out here an annual march to the sea. We’ll raise up a toast on the rocky coast: Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers, once more, to ya, Sloan. |
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5. | Bones in the Undertow | 05:14 | Show lyrics |
When she hardened with the cold we would cross her and marvel in her winter-white beauty. Until she awoke and claimed her first lives, in the spring. And as they roll on the riverbed below, Sustenance reclaimed by the neverending flow. Now she’s stolen another soul, Another captive within her ever Autumn-black beauty. And as they roll on the riverbed below, Sustenance reclaimed by the neverending flow. And as they dance on the riverbed below. Nothing but bones in the undertow. As she creates, so she destroys Livers of life must always repay. As she creates, so she regains. All whom she feeds she must one day reclaim. Go, Wanderer! Cross this black stream. Can you smell the distant fires on the horizon? Can you feel the pull of the unknown mists? Of the unknown forests stretching into the skyline? And on this dark day as I cross This New World Rhine with her own rings of gold. She will whip me and bewail me with the wind, To rip me into her depths, and claim me for herself As the trees on the shore stand silently and watch. As I stand out upon the shore, And cry out to the breathing current, Each and every one ‘neath this Maritime sun Grieves my brother; I must reclaim him. And so I throw myself to the riverbed below. Resurrection sought in the life-bearing flow. But as I roam on the riverbed below, I see nothing but bones in the undertow. As she creates, so she destroys. Livers of life must always repay. As she creates, so she destroys. All whom she feeds, she must one day reclaim. |
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6. | Wanderer on the Continent of Saplings | 05:19 | Show lyrics |
O Wanderer, on the continent of saplings, Tell me thy true name! Not the heritage you don. Nor the bloodline that you claim. Tell me not the clan to which you wish to cling. But what thou truly art, if thou even knowest it. Tell me what copse of saplings hath thee truly sprung? Whence art thou truly come? If thou even knowest it. Wanderer! Have you seen the mother forests, Across the raging seas? Wanderer! Have you seen the darkened landscape, Whence the elders cast their seeds? This! Is the Continent of Saplings. A monument of trees. This! Is the Continent of Saplings. From sea to shining sea. We, here, on the Continent of Saplings, Are seeds of distant lands. But we, on the Continent of Saplings, Take root in the same ground. We, here, on the Continent of Saplings Bear a thousand different forms. But we, on the Continent of Saplings Are of one kind. I have long roamed this continent, under the plague of the Nihilist. Before, it was not this way. Now all is death and decay. “Wherever he sets his hand there is a cry for the redeeming hero. The carrier of the shining blade, Whose blow, whose touch, whose existence, will liberate the land.” -Joseph Campbell Wanderer from the East! Lost on the trail. You cannot see, yourself, what you’re worth. I behold you, emerald veiled in shale. You must learn your worth, for the earth. The thousand trials will strip you bare to the hardened emerald soul. Only then can you carry the shining brand And smite the Nihilist from the land. A thousand tribes, of a thousand names. We are one kind; we are the same. A thousand tribes, of a thousand names. We’re in need of liberation. We are in need of a champion. “Dethrone the great Nihilist! Dethrone the great Nihilist!” |
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7. | Maritime Shores | 03:32 | Show lyrics |
I’ve seen this continent’s oceans, And all its creatures in motion. But above it all for splendour stands the briny Maritimes. Where the mist and the rain Blast life into me, And the old white pines Stand guard over the sea. Though I have left her as ofttime before Oh how I long for her Maritime shores I am but one of a thousand of lore Oh how I long for her Maritime shores Though I’ve lost myself in the greenery, And all other distant scenery, None match the climes Of the misty Maritimes. Elsewhere pipes are singing, And strings and drums are ringing. But none with the life of the briny Maritimes. |
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8. | View of a Million Trees | 07:22 | Show lyrics |
As I climb mount Parafac With the weight of the urns on my back I grieve you. I grieve the four of you. As I reach the snowbound rock With the weight of the earth on my back I must leave you. I must heave you to the winds. View of a million trees Brings this sorrowed king to his knees View of a million trees I am not what I once was Before these four deaths because Each tore out and gored my battered heart. A man awake but with no breath Part of me torn out with each death Alive, yet dying for rebirth. View of a million trees And a sky burial for thee Too much death around me To ever be reborn. Too much death around me. I must put these ghosts to rest. A thousand lakes crowned in pine Gleam beneath this mountain spine Relieve you Receive you in their midst. Would that you could see this aerial Altar at your skyward burial. Fly, fly on the four winds! View of a million trees. I feel the death release me. My spirit becoming clean. I feel the death release me. I lay what I was to rest. I can feel the silence, All across the land, Bearing peace and solace To this sorrowed man. I can feel the silence, Misting whisper song, Lifting off the burden I’ve worn for so long. |
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9. | Borea (Pyre of a Thousand Pine) | 05:22 | Show lyrics |
Would that the mists envelop me, Tendrils writhing upon my skin. And raise me, on this sombre night, This sombre night of october decline. Would that the mists envelop me, Tendrils writhing upon my skin. And raise me, on this sombre night, This sombre night of november renewal Raise me atop the pyre. The pyre of a thousand pine, Rising against the nightscape. A mountain, a bulwark, a fortress. The pyre of a thousand pine that, Hopeless against what was to come, And too noble to be felled by cruel hand, Laid themselves down. The mist seeped down from the hills, And took them in her tendrils. She piled them high, As a mountain against the nightscape. Set me atop. set the Wandering king ablaze. Burn this innocent flesh from my bones. O Borea, breathe life into me. Slake my dust bones, my ash skin. Draw the life of this fire so high. Draw it into me. That I might take the height of the white pine, That I might take the strength of the ironwood That I might take the wisdom of the oak That I might rise again. Rise, Wanderer. |
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10. | Elegy Across the Silence | 02:57 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
11. | Song of the Nihilist | 05:58 | Show lyrics |
The Nihilist followed me along my path. The Nihilist spoke to me. “You’ve come so far, O Wanderer Only to fall to me. “I am the Nihilist. And I will tell you of this world. I am the Nihilist. And I will shatter your world. “Nothing lasts forever but the hope that it would. Nothing you endeavour ever shines like it should. Look into the mirror, look to the dawn. All that you see will one day be gone. “You’ve come so far, Wanderer. With such a burden in tow. It all will end in madness. This you must surely know? “Is every step not a mountain? Does the wind not cut to the soul? It will all end in sadness. Why endeavour at all?” I felt the death in his voice. I felt the decay in his words. But it slid off like mountain snow; I’d been here before. Before I’d taken up the urns. Before I’d taken up the cause. When I myself had burned down To smouldering ash. From the white-hot coals At the base of my soul, I thank the celestia. For those refusing to tire Heaving bellows of the fire, Who stoked my dying heart. “Listen to me, O Nihilist. I will tell you what I have seen of this Earth. When I’ve had so much death in my time, What can one do but celebrate What little time there is to exist, What vibrant life burns in those around us. ‘Nothing lasts forever,’ Said the black hole to the star. Look into the mirror, See the black hole that you are. If every step is a mountain, enjoy the fucking view. And see the miles you’ve traveled stretching out below you. If nothing is forever, We are roaring stars. All that we endeavour Is all of who we are. Life is churning chaos Life is roaring fire All that we endeavour Is all of who we are. |
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12. | I Am the Viator | 05:06 | Show lyrics |
Stranded here on this wretched pier, The Nihilist dead in the earth. The four urns I bore, and the sorrow I wore Their ash and my grief spread o’er the earth. These burdens done, and these labours won, I can return to my home. These journeys done, and into mythos spun, I now return to my home. But it was a storm. A storm to kill. I was driven to these shores. It was a storm. A storm that killed. Oh how it took from me. Yet I remain. It’s high time for high tide On this bay of immeasurable loss. A rising tide will raise all ships, But mine is long since a sunken wreck. So I took an axe along the woods of my idols. I tapped the trunks to see which were hollow. Now I sail on this ship I’ve nailed together from the trees of felled idols. This past twelvemonth was a roiling storm; It killed, it stole, it blazed, it cracked. I howled, I fought, I wailed, I mourned; I was nought but a sunken wreck. But now I know what it is to throw Off a burden the weight of the earth. Now I burn with the strength I’ve earned And shift my gaze to the black clouds. Now I am the storm. A storm to kill. I shall decimate these shores. A cyclone at the end of a cycle. Above the world, my life stretching out to the end of the earth. The Wanderer is dead; I see it all. The Child (sees the Viator wending his way) Becomes the Wanderer on the Earth The Wanderer (led by the Mentor grey) Becomes the Viator on his path The Viator (seeing the Questioning Child) Becomes himself the Mentor wise. The Mentor (instructing The Wanderer wild) Becomes himself once more the Questioning Child The storm has gone, and the Wanderer is dead I am become more… I am the Viator Master of paths, singer of wars I am the Viator I return to the Maritimes I shall release it from death and decay I return to her misted climes I shall devour her death and decay I am the Viator I am the path, the journey, the war I am the Viator I return to the Maritimes I shall sing the songs I’ve earned. I return to her misted climes I shall teach the fires I’ve learned. I am the Viator. I am the path, the journey, the war. I am the Viator, Master of paths, singer of wars. |
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59:36 |
Wanderer on the Continent of Saplings
Members | |
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Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Brendan Hayter | Bass |
Rae Amitay | Drums, Vocals (backing) (tracks 2, 9) |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Keyboards, Tin whistle |
Guest/Session | |
Jeff Mott | Fiddle |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Diane Cole | Photography (additional) |
Dan Gonzalez | Engineering |
Siegfried Meier | Producer, Engineering, Mixing, Mastering |
Blake Menzies | Photography (cover) |
Brett Goodchild | Artwork, Layout |
Joel Violette | Producer, Engineering |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Lifelore Revelation | 04:12 | Show lyrics |
Digital contemplation Defames natural adoration, Denies mythical admiration. This is the song of our time. Analytical observation Defames mythical incarnation, Denies mytho-human integration. This is the song of our time. But we have seen the earth figure. In the shapes of our very thoughts. Searing proof— the analytic has its bounds. Lifelore revelation: Myth is the song of the Earth! Earthwide exultation: Death is the song of rebirth! Lifelong wheels of death and rebirth. So many times shall I die on this earth! Existential elevation Is as a cyclical renovation. Life’s a series of ritual deaths. Life’s a series of ritual rebirths. Cycles cascading cycles Cascading lives Cascading back, To time unknown. So we know. We wear the masks Worn a thousand times before We are the myths Born a thousand times of lore. Birth initiation. Earthlore captivation. Archetype manifestation. Another lifewheel rotation. To live, first you must die. To die, first you must wander. Wander the road of a thousand trials. Destroy the self; rebuilt it anew. |
