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Раритет времен расцвета всяческой гётеборгщины, упакованный в симпатичный "конверт", в оформлении которого безошибочно угадывается рука Кристиана Валина (см. также кавер-арты Tiamat, At The Gates, Emperor, Dissection, Lake Of Tears etc.). В содержимом альбома так же безошибочно угадывается мелодичный дэт образца средины девяностых в духе работ Eucharist, Unanimated, да и тех же ранних In Flames (в большей) и Dark Tranquillity (в меньшей, соответственно, степени). На групповой фотографии же - дабы не повторяться, давайте обзовем это, например, "непогрешимо опознается" - будущий ударник "Пламенных" Даниэль Свенссон, переметнувшийся в стан главных гётеборгских позеров (согласно рейтингу* Haters Top 100) уже в 1998-м году. Последнее, в общем-то, и привело к крайне неприятным последствиям: впадению Sacrilege в кому, длившуюся восемь долгих лет, и добавлению к имени группы дурацкой аббревиатуры GBG после пробуждения. Заметим, что в рамках "родного" коллектива Свенссон еще и занимает вакансию вокалиста - достаточно добротно скримит, опять же, в полном соответствии с традициями школы. Что же до музыки, которую он "озвучивает"... Откровенно сложно найти здесь хоть какие-нибудь значительные открытия или нововведения, но эти парни все же умели производить должный эффект хотя бы старательностью. Впрочем, то, что по тем временам было "хотя бы", в эпоху, когда большинство исполнителей радостно забивает альбомы порожняком, сочинив хотя бы тройку потенциальных хитов и равномерно - в лучшем случае - разбросав их по пространству полноформатника, действительно вдохновляет. Яркую индивидуальность каждой здешней композиции может подпортить разве что характерный шустрый ударный ритм, проходящий через "Пятое время года" штрих-пунктирной линией. Уже заметна и определенная поддержка клавишных и "чистых" струн (прежде всего в паре обязательных инструментальных композиций - "Fifth Season" и "Sorg"), впечатляет доля по-настоящему хуковых мелодий, да и без риффов практически образца "Металлика'91" не обходится ("Sweet Moment of Triumph"); но все же это пока еще дэт-металлическая работа на эдакой тонкой грани, практически пресловутое переходное звено в цепочке музыкальной эволюции. Добавьте "лирики" - получите нечто сродни "Whoracle", а там и до "Colony" рукой подать. Поддайте "жести" - и мы уже в сферах Dismember'овской злости, а то и чего посуровей. Это самое "посуровей", кстати, вполне можно представить по наиболее злобной здесь "In Winter Enticed", укрепленной не особенно-то привечаемыми в Швеции бласт-битами.
Кстати, в контексте упомянутого инфлеймсовского одногодка нелишне обратить внимание на ту самую инструментальную концовку: до чего мечтательна и воздушна она у "Пламенных," и сколь неожиданно обреченна и пессимистична у Sacrilege. А уж финал каков! Крушение, коллапс, катастрофа. Грешно судить о целой работе по каким-то тридцати секундам чистого шума, но последнее впечатление - оно ведь самое сильное, и в случае "The Fifth Season" вроде бы свидетельствовало о стремлении сохранить в своих жилах яд скандинавских дэтовых первопроходцев. Впрочем, нафантазировать тут можно все, что угодно, хоть "последних честных гётеборжцев нашего времени". На деле же имеем добротный, и даже сверх того, коллектив в прошлом, и недееспособный его вариант времени нынешнего. Солгал бы, причислив "The Fifth Season" к ряду сокровищ музыкальной культуры или хотя бы охарактеризовав его как релиз влиятельный. Но ни капли не навру, назвав эту работу талантливой и обаятельно искренней, во многом благодаря милым сердцу "пещерным" музыкальным анахронизмам, в самом каменном естестве которых сумели вырастить цветки столь узнаваемых мелодий, на основе которых другие умудрятся вырастить уже целый сад сугубо мейнстримовых удовольствий. Столь навязчиво благоухающий сад, что из него порой хочется бежать куда подальше - да вот хотя бы к тем же строгим и красивым цветам, растущим на скалах...
