Spleen and Dave Migman - Where All Tracks Lead

by Spleen and Dave Migman

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05:16
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08:25
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05:03
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about

This is second collaboration release from this two artists. It consists of five new songs and three bonus tracks.
Migman's poetry is fascinating, with Erebus's guitars and keyboards filled with despair this sound will take the listeners to another dimension of art.
They sure are contemporary artists that are making something that can be a new genre - modern requiem.

credits

released November 4, 2013

Dave Migman - poetry, voice
Erebus - musick

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about

Spleen Serbia

Spleen is music coming from the most secret and dark part of our soul that cannot be seen with the eyes - our primal nature! Dark ambient, experimental, drone musick is conjuring the occult hidden spheres of myself representing complete freedom when viewed from the highest plane of thought. Spleen is escape from the suffering of this world through aesthetic enjoyment, rejecting my humanity. ... more

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Track Name: Where All Tracks Lead
WHERE ALL TRACKS LEAD

There is a song with no body, there are words tapping like the legs of giant centipedes, straining through darkness. Each stride uncoils its segmented length, with a sound like a scrunched up paper bag. Crisp and dry.

I lay here and the muck of the past year is a patina on my skin, a dreariness clogs these veins. How did I allow this to happen?

I have been here too long. This infernal region where all creation ends. I have become deadened to wonder, lost in a two dimensional reality, seeking corners to bend myself in three.

An array of faces, the steeps of past tension, the parade of friends who could never make it, riddled by pressure, the alcoholic extent of their season; fallout, the burn is coming, you cannot last. I have been sent whirling down a corridor of horrors. I cannot see paradise, I never could. To long to be accepted. To reject. To project the self perceived persona I am not perceived as, to mirror those around me, to throw it back. I’m too dead inside now. No one else can carry my herald. It is a Spartan rag that beckons my ascension.

Will Captain Michalis stride down these sunny boulevards of Paleo Kastro? With his bull neck and his brown eyes, snorting, nostrils flaring like bubbles from a muddy puddle. Will he stride and blots out the flaming blaze? Will the storm gathered at his brow freeze me in my tracks?

Here, gathered at this northern port: Kaptara captured in the glowing sweep of Helios' crown. I am going to claw the grey from this tomb of flesh. Return what I surrendered at the shrine of compromise.

(sung)

if I was fused with blood
if I was a mannequin bound
would the moon hammer in my heart?
would the mountain draw me closer?

if I were a creature of instinct
if I were a cog in the fixture
would I strive to get out?
Would I feel so at odds?

there is fire and my words are nothing,
there is rain, my words gasp from me,
the night without a friend can crush me,
dreams are a breeze of myriad realms.

We are feeding through and fazing out.
The airwaves throng with mixed up electrons,
particles dance in waveform,
binding up these memories
we immerse ourselves in mortal transience
like the death dance of a fly, spiralling around the light,
vertiginous with the buzz of life,
too fucking blind and stupid to stop.

We shoot the dope, get too drunk, have unprotected sex,
drive too fast, extra cream and a fry up double size.
We can’t help ourselves,
we can’t control ourselves,
there is nothing holy can halt the madness,
only a sudden slip from grace
or the merciless trip
that signals a paradigm shift for us all.
Track Name: San (The Dream)
I have torn
bloody strips off the night
across the pale moon
across the livid memory
of her pale moons

on those nights, clear
from the terrace
he'd gaze out
spotting the bulk of the my
against the starlit
hide of serpents

somehow distant, somehow part
straining his eyes
as though to capture a shot
imprint the sensation
the moment
but like all moments
approximations

like all moments
we are no longer
here

you are the unwitting criminal
you have stolen something
precious

and, little wolf, i want it back
although you do not even know
what it is!

never on the edge of his tongue
the roof of the cavern
the skull housed edifice beyond
it

words never came so easily
in the company of vigorous mouths
these frantic parleys of memory
these anecdotes of egocentricity
made wood of his tongue

he had dined on every wound
cannibalised his every action
shaken bough, stem, root
he has shaken the earth
deep without knowing

the eel squirmed on the stones
lay peeled and bloody

we can only guess at the hours
only hint these abstractions
when wordage is sensitised
by the occasion of her crime
Track Name: Samadhi
Just to listen to the shimmering trees
no plans in mind
no real need to attempt
to reveal how yesterday
on the dry road i realised
that i am finding my gods
reflecting inner and outer
and that the great mother
is life itself

but here on the construct
follow geological with vegetal
all that is blooming regardless of time

she echoes through timeless
giantess of scale
womb within wombs
skin like the night
blessed with eyes
swollen with worlds
her face is a spiral
vortex of creation
her body is a serpent

curled around her lover
the dog-faced serpent
her other, the god
within and without
both pulsing and turning
give birth to universes
through chaos and order
the masculine, the feminine
in the boat of the sky
as witnessed by the ancients
with gut instinctive clarity
burn through the bridges
clear in the sky

Sweetness cupped in Destiny's mouth
a baklava of crushed pistachios
sodden with honey
dipped into your mouth

she hunts us through various guises
brushes hair gracefully
from the arch of her shoulder
she is a doe
a butterfly, a frog
she is astounding
and ugly
ungovernable, knowable
and still i seek her
despite my failings
(the mating star)

her name is Ishtar
her count is a singing mouth
of animate tongues
our dreams collide together

her previous manifestation
was the morrighan of pained
painful, madness undercover
a sweet veneer
of honey sodden kisses
promises that were the buboes
of her infection.

the thorns are hexadecimal mazes
pried by the hot of the pathfinders
a gentle rain of dung
mixes the thyme
the scent of these hills
deeper than the wound in her side
as she swings above the cross
the mountain tea
has some for your tongue
but driven here deeper
than stratas of quartzite
and crystal
glittering ancient jewels
the breeze that lifts my heart
Track Name: Leviathan
Time bears its weight upon him, in the gasp between each footfall,
the circle is waiting, like a deadly charm
it will circle

there, below, the ocean; each wave an upturned face eager to receive
the blessing of his impending extinction
some will grasp at his heels, others will trim wedges
from his sole/soul

they are mute witness to this show of shows
and what mighty opponents he has reckoned with:
the book of the law, and the circle of black crows

time pressing down
grinding its heel
slowly, ever so ever so…
in these gathered instants, the point
becomes the line
recedes back to point

you see, everything is now loaded with extreme poignancy,
never were the cobble stones so profound
would that they had been before

the sentence, a sentence, a barrage of words defining the parameters of his world:
to the blinkered walls of his cell, to the sentence, the sentence, hanging over him he shall…

that serpent shall strike
the breath from his throat
constrictor! foul abominator!
He shall feel the press of weight upon his shoulders
as the leviathan grinds him down

The clouds turn their faces
the sparrows turn to stare
the discarded toy is god itself
staring through those missing eyes

footfall on the platform
the knocking at the wood
the mannequins of doom are arranged
in regimentary fashion
their hollow faces of bitter lips
betray each shivering conscience

he will rise now
the serpent coiled
slack
its presence like a black hole
there is no going back

6 am
the serpent strikes
the pressing weight
the leviathan's bite
sinking down
to rise