Enclosure in Flame

9. Enclosure In Flame

Of time that we rode
Darkest vows seal my woe
I was seen in your head
The waste flew from
Our throats - desires
Fate is low - bleed
My eye - heal my stone
I will open a door
And bleed in your dreams
Silently praying for
Enclosure within the
Flame of origin

Sometimes I truly feel like I have problems expressing myself without accompaniment. Music is always the answer because it can be so expressive; every note, every crash, rise, fall, every beat or note can convey something completely different. Listen to this song.

No, I don't mean put it on and go do dishes, or flip through the TV or read a book. I mean listen to the song. Turn the lights off, close your eyes, turn it up and let it engulf you. Music is emotion, it is lifeblood. There is no hatred in this song, what it is, what this song is is the end-cap to the soundtrack to the apocalypse. Don't blind yourself and assume that it is full of hate or vengeance, there is so much more to it, layer upon layer. Through Silver in Blood is bar none my favorite album of all time.

I can't possibly begin to explain myself sometimes, and wish people would just listen to fucking Locust Star or Aeon and 'get it.' TSIB is a journey, and 'Enclosure in Flame' is realization, it is a solemn optimism as well as acceptance. It is the main themes from the album, only slowed down, fleshed out, revisited one last time before the last few notes of the guitar slow down, fade out and dissipate into nothing. It is power. It is understanding.

Whenever I hear this song, after the whole ride Neurosis takes you on, the only thing that I can think of is that no matter how brutal it is, no matter what dark places it takes you, it leaves you wherever you want to be, it lets you decide. Does the understanding tone seem foreboding to you? Does the slow, droning, sludgey tone scare you for what could possibly come next? Or do you hear what I hear? Do you hear emerging from a dark place, seeing the sun, not knowing what the fuck is next, but understanding that at this very moment you control it, no matter how scary that is.

I'm an addict.

Reflection.

It was almost like you could feel him regaining consciousness, sense him feeling the warm trickle of blood drip down his face and into his eyes, stinging as it slides its way down. His leg is hurt, you can tell by the way he picks himself up, doing his best to not put much pressure on his left leg, grasping on his way up for anything to catch a hold of, but only finding dirt, rocks and rough, dying bushes around him for support, or lack thereof.

His face was rough, blood caked on, fresh blood trickling over it and his hair a mess, accenting the bags under his eyes. His face was warped and was, for the longest time my definition of violence. Maybe it wasn't the malice in his eyes, the open wounds or pouring blood as much as it was the indifference of the cars whizzing by him that struck me with fear. Regardless of the shape he was in, something was clearly horribly wrong. Something is horribly wrong.

Maybe it wasn't malice in his eyes and just pain, just that the blood, the bags and the pain all reflected that made that strong impression, but the reality and gravity associated with a man on the side of the road beaten and battered without anyone giving a second glance. Whatever it was, the malice was so real and was so thick that it was marring the air around me, each breath I was taking feeling like it was taxing my heart to its fullest. He staggered out into the road, a car putting on its turn signal and switching lanes seemlessly, to avoid both hitting him and engaging him, instead leaving him at the mercy of the next wave of cars, all doing the same, this time a different lane.

The median tripped him up, his body crashing like a wave, face first into the dirt -- narrowly missing a rock. Just when I felt that my breathing couldn't grow more erratic, the closer he gets the heavier the world feels on me. As he picks himself up again you can see the pained look and just how heavy this all is weighing upon him. I want to move back, to turn around and run away, but I'm frozen in place by the sight of him, and the world flying by like he isn't there.

His composure somewhat regained, he lurches forward, stumbling over a rock, but staying on his feet. It is at this point that his eyes raise and lock with mine. I'm locked into his trance now, not able to look away or as much as blink. An overwhelming sense of both fear and comfort has washed over me as step-by-step he comes closer and closer.