*естественно, вымышленному. |
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Summon the masses and walk through the fire
Through hypnotic flames of a funeral pyre
Driven by lashes from the hands of a liar
they enter the flames that has built his empire
Enslaved and weak I worship thee
you are my master you made me meek
A witness to an act of macabre obscenities
standing surrounded by a crowd of imbecility
Their hope it has left they realize they've failed
soon they'll be crawling the path of the nailed
Enslaved and weak I worship thee
you are my master you made me meek
Summon the masses and walk through the fire
Through hypnotic flames of a funeral pyre
Driven by the lashes of a liar
they enter the flames that has built his empire
The symbol of light will serve as my knife
to slit my veins and let out my life
to release my cage trapped soul
Emptied on fluid my shell goes cold
As he wandered in silverly halls among silent marbles,
enigmatic sculptures each with different tales to tell,
he touched their hard faces yet soft
like the mist over a sleeping sea
Their beauty and sorrow was feeding his superior soul
Through a heart of stone no blood will flow,
to cleanse the evil cold as snow
Oh pitiful earth that me inherited
Visions of peace crushed to dust
Without compassion he absored their auras
for his strength to gain,
nor did he feel for the souls he drained
In hysteria screaming...Triumph oh glorious state of mind
With the silent ones gathered the powers combined
No words will break the shells as they broke them
Fear won't shatter the walls as it shattered them
Through the heart of stone no blood will flow,
to cleanse the evil cold as snow
Without compassion he absored their auras
for his strength to gain,
nor did he feel for the souls he drained
In hysteria screaming...Triumph oh glorious state of mind
With the silent ones gathered the powers combined
Through the heart of stone no blood will flow,
to cleanse the evil cold as snow
I've disarmed the weak for the lies to show
I've fought without mercy I've slain with my sword
I've stricken upon the ones who seek
and blood ahs been shed from the souls so meek
For my paradise was burned and my visions encaged
Soulless and dying, a slave to my rage
I've beared the relic for the stars to touch,
to envy the gods and cut through the skies
I've embraced what disgusts me from behind my facade,
completing the task from behind my mask
For my paradise was burned and my visions encaged
Soulless and dying, a shame to my race
Fear is the strongest dictator, ruler and king of all when set free
Infected me with this strange disease
Heartbroken fallen apart
Who will help me blind them,
nine eyes of twilight don't fail to see
With whom shall I put the observing to rest
With whom tell me...
Nine eyes of dreaded twilight, drain me my might
Nine eyes of dreaded twilight, feed on my fright
I'm the monsters in the seas you sail
I'm the torment in your mind so frail
I'm the plague that ravage your lands,
salvation out of hand
For my paradise was burned and my visions encaged
Soulless and dying, a slave to my rage
Fear is the strongest dictator, ruler and king of all when set free
Infected me with this strange disease
Heartbroken fallen apart
Who will help me blind them,
nine eyes of twilight don't fail to see
With whom shall I put the observing to rest
With whom tell me...
Nine eyes of dreaded twilight, drain me my might
Nine eyes of dreaded twilight, feed on my fright
Dictator of the worshipped sky,
risen from her velvet grave
Encaged in the artwork drawn by the mad
Dethroned, enslaved
She descended from scarlet heavens
filled with splendour and pride
Unknowing of her grievous future
more malign than the plague
She fell through the silence,
enwrapped in an arch of blood
Slowly towards the greedy horizon,
prepared to feast on her light
Fenceless and abandoned, enfeebled by time
Captured and devoured, entangled and drowned
She fell through the silence,
enwrapped in an arch of blood
Slowly towards the greedy horizon,
prepared to feast on her light
The terrifying last painting of a world in fright
A single piece of a great collection
Decorating the walls of the ultimate gallery,
a gallery of nefarious art
She descended...