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2. | Once Fireveined | 05:43 | Show lyrics |
Brother of mine, How could you thrive in constant peace? Thrive without the struggle for always more? One only lives when at war. Sister, what tidings shall you bring? What spoils and vict’ries shall you ever sing? For what do you stand in your idleness? From what great journey do you rest? The peace for which you long is but rest for the road ahead. If you’ve yet to wander, why do you rest like the dead? The peace for which you long Is but rest for the road ahead. Fire I’ve lost, and fire I’ve found. I sing to you, ye dead above the ground. Brother of mine, What of the lightning that governed you? What scattered the clouds, O great thunderhead? When Man is at peace, he is dead. Sister, once fire-veined, What quenched your heart, simmered the blood? O former champion of the road unled, Why do you rest like the dead? Brother, have you tasted the feast to defeat starvation? Sister, have you drawn The sweet breaths of flame that follow the hunt? To live is not to exist. To exist is not to live. Brother, have you smelled The distant smoke on the horizon? Sister, have you shot out After it with lungs of flame? To live is not to exist. To exist is not to live. The flesh to defeat starvation. The breaths of fire that follow the hunt. To live is to smell the smoke in the distance And sprint for it with fucking lungs of flame. And so on and on, You lay awake, and waste away. And so on and on, It pains me to the earth. Brother, how shall I sing your song at the end? Shall I sing that you were content to smoulder, but never to blaze? Sister, how shall I sing your song at the end? Shall I sing that you were content Not to burn, but to fade in the haze? |
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3. | We, the Torchbearers | 05:21 | Show lyrics |
The great torch falls to the soil There it flickers and roils Our sorrow won’t fuel it forever. We all must carry the torch We all must carry the memory Death! Takes your fire! Takes your innocence! When you bury a brother. Death! Takes your fire! Takes your innocence! When you bury a sister. You have to accept there is nothing to be done. You have to accept that this has happened. You have to accept this begins a new chapter. You have to accept you can never go back. Who you were is now dead. Heave the torch! Carry the torch! We all must carry the torch! We all must carry the memory. Hold fast! To the Earth! For rebirth! Thou modern Baldr. Hold fast! To the Earth! For rebirth! Thou modern Persephone! You are at a new beginning You are lost without bearings A sailor without the stars A chapter without yet words You shall find navigation. You shall find your story. |
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4. | Goose River (Mourners’ March) | 03:34 | Show lyrics |
We’ll walk through the day, on down to the bay We’ll claim old Goose River Point So haul on your mugs and growler jugs it’s a long road, but not as long as a dry road We’ll drink the ale and spin many a tale of our comrade’s final days. We’ll pour out the beer for the one not here Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers once more, me b’y. It’s a long road and a sorrowed load. It’s a long road and a sorrowed load, Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers, once more, to ya, Sloan. Where could we throw the ash, but the end of the path at the swirling Goose River Point? He’ll stand with the trees, and run with the streams where he once roamed, and now can ever again roam. And again next year we’ll feast out here an annual march to the sea. We’ll raise up a toast on the rocky coast: Cheers, me b’y, once more. Cheers, once more, to ya, Sloan. |
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5. | Bones in the Undertow | 05:14 | Show lyrics |
When she hardened with the cold we would cross her and marvel in her winter-white beauty. Until she awoke and claimed her first lives, in the spring. And as they roll on the riverbed below, Sustenance reclaimed by the neverending flow. Now she’s stolen another soul, Another captive within her ever Autumn-black beauty. And as they roll on the riverbed below, Sustenance reclaimed by the neverending flow. And as they dance on the riverbed below. Nothing but bones in the undertow. As she creates, so she destroys Livers of life must always repay. As she creates, so she regains. All whom she feeds she must one day reclaim. Go, Wanderer! Cross this black stream. Can you smell the distant fires on the horizon? Can you feel the pull of the unknown mists? Of the unknown forests stretching into the skyline? And on this dark day as I cross This New World Rhine with her own rings of gold. She will whip me and bewail me with the wind, To rip me into her depths, and claim me for herself As the trees on the shore stand silently and watch. As I stand out upon the shore, And cry out to the breathing current, Each and every one ‘neath this Maritime sun Grieves my brother; I must reclaim him. And so I throw myself to the riverbed below. Resurrection sought in the life-bearing flow. But as I roam on the riverbed below, I see nothing but bones in the undertow. As she creates, so she destroys. Livers of life must always repay. As she creates, so she destroys. All whom she feeds, she must one day reclaim. |
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6. | Wanderer on the Continent of Saplings | 05:20 | Show lyrics |
O Wanderer, on the continent of saplings, Tell me thy true name! Not the heritage you don. Nor the bloodline that you claim. Tell me not the clan to which you wish to cling. But what thou truly art, if thou even knowest it. Tell me what copse of saplings hath thee truly sprung? Whence art thou truly come? If thou even knowest it. Wanderer! Have you seen the mother forests, Across the raging seas? Wanderer! Have you seen the darkened landscape, Whence the elders cast their seeds? This! Is the Continent of Saplings. A monument of trees. This! Is the Continent of Saplings. From sea to shining sea. We, here, on the Continent of Saplings, Are seeds of distant lands. But we, on the Continent of Saplings, Take root in the same ground. We, here, on the Continent of Saplings Bear a thousand different forms. But we, on the Continent of Saplings Are of one kind. I have long roamed this continent, under the plague of the Nihilist. Before, it was not this way. Now all is death and decay. “Wherever he sets his hand there is a cry for the redeeming hero. The carrier of the shining blade, Whose blow, whose touch, whose existence, will liberate the land.” -Joseph Campbell Wanderer from the East! Lost on the trail. You cannot see, yourself, what you’re worth. I behold you, emerald veiled in shale. You must learn your worth, for the earth. The thousand trials will strip you bare to the hardened emerald soul. Only then can you carry the shining brand And smite the Nihilist from the land. A thousand tribes, of a thousand names. We are one kind; we are the same. A thousand tribes, of a thousand names. We’re in need of liberation. We are in need of a champion. “Dethrone the great Nihilist! Dethrone the great Nihilist!” |
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7. | Maritime Shores | 03:32 | Show lyrics |
I’ve seen this continent’s oceans, And all its creatures in motion. But above it all for splendour stands the briny Maritimes. Where the mist and the rain Blast life into me, And the old white pines Stand guard over the sea. Though I have left her as ofttime before Oh how I long for her Maritime shores I am but one of a thousand of lore Oh how I long for her Maritime shores Though I’ve lost myself in the greenery, And all other distant scenery, None match the climes Of the misty Maritimes. Elsewhere pipes are singing, And strings and drums are ringing. But none with the life of the briny Maritimes. |
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8. | View of a Million Trees | 07:22 | Show lyrics |
As I climb mount Parafac With the weight of the urns on my back I grieve you. I grieve the four of you. As I reach the snowbound rock With the weight of the earth on my back I must leave you. I must heave you to the winds. View of a million trees Brings this sorrowed king to his knees View of a million trees I am not what I once was Before these four deaths because Each tore out and gored my battered heart. A man awake but with no breath Part of me torn out with each death Alive, yet dying for rebirth. View of a million trees And a sky burial for thee Too much death around me To ever be reborn. Too much death around me. I must put these ghosts to rest. A thousand lakes crowned in pine Gleam beneath this mountain spine Relieve you Receive you in their midst. Would that you could see this aerial Altar at your skyward burial. Fly, fly on the four winds! View of a million trees. I feel the death release me. My spirit becoming clean. I feel the death release me. I lay what I was to rest. I can feel the silence, All across the land, Bearing peace and solace To this sorrowed man. I can feel the silence, Misting whisper song, Lifting off the burden I’ve worn for so long. |
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9. | Borea (Pyre of a Thousand Pine) | 05:22 | Show lyrics |
Would that the mists envelop me, Tendrils writhing upon my skin. And raise me, on this sombre night, This sombre night of october decline. Would that the mists envelop me, Tendrils writhing upon my skin. And raise me, on this sombre night, This sombre night of november renewal Raise me atop the pyre. The pyre of a thousand pine, Rising against the nightscape. A mountain, a bulwark, a fortress. The pyre of a thousand pine that, Hopeless against what was to come, And too noble to be felled by cruel hand, Laid themselves down. The mist seeped down from the hills, And took them in her tendrils. She piled them high, As a mountain against the nightscape. Set me atop. set the Wandering king ablaze. Burn this innocent flesh from my bones. O Borea, breathe life into me. Slake my dust bones, my ash skin. Draw the life of this fire so high. Draw it into me. That I might take the height of the white pine, That I might take the strength of the ironwood That I might take the wisdom of the oak That I might rise again. Rise, Wanderer. |
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10. | Elegy Across the Silence | 02:58 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
11. | Song of the Nihilist | 05:58 | Show lyrics |
The Nihilist followed me along my path. The Nihilist spoke to me. “You’ve come so far, O Wanderer Only to fall to me. “I am the Nihilist. And I will tell you of this world. I am the Nihilist. And I will shatter your world. “Nothing lasts forever but the hope that it would. Nothing you endeavour ever shines like it should. Look into the mirror, look to the dawn. All that you see will one day be gone. “You’ve come so far, Wanderer. With such a burden in tow. It all will end in madness. This you must surely know? “Is every step not a mountain? Does the wind not cut to the soul? It will all end in sadness. Why endeavour at all?” I felt the death in his voice. I felt the decay in his words. But it slid off like mountain snow; I’d been here before. Before I’d taken up the urns. Before I’d taken up the cause. When I myself had burned down To smouldering ash. From the white-hot coals At the base of my soul, I thank the celestia. For those refusing to tire Heaving bellows of the fire, Who stoked my dying heart. “Listen to me, O Nihilist. I will tell you what I have seen of this Earth. When I’ve had so much death in my time, What can one do but celebrate What little time there is to exist, What vibrant life burns in those around us. ‘Nothing lasts forever,’ Said the black hole to the star. Look into the mirror, See the black hole that you are. If every step is a mountain, enjoy the fucking view. And see the miles you’ve traveled stretching out below you. If nothing is forever, We are roaring stars. All that we endeavour Is all of who we are. Life is churning chaos Life is roaring fire All that we endeavour Is all of who we are. |
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12. | I Am the Viator | 05:07 | Show lyrics |