The injured left leg drags behind him slightly, the foot at an inhuman angle to match the vacant look in his eyes. Cars are whizzing by behind him still, but the road between him and me feels like an empty two-dimensional plane. His form just keeps growing and growing as he moves closer to me, there is no moving right or left, its just straight through to me.

I can smell the breath and the burnt, rotting flesh now; it is overwhelming at first, but I can't stand to cough, gasp or look away. He keeps sliding towards me, blood trickling down his face, seeping into the crevices on his face and highlighting his already-defined features. My heartbeat quickens and my breathing grows more and more erratic as he grows closer. My legs feel like they are just dead weight now, bolted into the sidewalk I stand on. I can't hear a thing outside of his heavy breathing, or the gurgling sound of the blood in his throat. He stops for a second to spit out some of the blood and wipe it from his face, leaving streaks across the side of his face and neck. He reaches out for me with his bloody hand, stumbling forward letting out a gasp as a car horn quickly fades in, is interrupted by a loud thud and a smash before it fades out, the man now laying on the ground not moving, his body pushed 10 feet back.

If he wasn't dead yet, he was now, but I'm not sure anybody but me knew he existed.

Romance in the key of Z

"C'mon," Jeff pumps his fist into a downed man's face, the man tattered, torn, rotting. "One of you fuckers has to have a ring on you -- Pete!" He looks around, dropping the man, still convulsing, hissing and grabbing towards him, taking a hold of his foot. Jeff pulls only to see the man's mouth, bile dripping from it, coming towards his heel. "Oh, you fucker. No ring, but you sure can bite." In one swift motion he pulls out a handgun and unloads a bullet into the back of his head; twitching again, bile leaking out of his head and finally letting go. "Pete!"

"Shit.. Jeff... Jeff, I think that we have a problem," Pete calls over to him, hunched over next to a tree, a small pile of bodies surrounding him, and blood trickling from his right bicep. His breath is growing heavy as he tries to pull himself up using his gun as a can, only for Jeff to place his boot onto his chest, pushing him back against the tree, gun falling from his hand.

"You didn't get -- Jesus, Pete!" He points his gun at his arm, waving it around as a cigar hangs from his mouth. "You got fuckin' bitten! Reckless mo'fucker..."

"Don't get any ideas, man," Pete starts to hyperventilate, reaching for his gun. "It ain't like that, it ain't like THAT!"

"Did'ja get a ring?" He pushes his boot tighter against Pete's chest, as blood oozes from his arm, Pete's eyes beginning to look heavy, yellow beginning to appear around his eyes. Jeff leans in close, blowing a puff of smoke into his face, looking down at the bite, "because man, that bite don't look pretty."

"It ain't pretty man," he writhes in pain, his skin yellowing more and more, the life seemingly draining from him. "It ain't pretty at all, but I know how it..."

"Ring?" Jeff smiles, cigar in between his thumb and middle finger of his free hand, index finger tapping away the ash, it fluttering onto Pete's wound, ash melting away into the red-turning-black blood oozing out of him.

"Man, I got problems beyond that -- look at my fuckin' arm, man! Hey, hey, hey," he reaches his hand up and points behind Jeff as a snarl and a hiss comes from behind him, a hand reaching towards Jeff's shoulder, only for him to flick the cigar into Pete's lap, grab a hold of the hand and whip the whole body of another decaying, mangled person onto Pete, this time a woman. Jeff glares down at the hand to see a shiny diamond glaring back at him.

"Pete," Jeff pulls his gun out while still keeping his eyes locked onto the ring.

"Jeff git'em offa me! I'm already bit I don't need this..."

"We got ourselves a winner," he pulls the trigger, unloading a slug through the forehead of the woman, spraying ooze all over Pete. Jeff tugs at the arm, as it rips off, the body slumping over to reveal the bullet struck through Pete as well, motionless, decaying and covered in bile. Jeff pulls the ring off and tosses the arm aside. "This one sure is a winner," he inspects the ring closely and begins to head back as Pete's eyes dart open, he hisses and lunges for Jeff, who still staring at the ring lands a kick to the chest of Pete, whips his gun around and unloads two shots into his head, sending him slumping over.

