THE WOUNDED KINGS The Shadow Over Atlantis (2010)
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
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The Wounded Kings
navigates the troubled waters, landscapes of a bloody past (generation of this) tragic, and gives the hearing one of the wonders of sound 2010 with The Shadow Over Atlantis , and cadaverous as original as their first effort, Embrace Of The Narrow House (2008) . This English band sounds certainly relatively close to Electric Wizard , and darker, more unhealthy, creating an atmosphere more unsettling in which we sucked, took to the senses. A clear voice captivating returned from beyond the grave, the Doom / Stoner resembling Psychedelic / Ambient bring a small block and short (just over 40 minutes to the last album) (without respite, relentlessly, we immersed the entire ample time); a universe in which we plunge into the abyss, we conveying to the depths of the malsainité human . Then enter the cave The Wounded Kings Anyway, we lost . The soil is imagination and we sail through the smoke in the middle of nowhere, defying gravity. Little by little, always clouded the vision, and it does leave us more, we discover a landscape sordid, dead trees, their sap dripping viscous yet, a few meters lower floor faded, worn, smell of a post-genocide . It also identifies yet, browsing the entity, planks of wood attacked by moisture, termites mutant; concrete melted and eroded by sewage, the centuries have performed their tasks to perfection, to the utter abjection, the peak of decadence, pourrissure absolute. The show is unique and grandiose lies before us remains plagued by death, behind a closed space open, walls covered with algae remains disproportionate blackish and yellowish as borders, as baptism beyond, we can feel the exhalation, emanation of volatile corpses which should more than survive the teething if we delve deep mud misty well. Sometimes, however, some remains of bones of one day living beings , is are seen, soiled by vultures and rodents, dragging here and there at the time of wrongdoing. We argue again and again without discontinuities, such as sleepwalking, sounds disturbing, captivating, that we can backtrack and we are fully owned.
Gently, we succumb to the lure of these steps creaking under the weight of a slight breeze and slowly penetrate the heart raw, empty, in this dreary house of crumbling wear which seems a considerable extent passed. This vast place of horror, we're going to permeate the atmosphere even more disgusting, dark. This wooded corridor sordid corroded sparingly, suggests that there have been sacrifices, willingly or unwillingly, and probably both. The steps discontinuous liquid acting chasm to the bowels, always deeper, the residence of the royal palace are clearly visible within seconds, but no trails lead through the point directly, we must suffer to be dead ...
The inventory is killing the souls could with the infamous ability to smell any gasoline. On our right , a large kitchen-style bloody appears in front of our minds now frozen with terror, we can read on the walls, the remains of hardened metal chairs, platform dissection of bodies, souls, infinite river of blood that was pouring, staining marking a tile devastated derusted at
cut with a knife. Sparkling with imagination of all that red, glowing eyes, burning like they were in heaven if they touched the sun , strikes down part of our thoughts, our being, lost forever, forever in the rubble of life
.
Then follows left and the huge living room, probably arriving to report the dining room still glowing body oils and various misfortunes, still warm, to the point. Inhalation is unbearable, causing anxiety, the fragrance exudes the time of infection, it is at the end with the contamination, gas, to the epidemic. How many bodies were lost here? How many suicides could he be? By what mechanisms? And murder ... This already exceeds understanding. We face the terrifying gloom to the foul instinct, the abject human race, full face, walls, light furniture in a state close to the State
decomposition is complete, it does there is more than cleaning residues, trimming. The bifurcation to the bathroom will attract little heaven at best traces of greenish blue in the middle of the fluid filling the bathtub rusty red. The search is optional. Shards of glass sparkling show our dismay our remains. The void in which we are staying alive set abyss, we weighed, the atmosphere unbearable nevertheless carries us beyond our consciousness, the sounds of chaos and plastered over the cracks of dirt takes us to loss of sight in this universe decadent, dislocating, subjugating. We keep a eternal echo.
Upstairs is also an option, just to push the boundaries for rampant, inert them will not, statistically
point, no need. The entrails approaches, the darkness obscured in opaque haze, to intense black, the gap appears, cuts into the descent, surely. The cellar, cemetery, overcrowding of dead bodies, the billions of teeth, and finally, the tomb is for us, we're here, we reach the ruins of time, this song, his voice rising in our beings, we voluntarily pushing more strictly dramatic. We traveled the unknown known biggest day, inspecting the space, royal, and hurt. Our bodies will dream again and again, this walk to clear moon, wandering forever clouded the path, contributing to its development in the afterlife, from beyond. Like a drug, we are bewitched, we can now do without.
. tee
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