Stranded here on this wretched pier, The Nihilist dead in the earth. The four urns I bore, and the sorrow I wore Their ash and my grief spread o’er the earth. These burdens done, and these labours won, I can return to my home. These journeys done, and into mythos spun, I now return to my home. But it was a storm. A storm to kill. I was driven to these shores. It was a storm. A storm that killed. Oh how it took from me. Yet I remain. It’s high time for high tide On this bay of immeasurable loss. A rising tide will raise all ships, But mine is long since a sunken wreck. So I took an axe along the woods of my idols. I tapped the trunks to see which were hollow. Now I sail on this ship I’ve nailed together from the trees of felled idols. This past twelvemonth was a roiling storm; It killed, it stole, it blazed, it cracked. I howled, I fought, I wailed, I mourned; I was nought but a sunken wreck. But now I know what it is to throw Off a burden the weight of the earth. Now I burn with the strength I’ve earned And shift my gaze to the black clouds. Now I am the storm. A storm to kill. I shall decimate these shores. A cyclone at the end of a cycle. Above the world, my life stretching out to the end of the earth. The Wanderer is dead; I see it all. The Child (sees the Viator wending his way) Becomes the Wanderer on the Earth The Wanderer (led by the Mentor grey) Becomes the Viator on his path The Viator (seeing the Questioning Child) Becomes himself the Mentor wise. The Mentor (instructing The Wanderer wild) Becomes himself once more the Questioning Child The storm has gone, and the Wanderer is dead I am become more… I am the Viator Master of paths, singer of wars I am the Viator I return to the Maritimes I shall release it from death and decay I return to her misted climes I shall devour her death and decay I am the Viator I am the path, the journey, the war I am the Viator I return to the Maritimes I shall sing the songs I’ve earned. I return to her misted climes I shall teach the fires I’ve learned. I am the Viator. I am the path, the journey, the war. I am the Viator, Master of paths, singer of wars. |
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59:43 |
Metachthonia
Members | |
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Band members | |
Brendan Hayter | Bass, Songwriting (track 5) |
Rae Amitay | Drums, Vocals (additional) (track 3) |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Songwriting, Lyrics |
Guest/Session | |
John Duke | Guitars (lead) (track 5) |
Raphael Weinroth-Browne | Cello |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Knate Myers | Photography (cover) |
Adam Gillis | Logo |
Brett Goodchild | Layout |
Siegfried Meier | Mixing, Mastering, Producer |
Pete Grossman | Recording (drums, Rae’s vocals) |
Leon Taheny | Recording (cellos) |
Joel Violette | Producer |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Fires That Light the Earth | 10:40 | Show lyrics |
I: Of Consuming Flame There must be more, much more, to life than this electric, egocentric, current circumstance. On this Earth, there must be more than this for Homo sapiens. Homo spirans, Homo amans, Roamer of the Earth for aeons. Thriver through ages of ice. Homo pugnans, homo narrans*, Hauler Down of Bear and Mammoth. We are they—the same line. Give me sun and give me song, and I will charge our blood with ancient life. Give me sun and give me song—and the years I’ll sing us back to ice. This chthonic howl echoes across Metachthonia. Somewhere in the distance it is answered. Look to the sky, look to the hills, to ground you in this electric age. Look to the folk and the past they fill to ground you in this electric age. I find myself a being of consuming flame and seeing that the senses are deceived and isolated by machines. I find myself a being of consuming flame and seeing that the passions are deceived and maneuvered by machines. As you journey on through these modern times, walk light through the traps of the age. As you journey on through these modern times, walk heavy through the barriers made. Metachthonia! Metachthonia! Chthonic times are gone. Metachthonia! Metachthonia! Metachthonic times live on. Look not to these modern times—where diodes shine over the sun—to solve questions older than life, for the times only concern with themselves. II: The Chthonic Call Lost in urban sprawl. Spiritual withdrawal. Lights and screens decide all dreams. The distant landscape breathed and I heard the sky above—it groaned clouded words. Followed the chthonic call; journey to the coastal wall, where great trees stand across wide whispering land. The sound of waves striking cliffs was speech, conversation. Eternal tones, in the marrow of my bones: “And the fires burn bright. And they burn in number. Oh how they burn all across the Earth. And the fires burn all across the glowing Earth. And the fires burn for any who wish to find them. Any who wish to find them.” III: In Mist and Spray I plant my feet upon the cliff and breathe the spray of the sea. Arms wider than the thundering sky. I roared out to all I could see and stretched flame into the sky, though immersed in mist and spray. The fire that surged from heart to fist was ready to consume me. I saw the threads appear in the air: not quite cloud, not quite vine, glowing with each pulse, reaching high from my chest to the clouds. And the sky broke with crashing light and sound to deafen Thor himself. Lightning lit the ethereal braid. All went black. When the storm cleared I sprawled on the green. And the landscape breathed. The stars became life in the sky. When I felt the blood pulse in time with the Earth, I’d found my answer. *spirans: who hopes, aspires; amans - who loves, has passion; pugnans - who fights, battles; narrans - who tells stories, relays experiences. |
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2. | She Who Names the Stars | 09:20 | Show lyrics |
I: Still Life I walk the banks of the stream of electric thought for a ford back across. For here I am scattered, thoughts asunder, in tatters. No recollection of having crossed. The stream will always be found among the industrial sound. This is life in Metachthonia. But green can always be found among the industrial sound. There is still life in Metachthonia. The water runs so deep. I’ve seen so many taken by the will of the stream. But I must cross to the warmth of And the green of where I once was. The peace of life lived at my own will. The stream will always be found among the industrial sound. This is life in Metachthonia. But green can always be found among the industrial sound. There is still life in Metachthonia. All you, welcome to Metachthonia. It’s like the rustle of leaf to ground against the industrial sound. All you, welcome to Metachthonia. It’s like the sun on your skin while the diodes draw you in. It was verdant and the arching oaks swayed in a whispering wind. All quiet were the thorning groves, and shining lakes did brim. Then ’lecric industry arrived, emitting its cold and lifeless light. Dendritic verdure did subside to oil and fumes and torbanite. It left and with it nature’s realm and air with cedar scent and overhanging streets of elm with flowing branches bent. Although we see the trees around in this electric age, yet nothing of old nature’s old ways does seep into our veins. II: Asteric Understanding And on her arm was flame alive. In ink it lashed the wind, a binding to primordial times when flame was close as kin. A binding to time when survival hung on reading stars on luminous galactic ceiling. Even before the scientific, even before—in life—we could reach the stars, we knew the stars. Known in analogue, but known well. Mapped, we knew them as hag, hunter, stag, and thunder. A binding to time when survival hung on reading stars on luminous galactic ceiling—when to reap the bearded grain, when to hunt the running game, if the sun should wake again from winter’s slumbered plane. “Do you not take comfort in seeing the same stars as your ancestors? “If we must take strength from something greater than ourselves—for all that you hope and all that you are—why not revere the sun and stars? Our forebears worshiped the sun. Our forebears worshiped the stars. Asteric under-standing and far from without life immense in passion and pulse.” III: Seven Winters Look at seven winters past—the changes to the world. What, in seven winters more, could dare to be revealed? So now is pattern visible, and conversation opened, for us, the treaders on the cusp of now and coming moment. For in this age the choice is ours when to connect or flee. But soon’s the time when we will learn the meaning of ubiquity. Look at seven winters past—the changes to the world. What, in seven winters more, could dare to be unfurled? Think, Metachthonic, where does it end, the reach of ’lecric nets? Look at present, past, and future trend, and what they may beget.” Having spoke, she looked to the shimmering sky. She saw our past, present, future, and so did I. In the shower of ageless light, I understood. “Astronomer,” I began. But when my eyes fell from the sky, she was gone. |
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3. | Dead of Winter | 09:36 | Show lyrics |
I: Spoke The Huntress “Hail, Metachthonic! You there! Chthonic human in this post-natural world. You stand in isolation from the verdant Gaian nation. All you! Welcome to Metachthonia! Thoughtbuilt walls hold you all. You’ve risen from the Earth long after it birthed the age where cold light Shines above sun-warmth. You stand in isolation from the verdant Gaian nation. Though stalwart, cold logic is not enough for the pyric human to thrive and burn. If in the valley of the spirit ice lies across the river, it’s never in breaking through the ice. It’s in the burning of the brand —in the warming of the land—that ice will lift. All you! Welcome to Metachthonia! Those without fire have kept you from burning brighter. II: The Bone Hand At the black edge of defeat, shatter the bones of your adversary. And howl out to the glowing night; drink deep its immortality. Before we go into the ground—before the bone hand drags us in —seek the moments of euphoria, the fires that light the great hall of a life. Relentless pursuer of enigma, incessant as the snow that falls, stand, lungs aflame, over your prey. Drink deep of burning clarity. III: Topos, Mythos, Anthropos “Huntress! I feel so cold, so tired. I’ve always charged, I’ve never baulked. But now the summit seems so far. Huntress! Have you ever been, so cold and tired, like the dead of winter?” “Metachthonic, you are weathered, not broken. Be-cause it is dark will there never be light? Because it is cold will there never be warmth? It is not the dead of winter. It is the heart of winter. Know you not the land on which you tread? For, under the snow, a heart beats hard. Can you not see its image in the self? Run with me. We will hunt the spirit of the land. In the solar glow, we will hunt. Hunt with me where topos, mythos, anthropos* collide. Woven to our souls we take our prize. Hear its beating heart; see the ice lift off the river. Weave this tapestry to adorn the great hall of life. *topos - place, location (cf. toponym); mythos - story, myth, legend; anthropos - human being |
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4. | Hypochthonic Remnants | 08:20 | Show lyrics |
I: Subterranean Glastonbury shapings; Carnac arrangings. Hypochthonic remnants summon Metachthonic tenants*. Songs of ages past lived and died still neolithic. Lore of ages past has waited for years to come to you. Raknehaugen, Anundshög, draw you through temporal murk. Sub-terranean remnants summon post-terranean tenants. We souls of ages past, we’ll tear up the earth to get to you. Buried neath the megalithic, spirits of ages past: the slumbering to rise again. Post-terranean vastlands, the self in terms electrical. All voiceless aspirants who hope in hexadecimals. We are the hypochthonic; we will give you voice. To you, the innate electronic, to rise above the noise. II: Song of Chthonia “We are the air that wakes with the dawn. We are the fire that burns with the midday sun. We are the water that cools with the dusk. We are the earth that restores with the midnight calm.” The times change like the river flows by: swift and raging. Never aware where its hurried course lies, yet ever racing. To take the times wholesale is to be taken by the times; to take the past wholesale is to be left behind. To weigh the finest of past and present is to navigate the times. In any year, culture, clime; to navigate is to thrive. Sing, sing to the sky the dark song of Chthonia. Sing loud, sing to the times, a call through Metachthonia. I am the air; far I shall roam Under the sky in all of its shades. I am fire; long I shall burn To renew the self and temper the blade. I am water; clear I shall flow To cleanse the self of what sullies the times. I am the earth; firm I shall stand. Hold fast to what shines through from the past. III: At Odell’s Heart When you stand among the pine, You stand in a far-stretching line Of all who’ve stood in rapture here And all who shall in coming year. For in the wood you are the same As those to come and those who came To root themselves in rapture here And those who shall in coming year. To sit at Odell’s heart and contemplate the times among the fallen hemlock that rampart on all sides. To sit at Odell’s heart and contemplate what’s mine; what’s mine to give, receive, provide; what’s owed me by the times; what the times should give, provide, for all beneath them to thrive—so we know, like each fleck of snow in the storm, none is alone in this plight. It’s a grounding, among these electric times to reflect what the times have become. To shrug off the wires and, in cool cedar air, think with forgotten clarity. A grounding, among these electric times. Your feet to the earth and your mind to its calm. Your soul to all who have stood where you are—to feel in their bones how timelessness flows now in the air around you. *hypochthonic: subterranean |