"Fucker," Jeff mutters, eyes fixed on the ring. "Shoulda' known it wouldn't be long," he shakes his head and stuffs the ring into his vest pocket, heading back towards the high concrete walls in the clearing.

----

"Jeff," a flashlight pours over Jeff's body, him reaching his arm up to deflect the light, as the guard quickly swings open the iron gate. "Where is Pete? Did you guys get what you were looking for?"

"Stenches got'em," he mutters, reaching into his vest to pull out the shiny diamond ring, holding it up for the guard to see. "But got me a nice little present from a cocksuck'r," he pats the guard on the back, hard, then trots off as the guard closes the gate. "Oh yeah," he yells back, "somebody better go clean that mess up, must be about 12 of 'em out there."
"Oh man, oh man," the guard looks on. "Poor Pete, man... That old Pete, I mean wow..."

"Yeah, sure," Jeff waves his hand towards him.

"Well, Jeff... That Jodi sure is a lucky girl, eh?" He is shouting after Jeff now, but Jeff isn't listening. He slams the gate shut and locks it, staring back at Jeff, only to turn around to be face to face with another, well, zombie, growling at him and sending him onto his ass. The zombie reaching through the bars, trying to get through to no avail. The guard scrambles for his gun and unloads a clip into it, it finally falling over and hissing its last hiss, spraying its last bit of bile. "Shit! That was fuckin' close."

---

"Jo, hey Jo," Jeff calls as he slams open the heavy iron door to the brick-walled house. "Where are ya', babe?"

"Shit, Jeff," a small blonde girl runs out from the bathroom, white towel wrapped snugly around her. "Ya back already? Its only been -- shit, your a fuckin' mess," she looks him up, and holds her nose. "Ya fuckin' with them stenches again?"

"Yeah," he laughs as he slams the door, fastens the deadbolt and plops down in a recliner, pulling out a cigar and flipping open his cast-iron lighter. The flame dances in front of him as he takes a deep breath, cigar lighting and the flame coming to an abrupt halt as the lid slams shut. "What 'bout it?"

"You are gonna get yourself killed, ya' know that?" She sighs and storms into the bed room, the sound of her rummaging through the closet as he laughs to himself, pulling the ring out and staring at it through a haze of smoke.

"Me? Naah," he laughs smugly to himself.

"Yeah, right," she stomps through the hall back into the bathroom, glaring at him on the chair, her eye catching the glint from his hand. "You are gonna get yourself -- hey, hey Jeff," she moves in closer as he lets the ring drop into his palm, him clasping it shut.

"Hey, hey what?"

"What was that?" She tugs at his hand, him keeping it tightly clasped with a smile on his face.

"What was... What?" The smile on his rugged face is ear to ear now as she keeps pulling at his hand, now with both arms, her towel shifting a bit and Jeff staring down her towel. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"You fucker!" She balls her fist up and pounds on his arm. "You know what I'm talking about, now let. it. go!" She grabs a hold of his arm and pulls with all of her weight, giggling as he struggles with her, him letting go, the ring spilling to the floor with her. She collects the towel and stands up, glancing down at the ground and dropping the towel, in shock. "Is that..."

"Something like that," Jeff leans back in the chair and grins, exhaling a ring of smoke.

"Oh Jeff," she leans over and picks up the ring, holding it up to the light, forgetting she ever had a towel. "This is beautiful, I mean, wow."

"Yeah, I fig'red you'd like that," he pulls himself out of the chair and she jumps into his arms.

"Oh Jeff," she holds him tight. "Does this mean?"

