Old Night – A Fracture In The Human Soul
Label: Rain Without End Records
As Satan in Milton’s Paradise Lost struggles through the turmoil of chaos until he approaches the coast of darkness bordering upon the light, Old Night drifts into the darkest corners of the human mind thus creating new sound landscapes with their inimitable music of their sophomore release entitled “A Fracture In The Human Soul”.
In the first episode called “Pale Cold Irrelevance“, my dear colleague focused on the formation of the band and its influences. It’s clear to everyone that these guys are playing magnificently, so I’ll dive a little deeper under the cover. Isn’t that the point of the album?
The topics are lyrically very similar but you can’t fail to notice that this is a more mature follow-up. This time, the author doesn’t jump from topic to topic and the album has its natural flow which draws you into some kind of a parallel story with the very first tones.
These atmospheric songs have taken me back to the time of suppressed emotions. This was the time when I could tell you how a gramophone or a laser jet worked. And yet about people I couldn’t claim the same. If you don’t read from the eyes, hands, body, you must read some other maps, otherwise you are doomed. In those years, when you don’t really know anything but still have high expectations out of everything, I have collected passages of some mystical theories, pieces of someone else’s knowledge that created a new picture. Maybe right, maybe not, but strong beliefs make everything right. I have learned how some neglected areas of gray matter can be opened like antennas and then made to vibrate in the rhythm of ether. Slowly, I became quite good, actually good enough that I could feel The Solitude before it decides to come for a coffee.
No, I didn’t look for some fortune-telling in a cup of coffee. Damn, it was much more serious! Because before they explained to me that it was impossible, I had a relationship with Nothing. So, don’t laugh! When someone you care about takes his own life, it all happens too soon, you have to explain it to yourself somehow. Right?
December began and it was so cold as only it can be in my hometown. I sat on the bench up by the window and his place beside me was empty. I knew only that everything was finally and definitely wrong. When death comes, when the dragon opens his wings in the sky, wood mouses no longer find their holes, no one belongs to anyone, and no grain is sweet because above everything is The Shadow.
One more thing made me stumble: the professors suddenly became kind, compassionate, especially those who weren’t, and for that goodness that was shared undeserved, we all expected something bad. Those who grew up in our region in the early 90s instinctively have learned how to recognize emotional trade: good when is bad, bad when is good, to keep everything in balance like you believe that good and evil exist, under control and that nobody stands out. As a religion, but enforced. As heaven and hell, but by decree. And that final decree was written.
Maybe it was the sixth, maybe seventh of December. I don’t know, I was studying until just before midnight, I turned off the lights and went to the window to lower the shutter before I went to sleep. The snow has fallen. One building to the left, the second to the right and the cemetery between. The night was clear and extremely quiet. In the sky beneath me, the stars were so bright and candles flashed in the windows of the House of the Blind. Maybe someone will come back tonight.
I knew, I leaned my nose against the window, stared at the bright point of one of the quiet flickers across the street and set off with one of aforementioned knowledge. I wanted to hear something about his return. I began to narrow the consciousness, to have only one word left in it: The Return.
So one more time please break your heart with mine
No matter which path you choose, ours will always entwine
Amongst the stalactites of our ideas many dragons are sleeping that we are unaware of. When it comes to narrowing the consciousness, the cave is flattening, those stalactites disappear and dragons no longer have anything to hold on to. They are resisting, they are moving like a clock but they always end up captured in time. Tick-tock! In the rhythm of the music, they finally fly out of consciousness. When they rush out and pressure in the brain’s cave is assimilated with the environment, then man and ether come to the same frequency, at the same amplitude. Only then might come The Answer.
Weak is the flesh and fragile is the mind
Our time on Earth is measured by the world we leave behind
First flew those little ordinary things. Movies and books. Small quarrels. Sympathies. Accidentally discovered secrets. Then, one by one, it started to get bigger. That secret love, delayed, needed by someone, wasted and if it had been spoken, it would surely have been misunderstood. The huge dragon has long been scratched on the stone vault, resisting, fighting and finally rushed out. Desire that all ends well fluttered in the brain, but unconsciously shadows of stalactites were indicated at the ceiling, as false illusions of opportunities, but all this had to be out if I wanted the answer. In the end, it came out.
With a misty eye, a heartfelt smile
Awaiting the final dusk
And then it happened. Slowly, out of nowhere, the old black woman appeared behind the corner of the left building. (I know, I saw the video too, but how do you imagine that Death comes for you?) She walked slowly and unsteadily… I guess because of the ice? If Old Black Women Who Walk Around Midnight have problems with the ice? Halfway between two buildings, above the old woman, a dark shadow of a big bird appeared, slowed down the flight, dropped over her head in a black scarf and then flew out. During the quiet night, the wind blew strong and shut down a few flickers on the cemetery. Among others, the one on which I was concentrated and the one that was the clearest. The old woman disappeared. I know it wasn’t a dream, and the years that followed didn’t tell the whole story, because three nights after that I wrote it all in my diary. And because I remember everything, just as you remember dreads and horrors.
Maybe that was the answer to someone else, someone on another window, to someone else’s question. Maybe it was only sad (but the most beautiful solo I have heard in recent times) at 24:25 that we all live, but it sounded like a wonderful finale. Instead of the answer I have been looking for, I have something quite devilish. Anyway, I accepted it as an answer. So, do I only have myself to blame for what happened? Are we all to blame ourselves for the death of our close ones? Is there a way to put our hands around the flames of life in the wind and protect them from extinction? I don’t know…
At the very bottom
Of that endless sorrow
Lay the remains of your heart and soul
The professors grabbed us by the hand and approached the material world, explained that telekinesis is fiction and that things are moved only by the muscles. Maybe because they had muscles. Most people always accept that idea. It’s easier. Some won’t agree, at least not completely. I belong to those who will keep the door open and who won’t be surprised if they will be visited by the constellations of atoms that modern physics books usually don’t describe. And when some strange people, who occasionally meet me, draw a python who swallowed an elephant, I never tell them that is a hat. But after that night, scared, disgusted, frustrated… I left all this strange knowledge. I can’t remember what I was doing. Nothing. I think.
The truth is the hardest to face
It is excuses we are seeking now
To avoid calling this “the end”
When love becomes a fading echo
Of a distant memory
The reaping of hearts is at hand
Many winters have passed before the one in which I again ran into the code of the darkness. And I have to notice, there aren’t enough songs, much less music that escort fear, anxiety or mysticism…
I’m trying to say that “A Fracture In The Human Soul” is only for those who are looking for something more in music and who refuse to be typical metaheads of pompous label-imposed artists. This album is for those who refuse to stay in the box and who can recognize what is worth.
Maybe we are all screwed up under the masks but at the end of the day we have music which keeps us together because nobody wants to talk about their parallel lives. Everyone has their circles in the snow, and this life isn’t the Olympics to be overwhelmed. It isn’t important to participate. Even less to win. But hey, what is your story?