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5. | Rivers of Underthought | 08:43 | Show lyrics |
I: River With the fresh, fragrant air does the river course by, yet unaware where its hurried course lies. Driven by current, all- encompassing tow, life on the surface moved by what roils below. So as we wend through speech and encounter, the rivers of underthought carry us forward. Awareness can grasp the path left in its wake, but never the course that the current shall take. Brother of mine, when we meet, the gestures and tones rivers of underthought let fly from your bones. Sister of mine, when we hear the songwords and tones, rivers of underthought seep into our bones. II: Stream And so they connect us, what truly bind us all to one another. Streams unseen, under all thought, join like the reservoirs and tributaries — as seen from miles above the Earth, stretching into its curvature. Join like the great interconnection of all water, of all life. As the rivers of underthought flow to the sea, through deltas to oceans, lakes, and estuaries. From any of their seven billion sources. The latticework of human experience. III: Deluge How the torrents sometimes rage; how they sometimes wane to rivulet; how they sometimes freeze with the cold; how they sometimes build so strong, so relentless, so boundless as to swell and swell and burst the dam. As the white water roars into the valley below, this is how we change, how the valley of the spirit reshapes its face — renews, restores, returns us again to balance. So crash together, run together, rivers of underthought. Oh the deluge when we gathe |
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6. | In Mist We Walk | 11:40 | Show lyrics |
I: The Hammering The mountain looms in the clouds above. Although of the earth, it stands with the gods. It was so easy to stare at screen while all outside was in vibrant green. So I fed the mind while body withered away. Now I put one foot before the other and a journey begins. The hammering of my heart, the great flesh anvil. The same redfire heart with which this life is forged thunders with the thrill of the unknown path—Thor’s hammer pounding against my chest. The terror that succeeds the shapes/Surrounding in the forest mist./The air that fills with mythic taste/Which binds to me from heart to fist. And when I re-emerge and leave the fog with the trees the thoughts I’ve won are seared to me forevermore. The hammering of my heart, the great flesh anvil. The same redfire heart on which all myth is born flares at the distant scent of laurel wreaths, heaves at the sight of a newfound path—Lugh’s fire roaring within my chest. II: Vernal Rains Here sits our hundred ‘lectric years in the shadow of chthonic millennia. Is this progress? As we sit our waking hours in worship at diode altars. Diodes only displace darkness; they never illuminate. You! who would choose the dark so the sun might burn even brighter as it soars. You! who would lose the brightness of the diode to regain the night and its lore. Your season is nigh. I can feel it on the wind. I can smell the chthonic climes as the vernal rains begin. You! who would spend waking hours with life immense in passion, pulse, and power. You! who would walk through hexadecimal thunder with the will of the advancing hunter. Your season is nigh. I can feel it on the wind. I can smell the chthonic climes as the vernal rains begin. “Every age has them. Every age has those who learn to thrive like sovereigns. Who walk each step with the fire of life, aware some days burn brighter than others. Who learn the landscape of the time. Its hills, its valleys. Who learn to navigate it with precision. With passion. With pulse. With immensity of spirit.” III: Another Journey Begins I walk the banks of the stream of electric thought. I cross to the warmth of where I once was. I look down to see a sixfold flame in hand. Sing me the dark songs of Chthonia. Sing life immense in passion and pulse. I am the snow that falls: incessant, relentless, boundless. I am the rain that whips: raging, cleansing, cool. I am the sun that burns: awakened and scatt’ring the clouds. I am the heart that heaves: renewed, thundering. Sing me the dark songs of Chthonia. Sing me the song of Metachthonia. Sing me life immense in passion and pulse. I am the river that swells: incessant, relentless, boundless. I am the dam that bursts: raging, cleansing, cool. I am the stride ahead. I am the journey that begins. You! spiritwalker, igniter of the sixfold flame—you! who breathe the essence of fire and exhale the chant of life. You! Who rend the earth and snow beneath your feet as you hurl yourself through endless miles of trails—to the summit of your pursuits. In mist we walk through the lands of Metachthonia. From mist we emerge and build the fires of old Chthonia. And the fires burn bright, All across the earth, For any who wish to find them. For any who wish to find them. For the fires burn bright, All across the earth. One foot before the other, And another journey begins. In mist we walk, we sovereigns of old Chthonia. From mist we emerge, crowned sovereigns of Metachthonia. Rule on into the dusk. |
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58:19 |
Metachthonia
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Brendan Hayter | Bass, Songwriting (track 5) |
Rae Amitay | Drums, Vocals (additional) (track 3) |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Songwriting, Lyrics |
Guest/Session | |
John Duke | Guitars (lead) (track 5) |
Raphael Weinroth-Browne | Cello |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Pete Grossman | Recording (drums, Rae’s vocals) |
Leon Taheny | Recording (cellos) |
Joel Violette | Producer |
Knate Myers | Photography (cover) |
Adam Gillis | Logo |
Brett Goodchild | Layout |
Siegfried Meier | Mixing, Mastering, Producer |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Fires That Light the Earth | 10:45 | Show lyrics |
I: Of Consuming Flame There must be more, much more, to life than this electric, egocentric, current circumstance. On this Earth, there must be more than this for Homo sapiens. Homo spirans, Homo amans, Roamer of the Earth for aeons. Thriver through ages of ice. Homo pugnans, homo narrans*, Hauler Down of Bear and Mammoth. We are they—the same line. Give me sun and give me song, and I will charge our blood with ancient life. Give me sun and give me song—and the years I’ll sing us back to ice. This chthonic howl echoes across Metachthonia. Somewhere in the distance it is answered. Look to the sky, look to the hills, to ground you in this electric age. Look to the folk and the past they fill to ground you in this electric age. I find myself a being of consuming flame and seeing that the senses are deceived and isolated by machines. I find myself a being of consuming flame and seeing that the passions are deceived and maneuvered by machines. As you journey on through these modern times, walk light through the traps of the age. As you journey on through these modern times, walk heavy through the barriers made. Metachthonia! Metachthonia! Chthonic times are gone. Metachthonia! Metachthonia! Metachthonic times live on. Look not to these modern times—where diodes shine over the sun—to solve questions older than life, for the times only concern with themselves. II: The Chthonic Call Lost in urban sprawl. Spiritual withdrawal. Lights and screens decide all dreams. The distant landscape breathed and I heard the sky above—it groaned clouded words. Followed the chthonic call; journey to the coastal wall, where great trees stand across wide whispering land. The sound of waves striking cliffs was speech, conversation. Eternal tones, in the marrow of my bones: “And the fires burn bright. And they burn in number. Oh how they burn all across the Earth. And the fires burn all across the glowing Earth. And the fires burn for any who wish to find them. Any who wish to find them.” III: In Mist and Spray I plant my feet upon the cliff and breathe the spray of the sea. Arms wider than the thundering sky. I roared out to all I could see and stretched flame into the sky, though immersed in mist and spray. The fire that surged from heart to fist was ready to consume me. I saw the threads appear in the air: not quite cloud, not quite vine, glowing with each pulse, reaching high from my chest to the clouds. And the sky broke with crashing light and sound to deafen Thor himself. Lightning lit the ethereal braid. All went black. When the storm cleared I sprawled on the green. And the landscape breathed. The stars became life in the sky. When I felt the blood pulse in time with the Earth, I’d found my answer. *spirans: who hopes, aspires; amans - who loves, has passion; pugnans - who fights, battles; narrans - who tells stories, relays experiences. |
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2. | She Who Names the Stars | 09:19 | Show lyrics |
I: Still Life I walk the banks of the stream of electric thought for a ford back across. For here I am scattered, thoughts asunder, in tatters. No recollection of having crossed. The stream will always be found among the industrial sound. This is life in Metachthonia. But green can always be found among the industrial sound. There is still life in Metachthonia. The water runs so deep. I’ve seen so many taken by the will of the stream. But I must cross to the warmth of And the green of where I once was. The peace of life lived at my own will. The stream will always be found among the industrial sound. This is life in Metachthonia. But green can always be found among the industrial sound. There is still life in Metachthonia. All you, welcome to Metachthonia. It’s like the rustle of leaf to ground against the industrial sound. All you, welcome to Metachthonia. It’s like the sun on your skin while the diodes draw you in. It was verdant and the arching oaks swayed in a whispering wind. All quiet were the thorning groves, and shining lakes did brim. Then ’lecric industry arrived, emitting its cold and lifeless light. Dendritic verdure did subside to oil and fumes and torbanite. It left and with it nature’s realm and air with cedar scent and overhanging streets of elm with flowing branches bent. Although we see the trees around in this electric age, yet nothing of old nature’s old ways does seep into our veins. II: Asteric Understanding And on her arm was flame alive. In ink it lashed the wind, a binding to primordial times when flame was close as kin. A binding to time when survival hung on reading stars on luminous galactic ceiling. Even before the scientific, even before—in life—we could reach the stars, we knew the stars. Known in analogue, but known well. Mapped, we knew them as hag, hunter, stag, and thunder. A binding to time when survival hung on reading stars on luminous galactic ceiling—when to reap the bearded grain, when to hunt the running game, if the sun should wake again from winter’s slumbered plane. “Do you not take comfort in seeing the same stars as your ancestors? “If we must take strength from something greater than ourselves—for all that you hope and all that you are—why not revere the sun and stars? Our forebears worshiped the sun. Our forebears worshiped the stars. Asteric under-standing and far from without life immense in passion and pulse.” III: Seven Winters Look at seven winters past—the changes to the world. What, in seven winters more, could dare to be revealed? So now is pattern visible, and conversation opened, for us, the treaders on the cusp of now and coming moment. For in this age the choice is ours when to connect or flee. But soon’s the time when we will learn the meaning of ubiquity. Look at seven winters past—the changes to the world. What, in seven winters more, could dare to be unfurled? Think, Metachthonic, where does it end, the reach of ’lecric nets? Look at present, past, and future trend, and what they may beget.” Having spoke, she looked to the shimmering sky. She saw our past, present, future, and so did I. In the shower of ageless light, I understood. “Astronomer,” I began. But when my eyes fell from the sky, she was gone. |