"Damn straight," he gives her a squeeze, then pulls her back, takes a long look at her slick, glimmering body and licks his lips. "Go finish washin' up," he smacks her on the ass, she yelps and jumps. "I'll be in soon."

"Oh, I will.. I'll be waiting," She darts off for the bathroom again, as he calls behind her.

"Oh, and, uh," he runs his fingers through his hair. "If I were you I'd just give that a quick washin' to be sure there ain't nothing on it."

Who are they? Are they a threat to our beliefs?

I realized a while ago that posting nothing but opinions can be difficult for me to keep up on. I write MMA shit now when I have time, at Total-MMA.com where some awesome dudes talk about the art of cramming your fist into some dude's face, or throwing him by his clothes.

For now, this is my dumping ground.

--
Rivers

Walls of perception melt into time,
Waves crash and fall -- evening out.
The horizon blurs over, confusing my senses.

The vanishing point is completely gone;
Like it was nothing but an afterthought.

I should be fooled so easily --
Comfort comes at a severe price.
It can't hold you forever,
And in time will turn and bite.

The venom depends on the level of trust,
the amount of doors left open in plain view.
Being vulnerable is proportionate to being alive.
Being alive is bleeding rivers.

When the river stops flowing, the world stops turning.

-----

Ideas

My ideas are my demons,
I only write to draw them out,
To clear myself of them.
After they've left
I could care less where they go,
What they do or who they touch.
They aren't my demons anymore.

Its your choice what to make of them.

The Music Industry -- Hey Pig, Yeah You.

The music industry is dying. I know most of the people I know won't give a fuck about this, but the death of the site OiNk earlier this week is such a huge fucking deal. Remember when Napster got shut down how big of a deal that was? This is a bigger deal, not because this was as popular/famous, because honestly it isn't.

The only way to explain OiNk is as follows; imagine having access to every album, single, EP and everything else music related available to you. Imagine it in high quality, with the option to get lossless FLAC files or 320kbps mp3s, usually with the album artwork included and imagine being able to get it within 5 minutes, tops. That was OiNk. People have been telling me that its not so bad, that SoulSeek still exists, that there are other torrent sites. Well yeah, there are other torrent sites, and there is still the outdated P2P programs. But the fact is, they aren't regulated. If, and rarely if I find something I want on SoulSeek, its going to take at least an hour to get, and most of the time if you try to grab more than one album from a person, they'll be a prick and cancel your downloads. P2P is outdated because you have to interact with a person and hope to holy fuck their connection holds out, or that they don't feel like signing off.

Other torrent sites are alright, but when it comes down to it, it won't have enough seeders and will take a while to download, the quality is going to be a crapshoot, you'll most likely end up with a compressed 128kbps mp3, and you are really going to have to look for it. The other day Candlebox popped into my head. I haven't heard them in ages, and thought 'Fuck, I wanna listen to that album.. Too bad I left it back in RI.' So, logically I think, I'll just grab it really quick on the net. Christ, easier said than done. After about 30 minutes of searching and attempting to download a few torrents, it was just taking too long, why am I waiting 30 minutes for a 50 mb download? If OiNk were still around I'd type in Candlebox, click a few links and I'd fucking HAVE IT.

This was baffling to me, a person who had been using OiNk for a while. Candlebox isn't even an obscure band. Its a band that was popular in the 90's and can still be heard on the radio today once in a while. I'm stuck right now, as I heard a few tracks from this band Byla, and they are just incredible, incredible, and I want to hear more. But I'll be fucking damned if I can find the album I want from them anywhere. Part of the fun was finding new bands that other people that liked bands that I like would link a band to on OiNk. I wouldn't be obsessing over Wolves in the Throne Room if whilst downloading a Cobalt album that I was drooling over, a user didn't link them to WITTR. I don't read music news sites constantly, and I wouldn't have known that Jesu had a new EP and a new album already, I wouldn't be listening to them right now.

