1. |
Mother's Concrete Womb
12:56
|
|
||
|
Seven hills cloaked in a veil of mist
Dancing atomies fade into nothingness
Ceasing to exist
Ink bruised clouds meet a rot of smog
Burst like blisters on the fingers of some scorched god
Forming haze and inland rain
A grey vista, a landscape turned portrait
Bust of the earth draped in decay
A hum of withering dismay
Cat's eyes in the fog shimmer and light the way
A disembodied grin haunts every step we take
Metal structures stalk with girded limbs
Stung by rain and hiss a monotone din
Blessed be the children of mother's concrete womb
Baptised in a font of rainbow spattered water
Listless lovers dream in dew dazzled fields
Awash with fumes and factory disease
Tragic poets in possession of a broken quill
Celephais repose
Born ill yet beautiful
‘Tis a fine line ‘tween heaven and here
The end of lustre and whimsy
Close this book and look to the skies
Where the stars are drowned by artificial light
Childhood stories were but hollow tales
Fantasy weaved inside of a veil
And so the colour slowly slides from the eyes
As a velveteen rabbit decays by the roadside
Search the hills and woods for wonder
Mourn innocence once so humble
Though the heart it slowly breaks
And the body is slaked in rain
Steel structures are out standing on a hillside looming in
With faces kissed by sparks
Born from crucible fires
In this blitz pocked chasm that we call home
We found fables to inspire
Dragged feet first through the birth canal
Of some industrial god
It’s children are blessed by the caustic rain
Spat from a virulent sky
The earth moves to reclaim and reanimate life
Structures bound by roots
This city is alive, and it moves, and it breathes
Bilious smoke
|
||||
2. |
Waxwork Gorgon
08:41
|
|
||
|
An industrial tomb
Workers to be interred within
White marbles gaze
From within a desert of soot
Beneath a rusted sky
Vermilion rot
Drips from shrivelling clouds
Infects red eyes
Wets constantly shaking hands
See these constantly trembling hands
Knuckles scraped across brickwork
The red, white and hanging skin
Drawn tight to a clenched fist
Dead men dream of life
Smoke kissed lips and furrowed brows
Concrete burns and shoulders slumped
Faces only a mother could love
The bodies are fixed
Pre-mummified
Sliding into their sarcophagi
Can you hear my heart?
As it beats much more slowly, gently
Can you see my soul?
As it breaks and escapes from my body
Can you feel the wind?
As it blows through my open ribcage
Can you feel the glare?
Of a waxwork gorgon that petrifies us
Oh, we little statuettes
Upon a battered chessboard
Weeping angels
Move when no-one’s watching
Steady on there duck
Tha’s got no influence ‘ere
While thee might remain
In a ghoulish museum of oddities
Tha flakes of rusted iron are
Replaced with stainless steel soul
We ‘ave melted down the effigy
And filled our wounds with wax
|
||||
3. |
Floral Cairn
07:46
|
|
||
|
These rivers are clogged with the dead
That infect the waters
And the trees are but makeshift gallows
From which to swing
Heavy hang the portraits of your much loved sons and daughters
In reverence from which they can never falter
Tell us tall tales of past generations
Heroic and strong, shoulders broad
Stiff upper lip and all of that
Such candour won’t help your children
So heavy hang the portraits of your much loved sons and daughters
In reverence from which they can never falter
Let us sing hymns of care professed in hindsight
Bathe in the afterglow of a fire left unattended
And those embers that were deigned to spread
To dry cursed fields in which cancer was sown
Met with fondness by those of darkening thoughts
As though a traveller returning home
For it is not the cliff edge but the desire to jump
That stills the mortal mind with fear
The rocks are well dashed with broken souls
And the sea burns soothing crimson
Familiar platitudes
Saying all the right words
The stench of flowers
Born of rotten soil
A garden of decay
The fermenting heavens
A brand new plaque
Playgrounds grazed with chalk outlines
In dreams lifeless marionettes dangle from the trees
And mannequins are laid out and dressed in finest garb
Faceless and without context
The mealy mouths do chomp into decaying flesh
Saliva breaking down the putrescence and spat into insignificance
They think this virtue, they think this right to do
But the silence before, the deafening silence
A silence that bores deep into the soul and blackens once starlit eyes
That feel and search for hope in a vacuum
What remains but a floral cairn
A totem to memories
Shrivelled petals that drift in the wind
A distant voice unheard
The dry field has grown a garden of stones
That reach towards heaven
Plumes of ash dance into the sky
Spread far and wide and then settle
You’ll scrub your limbs of the chalky fallout
But it will cling to us
And the flowers marked for remembrance
Will slowly wither and die
As we forget once more
|
||||
4. |
Well of Sorrows
11:03
|
|
||
|
In the misty morning daze I came here to find you
Rapidly darting eyes weave a picture from memory
Of places we frequented now featureless and strange
Silence to deafen a comforting din of conversation
As though a ghost I re-enact the final movements
A doomed actor resigned to this episode
The trees are painted bowed in still life
As I approach the well of sorrows
It was placed here for all to see
No architect, but pilgrims to its monument
A dismal oubliette
For those who wish to suffer unseen
For it’s here I found you
My ear sensitive to the faint sound of running water
And I’ll descend
And I’ll retrieve
And I’ll light a candle
How far that little candle throws his beams
If only you could feel your warmth as others do
So here we are in the muck and the waste and the wet
Just lift your head and look at me
Look at me with those shattered eyes that I remember
And turn them up to the sky
Listen to me, hear my words clearly
I’ve been down here before and I know where to go
Climb with me, find your footing
Ascend from this place and make for the sun
Make for the sun
Climb we must to meet the life that we both long for and deserve
All the years that we have left to fill with laughter and memories
And moments of no significance save that of fine company
I know for sure that we’ll look back on all of this when we are...