|||
3. | Dead of Winter | 09:35 | Show lyrics |
I: Spoke The Huntress “Hail, Metachthonic! You there! Chthonic human in this post-natural world. You stand in isolation from the verdant Gaian nation. All you! Welcome to Metachthonia! Thoughtbuilt walls hold you all. You’ve risen from the Earth long after it birthed the age where cold light Shines above sun-warmth. You stand in isolation from the verdant Gaian nation. Though stalwart, cold logic is not enough for the pyric human to thrive and burn. If in the valley of the spirit ice lies across the river, it’s never in breaking through the ice. It’s in the burning of the brand —in the warming of the land—that ice will lift. All you! Welcome to Metachthonia! Those without fire have kept you from burning brighter. II: The Bone Hand At the black edge of defeat, shatter the bones of your adversary. And howl out to the glowing night; drink deep its immortality. Before we go into the ground—before the bone hand drags us in —seek the moments of euphoria, the fires that light the great hall of a life. Relentless pursuer of enigma, incessant as the snow that falls, stand, lungs aflame, over your prey. Drink deep of burning clarity. III: Topos, Mythos, Anthropos “Huntress! I feel so cold, so tired. I’ve always charged, I’ve never baulked. But now the summit seems so far. Huntress! Have you ever been, so cold and tired, like the dead of winter?” “Metachthonic, you are weathered, not broken. Be-cause it is dark will there never be light? Because it is cold will there never be warmth? It is not the dead of winter. It is the heart of winter. Know you not the land on which you tread? For, under the snow, a heart beats hard. Can you not see its image in the self? Run with me. We will hunt the spirit of the land. In the solar glow, we will hunt. Hunt with me where topos, mythos, anthropos* collide. Woven to our souls we take our prize. Hear its beating heart; see the ice lift off the river. Weave this tapestry to adorn the great hall of life. *topos - place, location (cf. toponym); mythos - story, myth, legend; anthropos - human being |
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4. | Hypochthonic Remnants | 08:19 | Show lyrics |
I: Subterranean Glastonbury shapings; Carnac arrangings. Hypochthonic remnants summon Metachthonic tenants*. Songs of ages past lived and died still neolithic. Lore of ages past has waited for years to come to you. Raknehaugen, Anundshög, draw you through temporal murk. Sub-terranean remnants summon post-terranean tenants. We souls of ages past, we’ll tear up the earth to get to you. Buried neath the megalithic, spirits of ages past: the slumbering to rise again. Post-terranean vastlands, the self in terms electrical. All voiceless aspirants who hope in hexadecimals. We are the hypochthonic; we will give you voice. To you, the innate electronic, to rise above the noise. II: Song of Chthonia “We are the air that wakes with the dawn. We are the fire that burns with the midday sun. We are the water that cools with the dusk. We are the earth that restores with the midnight calm.” The times change like the river flows by: swift and raging. Never aware where its hurried course lies, yet ever racing. To take the times wholesale is to be taken by the times; to take the past wholesale is to be left behind. To weigh the finest of past and present is to navigate the times. In any year, culture, clime; to navigate is to thrive. Sing, sing to the sky the dark song of Chthonia. Sing loud, sing to the times, a call through Metachthonia. I am the air; far I shall roam Under the sky in all of its shades. I am fire; long I shall burn To renew the self and temper the blade. I am water; clear I shall flow To cleanse the self of what sullies the times. I am the earth; firm I shall stand. Hold fast to what shines through from the past. III: At Odell’s Heart When you stand among the pine, You stand in a far-stretching line Of all who’ve stood in rapture here And all who shall in coming year. For in the wood you are the same As those to come and those who came To root themselves in rapture here And those who shall in coming year. To sit at Odell’s heart and contemplate the times among the fallen hemlock that rampart on all sides. To sit at Odell’s heart and contemplate what’s mine; what’s mine to give, receive, provide; what’s owed me by the times; what the times should give, provide, for all beneath them to thrive—so we know, like each fleck of snow in the storm, none is alone in this plight. It’s a grounding, among these electric times to reflect what the times have become. To shrug off the wires and, in cool cedar air, think with forgotten clarity. A grounding, among these electric times. Your feet to the earth and your mind to its calm. Your soul to all who have stood where you are—to feel in their bones how timelessness flows now in the air around you. *hypochthonic: subterranean |
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5. | Rivers of Underthought | 08:43 | Show lyrics |
I: River With the fresh, fragrant air does the river course by, yet unaware where its hurried course lies. Driven by current, all- encompassing tow, life on the surface moved by what roils below. So as we wend through speech and encounter, the rivers of underthought carry us forward. Awareness can grasp the path left in its wake, but never the course that the current shall take. Brother of mine, when we meet, the gestures and tones rivers of underthought let fly from your bones. Sister of mine, when we hear the songwords and tones, rivers of underthought seep into our bones. II: Stream And so they connect us, what truly bind us all to one another. Streams unseen, under all thought, join like the reservoirs and tributaries — as seen from miles above the Earth, stretching into its curvature. Join like the great interconnection of all water, of all life. As the rivers of underthought flow to the sea, through deltas to oceans, lakes, and estuaries. From any of their seven billion sources. The latticework of human experience. III: Deluge How the torrents sometimes rage; how they sometimes wane to rivulet; how they sometimes freeze with the cold; how they sometimes build so strong, so relentless, so boundless as to swell and swell and burst the dam. As the white water roars into the valley below, this is how we change, how the valley of the spirit reshapes its face — renews, restores, returns us again to balance. So crash together, run together, rivers of underthought. Oh the deluge when we gathe |
|||
6. | In Mist We Walk | 11:39 | Show lyrics |
I: The Hammering The mountain looms in the clouds above. Although of the earth, it stands with the gods. It was so easy to stare at screen while all outside was in vibrant green. So I fed the mind while body withered away. Now I put one foot before the other and a journey begins. The hammering of my heart, the great flesh anvil. The same redfire heart with which this life is forged thunders with the thrill of the unknown path—Thor’s hammer pounding against my chest. The terror that succeeds the shapes/Surrounding in the forest mist./The air that fills with mythic taste/Which binds to me from heart to fist. And when I re-emerge and leave the fog with the trees the thoughts I’ve won are seared to me forevermore. The hammering of my heart, the great flesh anvil. The same redfire heart on which all myth is born flares at the distant scent of laurel wreaths, heaves at the sight of a newfound path—Lugh’s fire roaring within my chest. II: Vernal Rains Here sits our hundred ‘lectric years in the shadow of chthonic millennia. Is this progress? As we sit our waking hours in worship at diode altars. Diodes only displace darkness; they never illuminate. You! who would choose the dark so the sun might burn even brighter as it soars. You! who would lose the brightness of the diode to regain the night and its lore. Your season is nigh. I can feel it on the wind. I can smell the chthonic climes as the vernal rains begin. You! who would spend waking hours with life immense in passion, pulse, and power. You! who would walk through hexadecimal thunder with the will of the advancing hunter. Your season is nigh. I can feel it on the wind. I can smell the chthonic climes as the vernal rains begin. “Every age has them. Every age has those who learn to thrive like sovereigns. Who walk each step with the fire of life, aware some days burn brighter than others. Who learn the landscape of the time. Its hills, its valleys. Who learn to navigate it with precision. With passion. With pulse. With immensity of spirit.” III: Another Journey Begins I walk the banks of the stream of electric thought. I cross to the warmth of where I once was. I look down to see a sixfold flame in hand. Sing me the dark songs of Chthonia. Sing life immense in passion and pulse. I am the snow that falls: incessant, relentless, boundless. I am the rain that whips: raging, cleansing, cool. I am the sun that burns: awakened and scatt’ring the clouds. I am the heart that heaves: renewed, thundering. Sing me the dark songs of Chthonia. Sing me the song of Metachthonia. Sing me life immense in passion and pulse. I am the river that swells: incessant, relentless, boundless. I am the dam that bursts: raging, cleansing, cool. I am the stride ahead. I am the journey that begins. You! spiritwalker, igniter of the sixfold flame—you! who breathe the essence of fire and exhale the chant of life. You! Who rend the earth and snow beneath your feet as you hurl yourself through endless miles of trails—to the summit of your pursuits. In mist we walk through the lands of Metachthonia. From mist we emerge and build the fires of old Chthonia. And the fires burn bright, All across the earth, For any who wish to find them. For any who wish to find them. For the fires burn bright, All across the earth. One foot before the other, And another journey begins. In mist we walk, we sovereigns of old Chthonia. From mist we emerge, crowned sovereigns of Metachthonia. Rule on into the dusk. |
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58:20 |
Metachthonia
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Brendan Hayter | Bass, Songwriting (track 5) |
Rae Amitay | Drums, Vocals (additional) (track 3) |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Songwriting, Lyrics |
Guest/Session | |
John Duke | Guitars (lead) (track 5) |
Raphael Weinroth-Browne | Cello |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Pete Grossman | Recording (drums, Rae’s vocals) |
Leon Taheny | Recording (cellos) |
Joel Violette | Producer |
Knate Myers | Photography (cover) |
Adam Gillis | Logo |
Brett Goodchild | Layout |
Siegfried Meier | Mixing, Mastering, Producer |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Disc 1 | |||
Side A | |||
1. | Fires That Light the Earth | 10:40 | Show lyrics |