The only way I can explain this loss is that I lost an awesome community of music lovers which had its own set of rules that seemed strict, but it was all for the good of everybody else. It seemed like a bitch to have to keep your ratio up in the beginning, and then the more you get, the more you understand that you keep shit open so people can get stuff quickly and easily just like you like to. It seemed like a bitch to want to upload something but the quality wasn't up to par, but then you realize that you wouldn't want to be downloading a low quality version. You wouldn't want to be fucking Radiohead and 'suggesting' people get a really shitty quality version of something and be happy with it. Hell, any of the pay-per-song services fucking suck. The quality is not there, the selection is dull and ITS EXPENSIVE.

CDs don't make sense anymore. Right now I have like 7 CDs in my apartment that aren't blanks/burned copies. I just have no use for them. Most of the music I listen to is on my mp3 player or on my computer. I have a nice set of speakers now for it, which helps, and it serves as my hub for all things music. I stopped buying CDs because all I was doing was buying them just so I could put the CD into my computer and rip it to a 320kbps mp3 to put on my mp3 player and listen to whenever I want. I've bought CDs and merch from smaller labels and directly from bands, but other than that, I've felt such little need to go to Best Buy and pay fucking 19 dollars for a CD that I'm going to end up leaving out, getting scratched, busting the shitty jewel case for and eventually losing.

Labels need to understand that the traditional methods of marketing are completely dead. Music Television had to in a major way repackage itself; MTV started airing reality shows and shows aimed for their usual intended audience anyway who just aren't interested in straight up music videos anymore, MTV2, the 'pure music' station had to do the same. VH1 went the same route as well. Who the fuck listens to the radio anymore? The radio is just decrepit and retarded. Nobody is going to sit by the radio for hours waiting to hear a new song, nobody cares about your DJ and their witty banter or your small corporate playlists. Clearly people want more than this. Radio is what THEY want you to listen to, what THEY think you should like. Pop music sells to kids because kids don't know any fucking better and will have their parents buy them stuff. If I want to hear a new song from a band, I have options. I can go to their myspace page and 98% of the time, their latest track/single/whatever will be up. If I dig that, I'm going to download it. Why should I waste my time being inundated with advertisements and crap I don't want to watch/hear, when I can just go right to the source and get instant gratification?

Music has always been about sharing, and somewhere along the line sharing became a filthy, illegal thing. Somewhere along the line the consumer evolved and the supplier rejected this notion and decided they were right and everybody else was wrong. Now its out of control, and its hilarious.

Radio, the Music Video and CDs are all defunct. Its time for music to move on and mean it. No more of this Radiohead marketing ploy shit, no more of this 99 cent download, DRM shit.

Further reading:

Death of OiNk -- Great Read

The Revolution

Radiohead insults its fans

Trent Reznor, OiNker

Cobalt -- Eater of Birds

Fuck yes.

Sometimes I get bored with metal music as a whole. I just can't get into it, it just doesn't engage me. Lately I've gone through a major postrock/postmetal phase where I just listen to lots of stuff that is ambient and has tons of atmosphere. The only real 'heavy' stuff I've been lapsing into has been Pig Destroyer for my ADD 'I NEED SOMETHING HEAVY AND I NEED IT NOW' fixes while at work.

Funny enough, I found out about Cobalt by seeing "Invincible Sun" on Paper Thin Walls. PTW is a site that is either really hit or miss with the singles they post, but for some reason on this day I pulled the plug from my mp3 player and plugged it back into my PC. I was kinda bored with everything I had and needed something new. I listened to a bunch of indie stuff, some good, some shitty, some just there, when I decided to take a crack at something metal.

This seemed like a way too obviously choice, as it looks like its Jarboe's latest "I feel like doing vocals with some metal band" project. I've always had a soft spot for the Swans, and of course Jarboe's album she did with Neurosis will always be near and dear to my heart. Needless to say, this is leaps and bounds different than what she did with Neurosis, she only appears on a few tracks, and her voice can barely be heard through the screaming guitars, pounding drums and crazy vocals.