Old and grey, having fought for better days
With hearts full and scars faded away
And I can see the light in your eyes
Of dreams that are still to be realised
Follow me to salvation
Follow me to daylight
At the mouth of the well, I extend my arm
And urge you to..
Take my hand
|
||||
5. |
|
|||
|
Open Water
Adrift in stillness
The silent dance of charred feathers
In haze and nausea
The lights dimming
A quiet death out of sight, out of mind
Here lost in a din that vibrates within
A skull that is home to stinging insects
For they scratch and they hiss and they buzz like a fridge
And fingers press upon closed eyelids
In stillness, drifting
The waters expanding
Over flowing
Distant clouds ignite with bright flashes
And so to sink with the heaviest of hearts
Anchored by failure, bound by regret
The loneliness of the liquid abyss
Drawn down by the lead weight of sorrow
Into the darkest of darkened trenches
This ocean that fills a wound
Stare do eyeless figures
Mariners drowned and tethered
Suspended in deathless hallow
This is a sickness of loneliness and heartbreak
That slowly ferments the mind
To right a ship in a bottle and survive seems futile
Lungs filled with vomit, distended bellies, guts fully rotted
Still, them drowned mariners
Stare with their eyeless eyes
In waterlogged gibbet
Mummified in fetid brine
Is thou named Rosencrantz?
Is thou named Guildernstern?
I should think it matters not
When offstage thou presence forgot
Oh, permit thee to dream
Permit thee to see
Permit thee to breathe
On land and above this sea
Thou shalt not be wreckage
Thou shalt not be debris
Thou shalt be a new species
To emerge from this dark sea
|
||||
6. |
Legasov
08:18
|
|
||
|
The artist is painting a landscape that’s fading
A tapestry to burn before the watchers eyes
Bow to no applause, the curtain falls
Naught of consequence
Upon the pale blue dot
We have always drifted in darkness
Angels descend from a hole in the sky
The kingdom of heaven was always a lie
Feathered dead fall from pestilent clouds
Into mired sickness and rot most profound
Death comes to memories, history erased
Cacophonous thoughts escape in a haze
Stilled are the eyes that behold such a sight
Blinded by a thousand pillars of light
Godless void
Vacuum of pitiful irrelevance
Nihilist
Augurs shriek tortured lamentations
Searching for some deeper meaning
An epiphany of some sort of cosmic justice
Transience
Blessed be sweet innocence
As our children make angels in the fallout
But as the buildings fall around us
And the sky turns red with fire
I gaze deep into your tearful eyes
And you have never looked more beautiful
For in this moment as we embrace
All that matters is you and I
|
||||
If you like Ba'al, you may also like:
Cutting the Throat of God
by Ulcerate
supported by 72 fans who also own “The Fine Line Between Heaven and Here”
This is for me the best metal album of 2024, and I'd even venture to say one of the best of the decade. First, there was a feeling of awe at the immense complexity of their music, while simultaneously processing all the emotions evoked by such a tremendous work. This is much more than technical skill and instrumental prowess; it's pure feeling and emotion and pierces the soul every time. These guys managed to create a unique musical language that places them in a world inhabited solely by them.
go to album
supported by 71 fans who also own “The Fine Line Between Heaven and Here”
Recommended to me based on similar styles, I immediately fell in love with this. It hits so many things I love about music. Incredible vocals, beautiful music, that jazz throughout is fantastic. Very emotionally moving. This is going to be played for many years.
go to album
supported by 70 fans who also own “The Fine Line Between Heaven and Here”
This is so raw, honest and powerful. It's everything I look for when I listen to music. So glad I saw Blackbraid at Hellfest (by chance, as I was walking by). Been listening ever since.
go to album
Wormwood in the Veins of the World
by Feversea
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 13, 2026
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Aug 4, 2023
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 18, 2022
go to album
supported by 66 fans who also own “The Fine Line Between Heaven and Here”
Well, after listening to Death and Black Metal for over 35 years, it sometimes gets boring, even if bands try to innovate. But then you stumble upon an album, which immediately clicks: it fresh, but familiar. It’s emotional, intelligent and complex, but not for complexities’ sake. It flows, it works, it’s authentic. This album is absolutely great, it’s all I want from this kind of music: cold soundscapes, raging fires, the embrace of darkness. 10/10
go to album
