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Into the void we have to travel...
We have to travel into the void... into the storm, among cacti and blurred mice. Where even the most insignificant of creatures can become a disturbing shadow, a monster. Like Walt Disney's beast. Into the void. The Void. The only way to escape it is to scream, scream to silence this madness-inducing silence. Scream because what we think we hold is only fool's gold.
And don't give up, even having already lost from the start. So what do we have left to do? Not take ourselves too seriously. Seize the moment. Don't think. And let what must happen happen. In this way, sometimes fragments of broken hearts can sprout, giving life to precious pearls, small white sighs that wake us from our stupor.
And of the void, the storm before us is both antidote and poison, synthesis of sinful comatose adolescences, legitimate daughter of the lesser dinosaur, latent schizophrenia. It is the desperate melody of the drugged thing, the delicate greener whisper and the bewilderment I feel only when I touch you. It's an echo carried by the wind, tattooed for life on one's skin. When the storm explodes, it moves, can strike the heart and hypnotize, disillusioned, the melancholic breath that mocks and spits on our blurred faces. It does so by shouting gracelessly and awkwardly, charming and sinuous. In front of it, you can't hold back. Here we can break all limits with drumbeats, as once dared a suicidal moon... and give it a hard time. But now, when everything seems truly lost, when the air becomes a deadly knife, it seems to calm... no blinking, no echoes in the head. It is the true center: the Void.
And the Void has never been so thunderous in its inevitability, a monologue that assaults and aims at our throats, trembles in Chaos only to become a lurking blurred stain. But this was just a prelude, presenting to us he who will change our destinies, son of four pioneers of the gold rush era. Guinevere. Trust him: ten intense minutes are enough to surrender to his sonic embrace, leaving behind the delirious confusion of youth, exhausted by the ice's violence that cuts our cheeks anew. He cradles us with sweet and soft words, and we finally glimpse a pink moon in the sky, while the storm around us grows ever fainter until it becomes nothing but a vibration. We are out. Alive. But what has changed? The chest remains tight in a vice, and a slender flame still burns at the bottom of the wound. But now it's just a flame. Perhaps we have lost, but there couldn't be a sweeter defeat.
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
05 The Nerve Tattoo (04:02)
It’s just an itch beneath the skin
I can’t get it out or seal it in
I can’t dislodge the need to scratch it
screaming from it’s root
it’s an echo inside my head
a need to say what can’t be said
it’s the nerve tattoo,such a bad rash
spiteful and divine
but thats OK
it doesn’t matter anyway
it’s still those with the least to say
that will be heard...
ah,the elloquence of trash
the persuasiveness of cash
rings true like the whispered lies
of half-forgotten lullabyes;
designed to please ,
designed to soothe
designed to shift amillion units or two
designed to mean nothing at all
for anyone
but thats OK
it doesn’t matter anyway
it’s still those with the least to say
that will be heard...
it’s no misunderstanding
it’s all emptiness and words
I’d cut my veins to paint it as
beautifully meaningless-
picturesque and absurd
....it’s a masterpiece I heard
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Other reviews
By VortexSurfer
"Sinful, Wind-borne offers moments of such intensity that I remain motionless at every listen because nothing else needs to be done when everything is already there."
"Blissard is the kind of music that comes from the stomach, the immortal kind, the kind they made their own and that no one has ever managed to reproduce with the same poetry."
By zaireeka
I call this portal Blissard, perhaps everyone who knows it calls it Blissard.
The planet now reminds me of a renewed home, helps me not to forget where I came from.
By uno qualunque
"Sinful, Wind-Borne has an ingenious riff and a great impact."
"It's an album that slips into the ears without you even realizing it."