Black Metal can wear thin on me I find, and I don't even know if its fair to call this straight up black metal. The album starts off pounding the shit out of the listener with "When Serpents Return" and "Ulcer" but then brings it down to a really mellow 5 minutes with "Ritual Use of Fire." This mellow doesn't last long, as it bleeds right into the next two tracks. "Ritual Use of Fire" is a title used for 3 tracks, creating a leitmotif of epic proportions.

Jarboe's most distinct track on this album is "Androids, Automatons and Nihilists" which only lasts briefly, but is just about as perfect of a 4-minute segue as you are going to get. The album rounds out with a 10+ minute epic title-track, which shows just how much potential to kick ass this band has. I know I'm being rather brief, but I'm just trying to collect my thoughts quickly on this album. I'm sure I'll be able to add to this later on, but for now I want to give this a few more listens.

You should too.

A Wednesday Night Playlist.

Right now I feel like I'm trifling through my own little addictions. It is really a curious thing to live like this, and in a way rather sad. So here is an exercise. I just made a playlist, and here I will write about said playlist.

Guns N' Roses - Dust N' Bones
Joy Division - Day of the Lords
Travis Meeks - Empty Pocket
Ghost - Snuffbox Immenence
Muse - Knights of Cydonia
Steve Von Till - Running Dry
Alice In Chains - Right Turn
Isis - Weight
SunnO))) & Boris - The Sinking Belle

(Tracks will be furnished upon request)

Guns N' Roses is a band that a lot of people have attributed to the duo of Slash and Axl. The reality behind the situation was that they were the public faces that everybody knew and thought were really cool. While apart, Axl has done better than Slash (just an opinion, Velvet Revolver sucks), but both have just kind of floundered. Slash's solo stuff with Snakepit was just disgraceful, and Axl's stuff sounds pretty cool, but its all either live recordings from cell phones or leaks on the internet of demos from baseball players. Then again, Axl has pretty much had the past 15 years to make these songs not suck. What the driving force was behind Guns N' Roses was Izzy. Songs like this are just so great, and neither Slash nor Axl can come close to duplicating a straight up rock n' roll song like this. Axl is too busy trying to create epics with samples, and Slash is too busy trying to stay hip and relevant.

This song always provided such an amazing texture, and was a great song to have placed near the beginning of this album (UYI I). If anything, this was one of the main contributors to the overwhelming tone set for this first album; while UYI II had more of a 'cool' and vast feeling like an ocean (set by Estranged, much, much later), this album had this warm, blistering desert feeling to it. Awesome. I don't think either Slash or Axl have the ability to create a musical texture like Izzy has done on his own and did here.

I'm in no way an expert on Joy Division, and honestly I don't listen to them that much. That being said, I could listen to this song over and over again without getting sick of it. In part, what makes this work so well is the production of this track. It is difficult not to get the feeling of doom from this track when it sounds like it was recorded in a basement while the apocalypse plays out on the streets, only getting a peak from the basement window.

I've already written about Travis Meeks, but this track is in no way the cleanest or best track. Actually, this was the only track that got left off of his 'live bootleg' that he shills on his website and myspace page. I can understand why, as it really feels like a work in progress and still has a few quirks. It in no way is up to snuff for guitar work when compared to a lot of his songs. But I don't know if he has done anything this honest or compelling in a long time. The lyrics are at times awkward, but the intentions are always clear. It moves from regret and confusion to him just tearing himself apart.

"Why don't you give it up?
Let the love -- let the love lift you.
You've got to answer for every mistake--
every mistake.
Money won't buy you what you don't have
But you wanted to use my heart as a stone
Step down an' go back home.
Go back home.
I'm hurtin' inside --
But you like to pay to watch me die.

So don't fill me in on your secrets, no.
Cause I'm doing fine with my own.
I've got an empty pocket, so go back home.
Go back home."