I: Of Consuming Flame There must be more, much more, to life than this electric, egocentric, current circumstance. On this Earth, there must be more than this for Homo sapiens. Homo spirans, Homo amans, Roamer of the Earth for aeons. Thriver through ages of ice. Homo pugnans, homo narrans*, Hauler Down of Bear and Mammoth. We are they—the same line. Give me sun and give me song, and I will charge our blood with ancient life. Give me sun and give me song—and the years I’ll sing us back to ice. This chthonic howl echoes across Metachthonia. Somewhere in the distance it is answered. Look to the sky, look to the hills, to ground you in this electric age. Look to the folk and the past they fill to ground you in this electric age. I find myself a being of consuming flame and seeing that the senses are deceived and isolated by machines. I find myself a being of consuming flame and seeing that the passions are deceived and maneuvered by machines. As you journey on through these modern times, walk light through the traps of the age. As you journey on through these modern times, walk heavy through the barriers made. Metachthonia! Metachthonia! Chthonic times are gone. Metachthonia! Metachthonia! Metachthonic times live on. Look not to these modern times—where diodes shine over the sun—to solve questions older than life, for the times only concern with themselves. II: The Chthonic Call Lost in urban sprawl. Spiritual withdrawal. Lights and screens decide all dreams. The distant landscape breathed and I heard the sky above—it groaned clouded words. Followed the chthonic call; journey to the coastal wall, where great trees stand across wide whispering land. The sound of waves striking cliffs was speech, conversation. Eternal tones, in the marrow of my bones: “And the fires burn bright. And they burn in number. Oh how they burn all across the Earth. And the fires burn all across the glowing Earth. And the fires burn for any who wish to find them. Any who wish to find them.” III: In Mist and Spray I plant my feet upon the cliff and breathe the spray of the sea. Arms wider than the thundering sky. I roared out to all I could see and stretched flame into the sky, though immersed in mist and spray. The fire that surged from heart to fist was ready to consume me. I saw the threads appear in the air: not quite cloud, not quite vine, glowing with each pulse, reaching high from my chest to the clouds. And the sky broke with crashing light and sound to deafen Thor himself. Lightning lit the ethereal braid. All went black. When the storm cleared I sprawled on the green. And the landscape breathed. The stars became life in the sky. When I felt the blood pulse in time with the Earth, I’d found my answer. *spirans: who hopes, aspires; amans - who loves, has passion; pugnans - who fights, battles; narrans - who tells stories, relays experiences. |
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2. | She Who Names the Stars | 09:20 | Show lyrics |
I: Still Life I walk the banks of the stream of electric thought for a ford back across. For here I am scattered, thoughts asunder, in tatters. No recollection of having crossed. The stream will always be found among the industrial sound. This is life in Metachthonia. But green can always be found among the industrial sound. There is still life in Metachthonia. The water runs so deep. I’ve seen so many taken by the will of the stream. But I must cross to the warmth of And the green of where I once was. The peace of life lived at my own will. The stream will always be found among the industrial sound. This is life in Metachthonia. But green can always be found among the industrial sound. There is still life in Metachthonia. All you, welcome to Metachthonia. It’s like the rustle of leaf to ground against the industrial sound. All you, welcome to Metachthonia. It’s like the sun on your skin while the diodes draw you in. It was verdant and the arching oaks swayed in a whispering wind. All quiet were the thorning groves, and shining lakes did brim. Then ’lecric industry arrived, emitting its cold and lifeless light. Dendritic verdure did subside to oil and fumes and torbanite. It left and with it nature’s realm and air with cedar scent and overhanging streets of elm with flowing branches bent. Although we see the trees around in this electric age, yet nothing of old nature’s old ways does seep into our veins. II: Asteric Understanding And on her arm was flame alive. In ink it lashed the wind, a binding to primordial times when flame was close as kin. A binding to time when survival hung on reading stars on luminous galactic ceiling. Even before the scientific, even before—in life—we could reach the stars, we knew the stars. Known in analogue, but known well. Mapped, we knew them as hag, hunter, stag, and thunder. A binding to time when survival hung on reading stars on luminous galactic ceiling—when to reap the bearded grain, when to hunt the running game, if the sun should wake again from winter’s slumbered plane. “Do you not take comfort in seeing the same stars as your ancestors? “If we must take strength from something greater than ourselves—for all that you hope and all that you are—why not revere the sun and stars? Our forebears worshiped the sun. Our forebears worshiped the stars. Asteric under-standing and far from without life immense in passion and pulse.” III: Seven Winters Look at seven winters past—the changes to the world. What, in seven winters more, could dare to be revealed? So now is pattern visible, and conversation opened, for us, the treaders on the cusp of now and coming moment. For in this age the choice is ours when to connect or flee. But soon’s the time when we will learn the meaning of ubiquity. Look at seven winters past—the changes to the world. What, in seven winters more, could dare to be unfurled? Think, Metachthonic, where does it end, the reach of ’lecric nets? Look at present, past, and future trend, and what they may beget.” Having spoke, she looked to the shimmering sky. She saw our past, present, future, and so did I. In the shower of ageless light, I understood. “Astronomer,” I began. But when my eyes fell from the sky, she was gone. |
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Side B | |||
3. | Dead of Winter | 09:36 | Show lyrics |
I: Spoke The Huntress “Hail, Metachthonic! You there! Chthonic human in this post-natural world. You stand in isolation from the verdant Gaian nation. All you! Welcome to Metachthonia! Thoughtbuilt walls hold you all. You’ve risen from the Earth long after it birthed the age where cold light Shines above sun-warmth. You stand in isolation from the verdant Gaian nation. Though stalwart, cold logic is not enough for the pyric human to thrive and burn. If in the valley of the spirit ice lies across the river, it’s never in breaking through the ice. It’s in the burning of the brand —in the warming of the land—that ice will lift. All you! Welcome to Metachthonia! Those without fire have kept you from burning brighter. II: The Bone Hand At the black edge of defeat, shatter the bones of your adversary. And howl out to the glowing night; drink deep its immortality. Before we go into the ground—before the bone hand drags us in —seek the moments of euphoria, the fires that light the great hall of a life. Relentless pursuer of enigma, incessant as the snow that falls, stand, lungs aflame, over your prey. Drink deep of burning clarity. III: Topos, Mythos, Anthropos “Huntress! I feel so cold, so tired. I’ve always charged, I’ve never baulked. But now the summit seems so far. Huntress! Have you ever been, so cold and tired, like the dead of winter?” “Metachthonic, you are weathered, not broken. Be-cause it is dark will there never be light? Because it is cold will there never be warmth? It is not the dead of winter. It is the heart of winter. Know you not the land on which you tread? For, under the snow, a heart beats hard. Can you not see its image in the self? Run with me. We will hunt the spirit of the land. In the solar glow, we will hunt. Hunt with me where topos, mythos, anthropos* collide. Woven to our souls we take our prize. Hear its beating heart; see the ice lift off the river. Weave this tapestry to adorn the great hall of life. *topos - place, location (cf. toponym); mythos - story, myth, legend; anthropos - human being |
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4. | Hypochthonic Remnants | 08:20 | Show lyrics |
I: Subterranean Glastonbury shapings; Carnac arrangings. Hypochthonic remnants summon Metachthonic tenants*. Songs of ages past lived and died still neolithic. Lore of ages past has waited for years to come to you. Raknehaugen, Anundshög, draw you through temporal murk. Sub-terranean remnants summon post-terranean tenants. We souls of ages past, we’ll tear up the earth to get to you. Buried neath the megalithic, spirits of ages past: the slumbering to rise again. Post-terranean vastlands, the self in terms electrical. All voiceless aspirants who hope in hexadecimals. We are the hypochthonic; we will give you voice. To you, the innate electronic, to rise above the noise. II: Song of Chthonia “We are the air that wakes with the dawn. We are the fire that burns with the midday sun. We are the water that cools with the dusk. We are the earth that restores with the midnight calm.” The times change like the river flows by: swift and raging. Never aware where its hurried course lies, yet ever racing. To take the times wholesale is to be taken by the times; to take the past wholesale is to be left behind. To weigh the finest of past and present is to navigate the times. In any year, culture, clime; to navigate is to thrive. Sing, sing to the sky the dark song of Chthonia. Sing loud, sing to the times, a call through Metachthonia. I am the air; far I shall roam Under the sky in all of its shades. I am fire; long I shall burn To renew the self and temper the blade. I am water; clear I shall flow To cleanse the self of what sullies the times. I am the earth; firm I shall stand. Hold fast to what shines through from the past. III: At Odell’s Heart When you stand among the pine, You stand in a far-stretching line Of all who’ve stood in rapture here And all who shall in coming year. For in the wood you are the same As those to come and those who came To root themselves in rapture here And those who shall in coming year. To sit at Odell’s heart and contemplate the times among the fallen hemlock that rampart on all sides. To sit at Odell’s heart and contemplate what’s mine; what’s mine to give, receive, provide; what’s owed me by the times; what the times should give, provide, for all beneath them to thrive—so we know, like each fleck of snow in the storm, none is alone in this plight. It’s a grounding, among these electric times to reflect what the times have become. To shrug off the wires and, in cool cedar air, think with forgotten clarity. A grounding, among these electric times. Your feet to the earth and your mind to its calm. Your soul to all who have stood where you are—to feel in their bones how timelessness flows now in the air around you. *hypochthonic: subterranean |
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37:56 | |||
Disc 2 | |||
Side A | |||
1. | Rivers of Underthought | 08:43 | Show lyrics |
I: River With the fresh, fragrant air does the river course by, yet unaware where its hurried course lies. Driven by current, all- encompassing tow, life on the surface moved by what roils below. So as we wend through speech and encounter, the rivers of underthought carry us forward. Awareness can grasp the path left in its wake, but never the course that the current shall take. Brother of mine, when we meet, the gestures and tones rivers of underthought let fly from your bones. Sister of mine, when we hear the songwords and tones, rivers of underthought seep into our bones. II: Stream And so they connect us, what truly bind us all to one another. Streams unseen, under all thought, join like the reservoirs and tributaries — as seen from miles above the Earth, stretching into its curvature. Join like the great interconnection of all water, of all life. As the rivers of underthought flow to the sea, through deltas to oceans, lakes, and estuaries. From any of their seven billion sources. The latticework of human experience. III: Deluge How the torrents sometimes rage; how they sometimes wane to rivulet; how they sometimes freeze with the cold; how they sometimes build so strong, so relentless, so boundless as to swell and swell and burst the dam. As the white water roars into the valley below, this is how we change, how the valley of the spirit reshapes its face — renews, restores, returns us again to balance. So crash together, run together, rivers of underthought. Oh the deluge when we gathe |
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2. | In Mist We Walk | 11:40 | Show lyrics |
