Després de bastant de temps l'Albert Nadal, el Logan A_D i un servidor ens varem retrobar per a crear un projecte nou. Aquesta retrobada va donar llum a I AM THE ARCANE, un trio de "gothic doom metal" inspirat en les pel·lícules de terror i l'ambientació gòtica. D'aquest projecte va sortir Societas Arcana, un treball on encarnàvem una societat sectària i maligna d'aristòcrates dèspotes (vaja combinació!), amb atmosferes denses i tètriques, guitarres i baixos amb més cordes del normal, melodies dignes d'un funeral... Amb tots aquests temes compostos per mi vaig explorar la meva PART FOSCA (imagineu-vos ara rialles malèvoles...)
1. Arcane Society
Societat arcana. Introducció perfecta a la bogeria que vindrà més a baix. PREPAREU-VOS! ves a dalt
2. Oh Morpheus
Oh Morfeu, dóna'ns la teva saviesa! En aquest tema invoquem al deu del son Morfeu mitjançant algun sacrifici de "dubtosa legalitat". NO PROVEU DE FER-HO A CASA! ves a dalt
3. Her Ghost
"Vull que el fantasma de la meva dona m'acompanyi sempre". Encari que sembli romàntic, aquesta frase dita pel protagonista de la cançó no en té gaire de romanticisme... ESTEU AVISATS! ves a dalt
4. Venus Cut His Head Off
No us obsessioneu amb coses impossibles d'aconseguir... podeu acabar amb el COLL TALLAT! ves a dalt
5. Bibliophile
Fanàtics dels llibres. Filosofia, ciències, esoterisme, màgia... BIBLIÒFILS! ves a dalt
6. Astral Encounter
Vigileu per on viatgeu... us podeu trobar "COSES" NO DESITJADES! ves a dalt
7. It Owns Me
Realment esteu segurs que tot el que feu ho feu per iniciativa pròpia? Potser hi ha alguna cosa que US CONTROLA! ves a dalt
8. The Second Coming
La segona vinguda! Poema apocalíptic musicat del poeta W.B. Yeats. NINGÚ S'ESCAPARÀ! ves a dalt
“Take the volume, page 1 . . . 2 . . . 3.” “It says: with the appropriate substances, the soulless blood of a young woman may foster the conditions of the applicants for the contact.” “What about tonight, then?” “Sure! We may pick up a poor homeless girl this evening.” We have tried ever so hard. Years and years of keen research. For our deepest dreams to reach. Now we have the drugs, Target and the determination. We must make contact tonight! Knowledge is the goal. Morpheus, a daemon, Will reveal the deepest truths. The wine we shall drink, And travel far, But you, my girl, are going to die. We will ask some questions, Hoping they are heard, But you, poor girl, are going to die. In the dream realm may we wander. Now, we hold the knife – Our thirst soon to be quenched; The true power clutched in our hands. Our society Will envy us forever. May this night remain eternal! Knowledge is the goal. Morpheus, a daemon, Will reveal the deepest truths. The wine we shall drink, And travel far, But you, my girl, are going to die. We will ask some questions, Hoping they are heard, But you, poor girl, are going to die. Oh Morpheus, it seems I can see thy face . . . ves a dalt
Her Ghost
Before her grave, I cried So many times . . . But now. I see everything all too clear. Although she is gone, I’ve discovered how I can bring her back. I will etch the symbol on the marble. This magic can retain her soul. The light is not hers, I am. As long as I desire it, She will be near me. “But my destiny is not in your world anymore.” “Yes, I know.” “And you still want me to stay?” “Yes, I do.” My knowledge grants me A power that, one that I Have earned the right to use. You will, over time, Learn to love me again. And you will Tell me secrets. I’ve etched the symbol on the marble. This magic can retain your soul. The light is not yours, I am. As long as I desire it, You will be near me. I’ve etched the symbol on the marble. This magic can retain her soul. The light is not hers, I am. As long as I desire it, She will be near me. ves a dalt
Venus Cut His Head Off
There was a time When he was free. He looked at planets, And bigger he did feel. But when, the vision appeared Afore his eyes, The enormous bright sphere Collapsed his mind. Venus cut his head off. There was a time He was free. The stardust caressing his face, He had no limits. But when the spell By Venus was cast, He lost his head. He fell at last. Oh, when the skies Are dotted with stars, He looks at Venus – Gazing the entire time. Oh, those bright spheres Are full of lies. He’ll die and he’ll never Ever get a guide. Venus cut his head off. ves a dalt
Bibliophile
Time to bury ourselves. Being a bibliophile is more Is a fine love affair. Obsessive. Our hunger is never to be fed. Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses, Clavicula Salomonis, The Book of Honorius, The Magus, Dragon Rouge. Bibliophile. Bibliophile. The world is our school. Unlimited knowledge is for those who break the rules. It’s time to choose. Our hunger will never be fed. Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Metaphysics, The Republic, Das Kapital, Leviathan, Being and Time. Tao Te King, I Ching, The Bhagavad Gita, The Art Of War, Siddhartha, Hagakure, Bushido. Bibliophile. Bibliophile. The Origin of Species, Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica, …The Two Chief World Systems. De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium, Relativity, Physica, De Humani Corporis Fabrica. An nescis, mi fili, quantilla prudentia mundus regatur? Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo. The possibilities, countless. Our hunger insatiable. ves a dalt
It Owns Me
What the human eye sees Is in no way complete. Lucid dreaming is what truly shows us A longer and deeper reality. But sometimes, in our projections, We do have unexpected meetings. They sneak up imperceptibly, And you can also bring those things back with you. Its head is a coyote skull – a stature it has of two men, A huge tunic on its bones, its nails, oh so long. It owns me, and it moves my mouth. It owns me, and it moves my arms. It tries to be alive, And it drives me insane. The voices order me to slay them all, Even though they are my comrades. Morbid visions of everyone, All without their eyes and their tongues. “Eat their flesh,” it tells me, “I need flesh, I need flesh!” It owns me, and it moves my mouth. It owns me, and it moves my arms. It owns me, and it leads my actions. It owns me, and it speaks of odd things. It tries to be alive, And it drives me insane. It owns me, and it moves my mouth. It owns me, and it moves my arms. It owns me, and it leads my actions. It owns me, and it speaks of odd things. Sometimes, I feel like an automaton. Sometimes, I am filled with power. Sometimes, I hate the force that’s behind. Sometimes, I love it to the core. It tries to be alive, And it drives me insane. It tries to pervert me, And it makes me smile. ves a dalt
The Second Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? - 1919, W. B. Yeats ves a dalt
