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Black & White Art For Man & Beast

by Wormsblood

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about

Pumping like Black Minttu through a newborn babies' veins, this long awaited new release from Wormsblood is deadly and simply wrong. This is the first full-length album from Wisconsin's own atavistic horde. Initially recorded in the Spring of 2009, old Wyrdskull Widdershins (the group's leader, a.k.a. Clay Ruby from Burial Hex) has finally brought us the master copy, after meticulously mixing and editing it for nearly two years. Utilizing the energies of a full five-piece band, "Black and White Art for Man and Beast" is much more dramatic and intense than previous Wormsblood outings, which mainly featured Wyrdskull alone or with the occasional studio cameo from local brethren. Anyone already familiar with Wormsblood will surely recognize the tortured howling vocals, the layers of nauseating atmosphere, and the bitter romanticism of the melodies and lyrics. However, even those adept at stomaching Wormsblood's disgusting cuisine will not be prepared for the dynamic tension brought forth on this record. Though this band is understandably identified with the Black Metal movement, the music on this album is best described as a type of Surrealist Blackened Prog Metal, mixing elements of Death, Doom and Black Metals with aspects of Neofolk, Power Electronics, Martial and Industrial musics. A heady brew that is not easily enjoyed or understood, even by us, but we are sure happy to be unleashing this mystery on the world.

Remastered by Nathaniel Ritter, April 2020

credits

released October 31, 2011

"Did I do, O God, did I as I said I'd do? Good, I did."


Morning of Drunkenness by Arthur Rimbaud

O my good! O my beautiful! Appalling fanfare where I do not falter. Rack of enchantments! Hurrah for the wonderful work and for the marvelous body, for the first time! It began in the midst of children's laughter, with their laughter it will end. This poison will remain in all our veins even when, the fanfare turning, we shall be given back to the old disharmony. O now may we, so worthy of there tortures!, fervently take up that superhuman promise made to our created body and soul: that promise, that madness!


The Hunt is Over

Aflame with prayer,
deafened by the moon calling
without fear
like leaves we are falling
and without dawn,
an endless night, the purest of vandals
Aflame with prayer
deafened by the moon calling
the angry sea
pulls your hair and covers my ears
and without dawn
an endless night, with masks on our faces

from the center
holding us down
a sight to give switch
the backwards crown

your body dressed the shower
of rages you are
landlocked in your fits
all in your rages
wringing out your hands
tilted towards the sky

the hall of the gods
the lips that gave reach to the sky
without fear
like leaves we are falling
handling the backwards crown
from the center
holding us down
without fear
like leaves we are falling
the hall of the gods
the lips that gave reach to the sky
a sight to give switch
handling the backwards crown

rage above the showers
tears of alchemy
like spiders
our private infantry


A Harvest of Stars

Oracles across the boards
deep soul light on its hinges
rare the sweet brown essence
candling dreams from your ears
before you are deafened
with vows sweet oracles
the song of st. michael
is spent on the face of the father
so rare that sweet brown oracle
when the senses are friends
it's not our decision
driven to the undoing of dragons
ablaze with the mercy of nations
in heat
falling
hardening
the sea
turns to ice
and we keep looking for the king
and we keep looking for the king
and we keep looking for the king
and we keep looking for the king

a harvest of stars
the moment's release in brilliance the matter
take heed in your stacking
the tower of troubles becomes the blind light house
the entropy of idealism
is piping the march
this entropy is
burning the fields and raping the stars

sky bound
under the stars
beaming
sky bound
under the stars
beaming
sky bound
keep looking for the king
keep looking for the king


Heritage of the Heir (Cursed be)

Song of destiny
steady urochs
feeding from palms
uplifted
a steady chorus
with a curious song
of destiny uplifted
rhapsody stopped working

at an early age
fantasy and blues
selenite and sage
called a balance and

stopped to marvel
can't let it go for long
enough to not pull it back
the emerald slap
that cool green Venus
has grown bored with history
and blown breath into true eyes
crying the horn of heaven
made lace across the sky
and carbon angels
come tumbling down

the teenage pace
of ruby-eyed disciples and
other prisoners of song
who are the prisoners of song?

in the black low lands
in the heat of the moment
we always choose Nina
we always choose Nina
eagle rare trance
the web-heads
sing softly
the horns are hard
scented with spirits


Blood Brothers Today

This city, I am sick
I've only time for the timeless
This city, I am sick
Look, the King's archers are drunk
"My patience is a medal pinned to your lapel"

Gun me down in a circle of birch!,
with stone spring and spear
Loyalty for Loyalty
Mad as birds we learn
Loyalty for Loyalty

hold this wind
with your sucking breath
your eyes devastated
your love beyond death

Why'd they shoot the captain down?,
with stone spring and spear
Loyalty for Loyalty
Mad as birds we learn
Loyalty for Loyalty

How to dance
How to curse
How to plant
How to kill
How to dance
How to curse
How to plant
How to kill
How to dance
How to curse
How to plant
How to kill

Gun me down in a circle of birch
with stone spring and spear
Loyalty for Loyalty
Mad as birds we learn
Loyalty for Loyalty


Red Gold

*Darling cloak and dagger
in a race against midnight
it's too early to tell
but you are not my friend
there's a crowbar in the van
there's a crowbar in the van
so strange to be alone with you
how old are you?
tell me true, too urgent for a ghost town
one among us is still alive
tell me, is it me or is it you?*

leaves red as heavenly blood
the fruits hemorrhage
her strange mothers
escorted across the street
their song a shudder
her gay fathers are lined up to a crawl
humming the October Song
all of the crooked ways home

celebrate this little life
drunken on chicken wine

lit candle for ancestors
and slept alone in the dark
frozen and sharp as ice pick
ride the middle pillar down
frozen and sharp as ice pick
ride the middle pillar down

celebrate this little life
drunken on chicken wine

lit candle for ancestors
and slept alone in the dark
frozen and sharp as ice pick
ride the middle pillar down
frozen and sharp as ice pick
ride the middle pillar down


A Crypt Inside A Kingdom, A Kingdom Inside A Crypt


Sword swallowing Sword

Sickness will enter
and exit like a gas
another wind in my blown
center
where the hero bends a pitch

and the lover turns the lights down
The swirl of saturn
binding fall
in the Libra and the bowing out
to say a solo
and play grinning gentleman
roustabout
concentrated, dividing light
garlic and algae
a fever and paisley walls
old pizza and the last pound left
old pizza and the last pound left
Iron wounds on the psalters
of the Axis
blood spoken the only
access of certain known
unknowables
you who ran out onto the grass
and got your feet wet
this wolf skull hears you
howling to a crawl
give grind to the middle
and let the little ones live

fantastic geometry
holy jive


Morning of Drunkeness by Arthur Rimbaud (..continued)

Elegance, science, violence! They promised to bury in darkness the tree of good and evil, to deport tyrannic respectability so that we might bring hither our very pure love. It began with a certain disgust -- and it ends, -- unable instantly to grasp this eternity, -- it ends in a riot of perfumes.

Laughter of children, discretion of slaves, austerity of virgins, loathing of faces and objects here, holy be all of you in memory of this vigil. It began with every sort of boorishness, behold it ends with angels of flame and ice.

Little drunken vigil, holy! if only because of the mask you have bestowed on us. We pronounce you, method! We shall not forget that yesterday you glorified each one of our ages. We have faith in the poison. We know how to give our whole life every day.

Now is the time of the Assassins.

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Brave Mysteries Wisconsin

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2010 - 2020

From the heart of Wisconsin to the furthest reaches of the cosmos.

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