I: The Hammering The mountain looms in the clouds above. Although of the earth, it stands with the gods. It was so easy to stare at screen while all outside was in vibrant green. So I fed the mind while body withered away. Now I put one foot before the other and a journey begins. The hammering of my heart, the great flesh anvil. The same redfire heart with which this life is forged thunders with the thrill of the unknown path—Thor’s hammer pounding against my chest. The terror that succeeds the shapes/Surrounding in the forest mist./The air that fills with mythic taste/Which binds to me from heart to fist. And when I re-emerge and leave the fog with the trees the thoughts I’ve won are seared to me forevermore. The hammering of my heart, the great flesh anvil. The same redfire heart on which all myth is born flares at the distant scent of laurel wreaths, heaves at the sight of a newfound path—Lugh’s fire roaring within my chest. II: Vernal Rains Here sits our hundred ‘lectric years in the shadow of chthonic millennia. Is this progress? As we sit our waking hours in worship at diode altars. Diodes only displace darkness; they never illuminate. You! who would choose the dark so the sun might burn even brighter as it soars. You! who would lose the brightness of the diode to regain the night and its lore. Your season is nigh. I can feel it on the wind. I can smell the chthonic climes as the vernal rains begin. You! who would spend waking hours with life immense in passion, pulse, and power. You! who would walk through hexadecimal thunder with the will of the advancing hunter. Your season is nigh. I can feel it on the wind. I can smell the chthonic climes as the vernal rains begin. “Every age has them. Every age has those who learn to thrive like sovereigns. Who walk each step with the fire of life, aware some days burn brighter than others. Who learn the landscape of the time. Its hills, its valleys. Who learn to navigate it with precision. With passion. With pulse. With immensity of spirit.” III: Another Journey Begins I walk the banks of the stream of electric thought. I cross to the warmth of where I once was. I look down to see a sixfold flame in hand. Sing me the dark songs of Chthonia. Sing life immense in passion and pulse. I am the snow that falls: incessant, relentless, boundless. I am the rain that whips: raging, cleansing, cool. I am the sun that burns: awakened and scatt’ring the clouds. I am the heart that heaves: renewed, thundering. Sing me the dark songs of Chthonia. Sing me the song of Metachthonia. Sing me life immense in passion and pulse. I am the river that swells: incessant, relentless, boundless. I am the dam that bursts: raging, cleansing, cool. I am the stride ahead. I am the journey that begins. You! spiritwalker, igniter of the sixfold flame—you! who breathe the essence of fire and exhale the chant of life. You! Who rend the earth and snow beneath your feet as you hurl yourself through endless miles of trails—to the summit of your pursuits. In mist we walk through the lands of Metachthonia. From mist we emerge and build the fires of old Chthonia. And the fires burn bright, All across the earth, For any who wish to find them. For any who wish to find them. For the fires burn bright, All across the earth. One foot before the other, And another journey begins. In mist we walk, we sovereigns of old Chthonia. From mist we emerge, crowned sovereigns of Metachthonia. Rule on into the dusk. |
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Side B | |||
3. | Fires (Acoustic) | 04:24 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
4. | In Mist (Acoustic) | 04:16 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
29:03 |
Great Brunswick Forest
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Rae Amitay | Drums |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Songwriting |
Guest/Session | |
Keegan MC | Fiddle |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Siegfried Meier | Mixing, Mastering, Engineering, Production |
Joel Violette | Producer, Engineer, Artwork, Layout, Photography |
Brett Goodchild | Artwork, Layout |
Adam Gillis | Cover lettering |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Green Man of East Canada | 03:30 | Show lyrics |
I chanced to meet a strange man Down a Brunswick lane, Dressed in brown and a vagabond’s cloak A timeless image from the wood. I stopped and said to him Before he passed me by, "Stranger to these Maritime shores, spare me a moment of your time!" Green Man of East Canada Dark Shores of Northumberland Green man, sing, man, of your journey ’cross the waves! I’m no stranger to these lands, Though they’re not my own. I left with the changed tides To call this Brunswick kingdom home. Its shores alive with green, Its cities cloaked in trees Like the halcyon of my youth, Thousands of old summers past. I wear the emblems of the summer and I bear its pulsing song. I carry it through winter, I spread it when the snows have gone. Across the jagged seas I traveled With the first to cross them, And spread my arms across the richness of these misted lands. |
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2. | Here I Am a Fortress | 06:18 | Show lyrics |
Here I am a fortress. Heavy were my days; sleep wore my nights; Toil was my bane; but stone was my will. O my allies in blood and in spirit— Together we roam the brimming glades! But on my own I face the wailing winds Of languor, so here I am a fortress. Fashioned from the surrounding land, I stand against the winds. Here strength I summon and travel inward; I see into the earth. Its ore I gather, and smelt out in the depths of this fortress mine. So when we gather, then I emerge And I bear for you shimmering ore. Among the rocks did I lay; among the roots did I slumber; In the earth did I sleep; I was devoured by the sun. I was washed into the sea; I became naught but purpose; But then I rose and strong I stood Against the weight I chose to carry. A fortress I am and here I stand, Fashioned I am from this land. Life is not simply to breathe, Nor to break back for others’ intents. Life is to grow, to struggle free, To assert one’s own unique existence. A fortress of stone is what I am. Fashioned I am from this land, First crumbled down, down, Indiscernible from Earth. |
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3. | Via Canadensis | 03:06 | Show lyrics |
Vast river flows a mari usque ad mare, Tethering cities so distant. We ride to see the stones, the great standing stones They tower like the memories and myths they mark. On we go — to the standing stones we’ve made! On we go — to the standing stones we’ve yet to raise! So stand the stones a mari usque ad mare, Tethering times so distant. As we stand in awe, we prepare to carve out our own. On we go — anchored in the earth. On we go — megalithic art for these transient times. |
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4. | Song of the Summit | 03:18 | Show lyrics |
I who have cast my eye on the world, I see what I am. See what I take for granted and given, I lies and traps dispel. I who have cast my eye on the self, I see the earth. I own what I take for granted and given, I lay bare the distant spell. Through this wanderer’s eye, I see the way. The song of the summit calls through autumn’s haze. I who have journeyed for days on foot, I learn what I am. Learn what becomes of all my trappings, As I wake on misted ground. I the ascender of thousands of feet, I survey the land. And so I bind my sapling learnings To the great canvas sprawling below |
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5. | Thus Spoke the Wind | 04:19 | Show lyrics |
Peace becomes fire, still beneath night. Raven, sing words of the sky. Mind cast alone for knowledge in my bones. Whisper, wind, secrets that I hold. Ancient wind, show me now; Kindle the fire and dispel The thundering skies behind my brow So I might give unto this world. The throne of your mind, in great knotted pine, You must claim. Thus spoke the wind. The storm of your soul, which across wide valleys rolls, You must tame. Thus spoke the wind. |
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6. | Great Brunswick Forest | 03:55 | Show lyrics |
From inside the windblown treeline I saw another great tree fall, Torn in twin by the immortal wind, Like thunder shook us all. But now I’m borne on through the storm, For better or for grim. Blood and bone and rain and stone I’ll face Time and the Immortal Wind. Sing Time and the Immortal Wind, I say, The great healer of beast and man. But as one hand it makes, the other it takes, Time and the Immortal Wind. But in the Great Brunswick Forest Time stands regal, still. The immortal wind howls on in At the timelessness that here fills. For every kin to fall herein Springs a sapling in its stead. It’s the one lone to resist the throne Of Time and the Immortal Wind! But we are not unlike the wood That through the harsh wind throve. With all those who’ve gone and all those to come We stand in flowing groves. Shoulder to shoulder you and I stand With all who will ever have been. These words we will chant and we will withstand Time and the Immortal Wind! |
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7. | Singer of Ageless Times | 04:30 | Show lyrics |
Let me sing you songs from the Maritimes; Let me sing you songs from the summertide. Come times of plenty, times of none, As Lady Prosperity comes and goes, As Good Lady Fortune makes her rounds Of the Earth. A singer of these times, These ever changeless times. With Brunswick strings and Scotia pipes, A singer of these times, These ever changeless times. Our songs they carry on long past the grave. The songs of our forebears strong remain. No distance from them in age or in place As we strum and sing the notes of our forebears. Let me bring you tides from the Maritimes; Let me bring you tides from the wintertime. As pines and poplars shrug off the storms, And the halls and dwellings open their doors, And we know that what December darkness brought Is reversed. When Lady Prosperity rides ‘cross the land And the sun shines down on sea and forest, Wherever she treads — or not — we thrive. Tell me, how are we so different from our forebears? Let me bring you tides from the Maritimes, Ever changeless tides from the Maritimes. We still hail the summer, we still tell our tales. We still sing the winter, and toast with our ales. So I stand up and shout, my friends, “What shall Ever change?” |
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8. | Dark Sky Sanctuary | 04:14 | Show lyrics |
Here another journey ends, As too the sun lays to rest, Where stellar flame suffers no restraints— For me a passage earnt to time of stone. In this dark sky sanctuary, In this shrine of stellar light. Myriads only seen at night above the trees, In this dark sky sanctuary. A rite of stone in ‘lectric time To name the stars in their own light. Extratemporal mind brings introspective gifts, Binding to the shining myths above. |
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33:10 |
Great Brunswick Forest
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Rae Amitay | Drums |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Songwriting |
Guest/Session | |
Keegan MC | Fiddle |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Siegfried Meier | Mixing, Mastering, Engineering, Production |
Joel Violette | Producer, Engineer, Artwork, Layout, Photography |
Brett Goodchild | Artwork, Layout |
Adam Gillis | Cover lettering |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Green Man of East Canada | 03:30 | Show lyrics |
I chanced to meet a strange man Down a Brunswick lane, Dressed in brown and a vagabond’s cloak A timeless image from the wood. I stopped and said to him Before he passed me by, "Stranger to these Maritime shores, spare me a moment of your time!" Green Man of East Canada Dark Shores of Northumberland Green man, sing, man, of your journey ’cross the waves! I’m no stranger to these lands, Though they’re not my own. I left with the changed tides To call this Brunswick kingdom home. Its shores alive with green, Its cities cloaked in trees Like the halcyon of my youth, Thousands of old summers past. I wear the emblems of the summer and I bear its pulsing song. I carry it through winter, I spread it when the snows have gone. Across the jagged seas I traveled With the first to cross them, And spread my arms across the richness of these misted lands. |
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2. | Here I Am a Fortress | 06:18 | Show lyrics |
