A Starved Horror

It's been a while since the last update, but frankly, life was kinda tough and busy and so I forgot. The lack of push notifications and people screaming for the contest apparently means that no one wanted to enter anyways, so that's cool.

Good times! The "A Chosen Hollow" split with STARVE is due in the next weeks, but you can already listen to the entire record via our good friends at LURKER. You can see glimpses of the artwork there, but just wait until you see the full package as designed by Mirko Meerwaldt and our own Richard.

There will be 250 records on black vinyl and 50 on coloured, with a gatefold cover, all courtesy of Badger.

With a bit of luck, our releaseparty will be the 20th of January in Leiden, where Starve and we will be joined by Feast (Walls of noise, bludgeoning riffs) and Snowburn er with their first performance. But since these guys are local heroes and old-time friends, only good can come from it.

After that we have two shows left, one in Leeds, where we'll join our mates in
Wizard's Beard for their release party, and before that we'll play Arnhem with STARVE and Richard and the Suffering Koalas.

After that, we'll try to finish writing the rest of the songs for the full-length, due recording around June/July, and we'll see where that'll be released. Two of the songs are finished, a third is nearly done, and with two more added (perhaps) we think it's a decent length.

In Summer, we want to tour the east of Europe at least, and at the end of the year, tentative plans are being conceived to cross the ocean. But let's get that record done first.

I'll leave you with the text to our half of the split.


A Chosen Hollow pt. IV

All hell is suggested by a spark
encroaching vapour, engulfing dark
Tendrils of clotted ends, snatching with claws
what void this silence, this absence of laws

Coeval sunsets, enthralling shimmers
of an abyssal recluse, a chosen hollow
Pale skies shatter, living dust of the dead
The burrowing race into Limbo followed

I would carve my own ruin
out of men of straw, lumps of dirt
I was abomination, I was cowered flight
I was the chosen few, I embodied night.

Heartbeats thumping feeble goodbyes
A muted waving to shimmering skies
Enthralled by darkness, accepting the nill

Spiritual silence, talpaedic will.

All truth is suggested by this light
Our entropic insight, a hubristic rite
Mirage of distance now scattered in time
Transgressing the separate, primordial crime.

I speak a world of words in reverse
Closing the paths that my blood has traversed
I discard all loyalty to urge and intent
My venom is utterly spent.

An arena of liars, they welcome the flood
A tradition of tongues, of throats bred to rot
Eyelids shut hard against summoning skies
Their waters run shallow, the dead drown their prize.

Obverse and reverse sides of a coin, simulacra forged
man-made resemblance in the profoundness of Erebus' glare
A labyrinth that consists of a single straight line, invisible, endless.
“My flesh may feel fear; I myself do not.” Mine own cross to bear.

I allow the days to forget me.

All transience is reflected in this sudden end
Fire in the folds of the living pit’s descent
Where mourners glory in their escape from the fates
Drunk on their names reap kleos at death’s gates

Death of the spirit, not of the heart
Suffocating rigour rids the palate of doubt
The one ipse dixit in our surroundings dank
is the clasp of the herd, the writ of without.