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For Everything to Be Consummated, For Me to Feel Less Alone, I Had Only to Wish That There Be A Large Crowd Of Spectators The Day of My Execution And That They Greet Me With Cries of Hate

by Parrhesia

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1.
VI 02:26
lyrics
When the last light fades away and the blue-green sky is swept with a dim black haze take a good hard look at your eyelids. The pitch black silence and the sounds of unheard violence. Let the world in and run wild. Let the world in, go out of your mind. When you let the world in, you're bound to die.
2.
IX 00:47
lyrics
This is the sound of bursting hearts and idle hands. Biting words from bleeding tongues. A cacophony of broken plans, mixed into all the songs left unsung. this is the sound.
3.
VIII 00:56
lyrics
Your eyes burnt black; deep set, wandering. Lost in the universe. Trapped by imagination. It stopped at the end of the world and began again each morning. Time whispers away into oblivion. It stopped at the end of the world and began again each morning. We're on a dead parade in the rain.
4.
VII 03:17
lyrics
There's a woman, whimpering in the corner by the window. Sunk into her eyes, her soul through sunken breaths. "I have heard it," she says, "I have heard the sound of his fury." And the wind shudders against the pane, shaking it. And the morning grey sky hangs over black trees black chimneys black earth, echoing it. "I have heard the sound." And the light covers in blankets of orange that black earth, my black earth. And she stops crying all at once, but the breathing. "It was always darkest before the dawn," she says, "but now here is the sun." The earth shudders awake.

about

ice age records number three

Call it screamo, punk, thrash, just don't call it quiet. On Parrhesia's "For Everything to Be Consummated, For Me to Feel Less Alone, I Had Only to Wish That There Be a Large Crowd of Spectators the Day of My Execution and That They Greet Me With Cries of Hate," they make bands like Orchid look passe, and keep the heavy fans interested with the same filthy grit as Tragedy and Reversal of Man. The rhythms snap out of nonsensical patterns into sharp, cohesive beats, while the guitars meld distortion so thick you could keep Beowulf out. The distraught vocals come sporadically as they desperately compete to make sense of the song's toppled structure. Making short tracks shorter and slow parts painfully exaggerated, the 7"'s title incurs some deliberate foreshadowing.

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released June 30, 2009

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ice age records Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

smoke cops, kill weed

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