Here I am a fortress. Heavy were my days; sleep wore my nights; Toil was my bane; but stone was my will. O my allies in blood and in spirit— Together we roam the brimming glades! But on my own I face the wailing winds Of languor, so here I am a fortress. Fashioned from the surrounding land, I stand against the winds. Here strength I summon and travel inward; I see into the earth. Its ore I gather, and smelt out in the depths of this fortress mine. So when we gather, then I emerge And I bear for you shimmering ore. Among the rocks did I lay; among the roots did I slumber; In the earth did I sleep; I was devoured by the sun. I was washed into the sea; I became naught but purpose; But then I rose and strong I stood Against the weight I chose to carry. A fortress I am and here I stand, Fashioned I am from this land. Life is not simply to breathe, Nor to break back for others’ intents. Life is to grow, to struggle free, To assert one’s own unique existence. A fortress of stone is what I am. Fashioned I am from this land, First crumbled down, down, Indiscernible from Earth. |
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3. | Via Canadensis | 03:06 | Show lyrics |
Vast river flows a mari usque ad mare, Tethering cities so distant. We ride to see the stones, the great standing stones They tower like the memories and myths they mark. On we go — to the standing stones we’ve made! On we go — to the standing stones we’ve yet to raise! So stand the stones a mari usque ad mare, Tethering times so distant. As we stand in awe, we prepare to carve out our own. On we go — anchored in the earth. On we go — megalithic art for these transient times. |
|||
4. | Song of the Summit | 03:18 | Show lyrics |
I who have cast my eye on the world, I see what I am. See what I take for granted and given, I lies and traps dispel. I who have cast my eye on the self, I see the earth. I own what I take for granted and given, I lay bare the distant spell. Through this wanderer’s eye, I see the way. The song of the summit calls through autumn’s haze. I who have journeyed for days on foot, I learn what I am. Learn what becomes of all my trappings, As I wake on misted ground. I the ascender of thousands of feet, I survey the land. And so I bind my sapling learnings To the great canvas sprawling below |
|||
5. | Thus Spoke the Wind | 04:19 | Show lyrics |
Peace becomes fire, still beneath night. Raven, sing words of the sky. Mind cast alone for knowledge in my bones. Whisper, wind, secrets that I hold. Ancient wind, show me now; Kindle the fire and dispel The thundering skies behind my brow So I might give unto this world. The throne of your mind, in great knotted pine, You must claim. Thus spoke the wind. The storm of your soul, which across wide valleys rolls, You must tame. Thus spoke the wind. |
|||
6. | Great Brunswick Forest | 03:55 | Show lyrics |
From inside the windblown treeline I saw another great tree fall, Torn in twin by the immortal wind, Like thunder shook us all. But now I’m borne on through the storm, For better or for grim. Blood and bone and rain and stone I’ll face Time and the Immortal Wind. Sing Time and the Immortal Wind, I say, The great healer of beast and man. But as one hand it makes, the other it takes, Time and the Immortal Wind. But in the Great Brunswick Forest Time stands regal, still. The immortal wind howls on in At the timelessness that here fills. For every kin to fall herein Springs a sapling in its stead. It’s the one lone to resist the throne Of Time and the Immortal Wind! But we are not unlike the wood That through the harsh wind throve. With all those who’ve gone and all those to come We stand in flowing groves. Shoulder to shoulder you and I stand With all who will ever have been. These words we will chant and we will withstand Time and the Immortal Wind! |
|||
7. | Singer of Ageless Times | 04:30 | Show lyrics |
Let me sing you songs from the Maritimes; Let me sing you songs from the summertide. Come times of plenty, times of none, As Lady Prosperity comes and goes, As Good Lady Fortune makes her rounds Of the Earth. A singer of these times, These ever changeless times. With Brunswick strings and Scotia pipes, A singer of these times, These ever changeless times. Our songs they carry on long past the grave. The songs of our forebears strong remain. No distance from them in age or in place As we strum and sing the notes of our forebears. Let me bring you tides from the Maritimes; Let me bring you tides from the wintertime. As pines and poplars shrug off the storms, And the halls and dwellings open their doors, And we know that what December darkness brought Is reversed. When Lady Prosperity rides ‘cross the land And the sun shines down on sea and forest, Wherever she treads — or not — we thrive. Tell me, how are we so different from our forebears? Let me bring you tides from the Maritimes, Ever changeless tides from the Maritimes. We still hail the summer, we still tell our tales. We still sing the winter, and toast with our ales. So I stand up and shout, my friends, “What shall Ever change?” |
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8. | Dark Sky Sanctuary | 04:14 | Show lyrics |
Here another journey ends, As too the sun lays to rest, Where stellar flame suffers no restraints— For me a passage earnt to time of stone. In this dark sky sanctuary, In this shrine of stellar light. Myriads only seen at night above the trees, In this dark sky sanctuary. A rite of stone in ‘lectric time To name the stars in their own light. Extratemporal mind brings introspective gifts, Binding to the shining myths above. |
|||
33:10 |
Great Brunswick Forest
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Rae Amitay | Drums |
Joel Violette | Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Songwriting |
Guest/Session | |
Keegan MC | Fiddle |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Siegfried Meier | Mixing, Mastering, Engineering, Production |
Joel Violette | Producer, Engineer, Artwork, Layout, Photography |
Brett Goodchild | Artwork, Layout |
Adam Gillis | Cover lettering |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Green Man of East Canada | 03:30 | Show lyrics |
I chanced to meet a strange man Down a Brunswick lane, Dressed in brown and a vagabond’s cloak A timeless image from the wood. I stopped and said to him Before he passed me by, "Stranger to these Maritime shores, spare me a moment of your time!" Green Man of East Canada Dark Shores of Northumberland Green man, sing, man, of your journey ’cross the waves! I’m no stranger to these lands, Though they’re not my own. I left with the changed tides To call this Brunswick kingdom home. Its shores alive with green, Its cities cloaked in trees Like the halcyon of my youth, Thousands of old summers past. I wear the emblems of the summer and I bear its pulsing song. I carry it through winter, I spread it when the snows have gone. Across the jagged seas I traveled With the first to cross them, And spread my arms across the richness of these misted lands. |
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2. | Here I Am a Fortress | 06:18 | Show lyrics |
Here I am a fortress. Heavy were my days; sleep wore my nights; Toil was my bane; but stone was my will. O my allies in blood and in spirit— Together we roam the brimming glades! But on my own I face the wailing winds Of languor, so here I am a fortress. Fashioned from the surrounding land, I stand against the winds. Here strength I summon and travel inward; I see into the earth. Its ore I gather, and smelt out in the depths of this fortress mine. So when we gather, then I emerge And I bear for you shimmering ore. Among the rocks did I lay; among the roots did I slumber; In the earth did I sleep; I was devoured by the sun. I was washed into the sea; I became naught but purpose; But then I rose and strong I stood Against the weight I chose to carry. A fortress I am and here I stand, Fashioned I am from this land. Life is not simply to breathe, Nor to break back for others’ intents. Life is to grow, to struggle free, To assert one’s own unique existence. A fortress of stone is what I am. Fashioned I am from this land, First crumbled down, down, Indiscernible from Earth. |
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3. | Via Canadensis | 03:06 | Show lyrics |
Vast river flows a mari usque ad mare, Tethering cities so distant. We ride to see the stones, the great standing stones They tower like the memories and myths they mark. On we go — to the standing stones we’ve made! On we go — to the standing stones we’ve yet to raise! So stand the stones a mari usque ad mare, Tethering times so distant. As we stand in awe, we prepare to carve out our own. On we go — anchored in the earth. On we go — megalithic art for these transient times. |
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4. | Song of the Summit | 03:18 | Show lyrics |
I who have cast my eye on the world, I see what I am. See what I take for granted and given, I lies and traps dispel. I who have cast my eye on the self, I see the earth. I own what I take for granted and given, I lay bare the distant spell. Through this wanderer’s eye, I see the way. The song of the summit calls through autumn’s haze. I who have journeyed for days on foot, I learn what I am. Learn what becomes of all my trappings, As I wake on misted ground. I the ascender of thousands of feet, I survey the land. And so I bind my sapling learnings To the great canvas sprawling below |
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5. | Thus Spoke the Wind | 04:19 | Show lyrics |
Peace becomes fire, still beneath night. Raven, sing words of the sky. Mind cast alone for knowledge in my bones. Whisper, wind, secrets that I hold. Ancient wind, show me now; Kindle the fire and dispel The thundering skies behind my brow So I might give unto this world. The throne of your mind, in great knotted pine, You must claim. Thus spoke the wind. The storm of your soul, which across wide valleys rolls, You must tame. Thus spoke the wind. |
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6. | Great Brunswick Forest | 03:55 | Show lyrics |
From inside the windblown treeline I saw another great tree fall, Torn in twin by the immortal wind, Like thunder shook us all. But now I’m borne on through the storm, For better or for grim. Blood and bone and rain and stone I’ll face Time and the Immortal Wind. Sing Time and the Immortal Wind, I say, The great healer of beast and man. But as one hand it makes, the other it takes, Time and the Immortal Wind. But in the Great Brunswick Forest Time stands regal, still. The immortal wind howls on in At the timelessness that here fills. For every kin to fall herein Springs a sapling in its stead. It’s the one lone to resist the throne Of Time and the Immortal Wind! But we are not unlike the wood That through the harsh wind throve. With all those who’ve gone and all those to come We stand in flowing groves. Shoulder to shoulder you and I stand With all who will ever have been. These words we will chant and we will withstand Time and the Immortal Wind! |
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7. | Singer of Ageless Times | 04:30 | Show lyrics |
Let me sing you songs from the Maritimes; Let me sing you songs from the summertide. Come times of plenty, times of none, As Lady Prosperity comes and goes, As Good Lady Fortune makes her rounds Of the Earth. A singer of these times, These ever changeless times. With Brunswick strings and Scotia pipes, A singer of these times, These ever changeless times. Our songs they carry on long past the grave. The songs of our forebears strong remain. No distance from them in age or in place As we strum and sing the notes of our forebears. Let me bring you tides from the Maritimes; Let me bring you tides from the wintertime. As pines and poplars shrug off the storms, And the halls and dwellings open their doors, And we know that what December darkness brought Is reversed. When Lady Prosperity rides ‘cross the land And the sun shines down on sea and forest, Wherever she treads — or not — we thrive. Tell me, how are we so different from our forebears? Let me bring you tides from the Maritimes, Ever changeless tides from the Maritimes. We still hail the summer, we still tell our tales. We still sing the winter, and toast with our ales. So I stand up and shout, my friends, “What shall Ever change?” |
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8. | Dark Sky Sanctuary | 04:14 | Show lyrics |
Here another journey ends, As too the sun lays to rest, Where stellar flame suffers no restraints— For me a passage earnt to time of stone. In this dark sky sanctuary, In this shrine of stellar light. Myriads only seen at night above the trees, In this dark sky sanctuary. A rite of stone in ‘lectric time To name the stars in their own light. Extratemporal mind brings introspective gifts, Binding to the shining myths above. |
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33:10 |
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