There is something about a dude baring his soul that will never grow old to me. The delivery of most of this song is just vicious in nature. It isn't a heavy or complicated song, but his conviction to every word can turn anybody into a believer that he means everything he is saying. One of the cool points is his guitar-work is Kazuki Tomokawa-like at times in his delivery and complete abandon. He really doesn't give a fuck if that note doesn't ring through, the muffled, flat note says more than a clean one would have anyway.

My mind sort of melts and meanders here. I've found the best way to unwind is to just listen to something that can serve as a background, or easily take you on a trip. Ghost is a band that caught my ear when their album, 'Hypnotic Underworld' came out. It was beautiful, fun, energizing and really delicate all at the same time. Exploring deeper into their library is by no means a bad idea. The album which this is the title track for is if possible more of a traditional album than the latter, without starting off with one giant jam track. They still jam, there is still the same soft vocals and twangy guitar that can in an instant turn into a menacingly hazy drill. The title track does not in any way disappoint, as it has everything Ghost is good at; Jamming, switching between soft and gentle to crazy and everything in between.

I didn't even know Muse had an album that came out last year. Hell, I didn't even get into Muse until I saw the trailer for 28 Weeks Later. I thought 'shit, this sounds like Radiohead with balls.' Now I can't go a few days without putting on some Muse. That speaks volumes for them, I think. This song will go back to my previous point about texture. This song has texture and a really awesome atmosphere to it. What is even more shocking is that the video for it fits so extremely well into the mood and atmosphere that this song creates. This song sums up some neuvo-pulp western to a T. That being said, it could also be seen as almost a Queenish tribute, as the vocals are just fantastic and infectious. The amount of times I've had this on at work and felt the need to sing along with it is rather embarrassing. Music can totally be fun, and should really be fun and make you want to just sing along and get caught up in the moment with it.

"You and I must fight to survive."

Neurosis is a band that will always be near and dear to me, but it is a band that more or less has branded themselves on destruction and subtlety. That is why Steve Von Till's solo stuff is so refreshing. Neurosis are the kings of making music that takes you somewhere. Every album has its own distinct feeling to it, and is something that no other band is able to recreate. I remember when one of my friends hipped me to them. It was under the pretense of; "You like Tool, right? You should like Neurosis. Neurosis is Tool if Tool did Tool right."

Von Till's solo album(s) will take you somewhere. Unlike most Neurosis albums, Von Till's albums are just so basic and vulnerable. I can't think of a more vulnerable track than 'Running Dry.' Whenever I hear this, I want to be sitting out in the woods with an acoustic strumming away about how sorry I am that I can't relate to the world anymore.

Man, I just fucking like Alice In Chains. Leave it at that.

'Oceanic' is seen by many as ISIS' crowning achievement. I think they have done a great job of living up to that album, but Panopticon didn't have the same sort of unity that this album did. The latest one did, but that is another story for another day. Oceanic creates a clear and easy picture, and Isis does a fantastic job of making an album that is as serene and vengeful as an ocean. 'Weight' goes through many transformations, and in doing so creates the same sort of awe and respect that an ocean should yield.

I feel like the last month is sort of defined by 'The Sinking Belle' by SunnO))) and Boris. Somber, slow and restrained. There is just something so surreal about SunnO)))'s music that is hard to explain. I can listen to SunnO))) while at work, while unwinding or deep in thought. It is always inspiring and always makes me want to just start slamming my fist onto my guitar and let the sustain do the rest.

This song is really not like any other SunnO))), which is what I think really draws me to it. It is out of the ordinary for them, yet it is completely something they would do. Even the apocalypse needs to have an eye to the storm. That is what this is; the eye of the storm. It is the calm, eerie in between point that lets you rest and urges you to push forward. If you give up now, you've only gotten part of the way there.

That is the kind of song I need right now, and completely where I am.