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Βία; Ναι
Σεξ; Όχι
Αριθμός Λέξεων: (
Σχόλια: True black metal meets mouth of madness
Shrill cries ascent
Towards the burning heaven
As Hellfires burn
The Christian brethren
Shrieked Asmorag. Tenebraum dropped the tempo to a crawling beat, as Demonized started playing a slow guitar solo.
A cosmic cacophony
A soundtrack to Armageddon
Rasped Asmorag, while the final notes of the final track of Sun of Eschaton's final album were recorded. The three men, faces painted white, their outfits black leather and decorated with tons of spikes, let down their organs and went to the console.
"Well, it is done," said Tenebraum. He was tall, bulky and the one overlooking the production. Overlooking being an overstatement, since the only thing he did was pressing play and stop during the recordings. The sonic ugliness that was their music did not need any frilly production. This was for the fake ones. The sound should be as ugly as the mood. And when talking about Armageddon, well, it should be as ugly as it gets.
Demonized took the tape and put a label on it. He then put it in an envelope and wrote an address on it. "Time to send our message to the world," he said. The recording was about to be sent to Plague Death Records, their recording company.
As soon as the parcel was posted, the band gathered back to their garage-come-studio. There was something else they should do. They had been together for six years, started as three high school kids imitating their favourite artists, recorded two demos, then signed a contract in an indy label for their debut record and finally signed for Plague Death, one of the top underground extreme metal firms. Their EP "The Bloody Feast" had been the talk of the underground scene for awhile.
It had also been the threshold to the moment of clarity that led to the recording of their current project. They locked all the doors and the windows, then stood at the center of the room. Asmorag, his short thin body tense, his shaved head glistering with sweat, Demonized relaxed and Tenebraum anxious. The gas container was in their midst.
Joining hands on its handle, they turned it, the flammable gas hissing out of the container and into the room. Demonized and Asmorag picked up their guitar and bass respectively and Tenebraum sat behind his drums. Their faces shared a mad mocking expression.
The first notes, if one could describe the noise they played as notes, of Sign 1: The Sacrifice Opening the Gates of Hell, the opening track of their new album.
As I burn in flames of Hell my legacy of hate remains
The mocking voices of christian sheep shall turn to cries of pain
Rasped Asmorag, over a superfast sonic assault of eerie guitar riffs and pounding drums
I offer myself as sacrificial black lamb
As it foretold the message
A black prophet in the skin of man
Offered me a key to wreckage
Growled Demonized. The man, if they should call Him man, has told them what they must do, how they would become the prophets of the Apocalypse.
Death of the sheep of Nazarene
Unholy reign of Satan
The Hell armies do proceed
Slaughter the kin of Adam
Rasped Asmorag, his throat hurting. The gas was choking him, choking them, but it was the only way.
Self sacrificed I am led to Hell's unholy realm
Yet I leave a message of signs sidereal
He was croaking with all the life still in his soon-to-be-empty husk called body. But only through ritual sacrifice would the audience be piqued to listen to their message. The man had told them so.
The Gates open as me heart stops its unholy beating
Soon the army of the damned shall make man weeping
His voice was far croakier than it should be. He was dying soon, he knew that. Tenebraum was unconscious by now and Demonized was barely standing. It was their price to pay. The news would spread fast: A band killed themselves. Everybody would just die to listen to their album. They would hear the message they prophesize. And then all Hell would break loose. Literally.
To all of you who hear this prophecy of endings
Go out and feast free of sin cause Armageddon's coming
Demonized was down, barely breathing. Asmorag was still standing, plucking at the chords of his bass and trying to remain conscious to finish the song. The man had told them: those who listen to the album would:
Unleash the beast within to open up the gates
Become an army of the wolves slaughtering all the cattle
Rejoice as holy blood is shed upon the burning altars
For Armageddon is coming fast its soundtrack you shall hear.
Finishing the song he passed out, crossing the threshold to the oblivion of death.
***
On the news:
The crowed is shocked by the atrocious mass slaughter in a restaurant performed by a group of teenager last night. The victims, numbering thirty and including small children, were killed, mutilated, sexually abused even post mortem and cannibalized. The victims claimed that they were influenced by the music of a band that killed themselves three months ago. They claim that Armageddon is coming.
Right now, in the background you can listen to the band, called Sun of Eschaton. I did earlier this day
The reporter turns the camera the other way. What it shows is a mutilated corpse.
Now I know the truth. Armageddon is coming. We shall die. We shall burn in Hell. So let us enjoy the bestial rapture of the End Times…
This post has been edited by Nihilio: 16 September 2005 - 00:43
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