She fell through the silence...
Burn the bleeding,
enter the exploding winter, feed the cold
Tomorrow waits me at my gates
while all my yesterdays swarm near
And one mouth whines, too late,
too late and one is dumb with fear
Was this the all that life could give
Me, who from cradle hungered on,
body and soul aflame to live,
giving my all and then be gone
Have done with moaning, idiot heart
if it so be that love has wings,
I with my shears will find an art
to still her flutterings
Wrench of that bandage to will I
and show the wimp she's blind indeed
Hot irons shall prove my mastery
She shall not weep but bleed
And when at last I journey where,
all thought of you I must resign
Will the least memory of me be fair
or will you even my ghost malign
I wake and watch when the moon is here,
a shadow tracks me on
And I, darker than my shadow,
fear her fabulous inconsistency
Have done with moaning, idiot heart
if it so be that love has wings,
I with my shears will find an art
to still her flutterings
Your maddening face befools my eyes
Your hand I wake to feel
Lost in deep midnight's black surmise
its touch my veins congeal
And when at last I journey where,
all thought of you I must resign
Will the least memory of me be fair
or will you even my ghost malign
Farewell repulsive earth upon which I've wandered
Nevermore your grandeur I shall behold
Farewell, farewell oh sun and moon
A new age entered enchanted by its gloom
My bloodstained path concealed by lies
Deceit's door stood wide open and I entered
Welcome, welcome bearer of that midnight lamp
Enter the gates that I for you have unsealed
My bloodstained path concealed by lies
Deceit's door stood wide open and I entered
Lead me, oh frequent dreams of midnight hour
Guide me, to the night's shelter
My midnight lamp burn dim with shame
In heaven the moon is low
Betraying sharer of its secret flame arise and go
Dragging my feet through the heavy mist
Silent whispers from vague shapes emerged,
broke loose and howled
My midnight lamp burn dim with shame
In heaven the moon is low
Betraying sharer of its secret flame arise and go
Lead me, oh frequent dreams of midnight hour
Guide me, to the night's shelter
Come precious daybreak
Deliver me from the claws of merciless sleep
In this the dream I dreamt before
That's awaken me sore
Rise, angel of night, in glamorous pride
and spread thy polluted wings
Destroy the fundamental conditions
for our existence beneath contempt
Feed me with thy blissful tears,
seduce me in nocturnal rapture
Oh, mannequin of darkness you are my immortal
Penetration in festering flesh so pale
Accompanied by orgiastic screams of ail
Together as one we deceiver the light
a sulphurous triumph for our despite
The souls that were lost will be missed by none
United in an act of endless pleasure
a sinful play of perversity
we enter the secret lotusland
where light's forever banned
Penetration in festering flesh so pale
Accompanied by orgiastic screams of ail
Together as one we deceiver the light
a sulphurous triumph for our despite
She arrived in the coldest of winters,
to a slumbering world so white
Naked she came and with eyes so blue,
a monument of beauty she was
The white covered world was peaceful
and she arrived like the mist before dawn
A dreamlike shadeless goddess raised by the frost in the north
But behind her mask of glimmering goodness
a wicked smile appeared
A symbol of darkness in disguise
sent to haunt the light
She grabbed her sword and rode out in the night
to entice all the living and ravish their lives
Her voice was filled with tenderness
as it echoed throughout the land
Her concupiscence was strong
and lured creatures to their graves
Her heart was made of stone
she was starving for the dead
When day had passes and turned into night
she captured god's angels and fed on their fright
The land she had conquered laid empty and cold
Exhausted with grief their souls were sold
She ripped her mask of glimmering goodness
to unveil her blackened soul
A symbol of darkness in disgust
sent to crush the light
She grabbed her sword and rode out in the night
to entice all the living and ravish their lives
Her voice was filled with tenderness
as it echoed throughout the land
Her concupiscence was strong...
What peace for me in a star or moon
What solace in nightingale
They tell me of the lost and gone
and dawn completes the tale