DK075: Rainmaker / Øjne - Split 7" EP

by Rainmaker / Øjne

Le Poids Des Ombres Des secondes d'excitation dans une vie remplie de vide. Le matin, on peine à se lever, le poids est immense, les jambes fléchissent et les mains tremblent. Des secondes d'exaltation dans une existence vide de sens. On se réveille en apnée, à jouer avec la mort, des cœurs engourdis, de la sueur sur le front. On court la plupart de nos années après d'éphémères moments de bonheur, dans un souci d'échapper à l'ennui. On s'approche alors doucement vers la décadence, enchaînés aux murs de leurs bâtiments, on deviendra les esclaves de leurs constructions. /// Dans l'infime espoir de pouvoir un jour apercevoir au loin le bout de la mer, juste pour quelques heures, prélassé, pouvoir regarder de plus loin la mort qui s'étale devant mes yeux. Mais ce que je veux vraiment, c'est regarder la lumière se tuer et laisser place aux ombres, sombres esquisses portées sur des visages pâles, des silhouettes difformes pliant sous les cataractes qui les écrasent par terre. Coule ma vie, sur le sable imperméable. Flotte l'espoir, sur le flot de mes palabres. Glissent mes larmes, sur mon visage trop pâle. Je crève la gueule ouverte ! And the rain will draw the outlines of their cells, Of their shaky skeletons in unoccupied bodies, Streaming tears revealing our faded graves, In which we'd wish to fall asleep... Je dois avouer qu'en temps sombres, Sauter d'un pont n'est pas une option négligeable --- THE WEIGHT OF THE SHADOWS Seconds of excitement in a life filled with emptiness In the mornings we struggle to get up, the huge weight bends our legs and our hands tremble. Seconds of exaltation in a meaningless existence, We wake up holding our breath, dicing with death; benumbed hearts and sweat drips on our brows. We spend most of our lives running after Transitory moments of happiness For the sake of escaping ennui. Getting closer and closer to our decadence, Chained to the walls of their buildings We become the slaves of their constructions. /// With the tiniest hope to someday be able to glimpse at the tip of the sea, just for a few hours, lounging; and from afar, be able to watch the death fanning out in front of my eyes. But, what I want to, what I really want to; is to stare at the dying light and its fading shadows, the dark sketches covering the palest faces, the misshapen-silhouettes folding under the cataracts crushing them. My life flows on the impermeable ground, The hope floats on my palaversí flow, My tears slip on my pale countenance, I perish, mouth wide-open. And the rain will draw the outlines of their cells Of their shaky skeletons in unoccupied bodies, Streaming tears revealing our faded graves, In which weíd wish to fall asleep. Iíve got to admit that at dark times, Jumping off a bridge is not a negligible option.
Da Qualche Parte, Nel Momento Giusto E se dovessi ricominciare da zero? E se dovessi cancellare tutto? Potrò ancora dire "ho ancora i miei amici, i miei dischi, i biglietti del treno"? Per quanto tempo potrò avere la mente piena di ciminiere e vecchi palazzi prima che il suo sguardo incendiario faccia piazza pulita dei miei ricordi, e quante luci dovrò accendere, in quanti vetri specchiarmi prima che anche questo posto mi sia familiare? Ma ci vuole più tempo per nasconder le cose che non vanno più bene che per trovarne di nuove. Ogni notte, spenta la luce, non resta che il peso del sarcasmo in cui annego, come se tu e tutti gli altri fossero solo dei nomi scritti su un braccio. E ogni mattina almeno per un attimo quel peso è un ricordo lontano, e se questo attimo diventasse un giorno, se ogni giorno fosse lungo un anno forse sarebbe ancora come quando l'unica preoccupazione era non scivolare sul ghiaccio, ricordarsi le chiavi e i vestiti pesanti. Qualcosa che avrei dovuto scrivere da qualche parte, nel momento giusto: se la lancetta si fosse fermata nel punto tra l'undici e il dodici sarei stato contento così. Ma il tempo è passato in fretta e se dovessi cancellare tutto, proverei quantomeno a tenere questi biglietti sbiaditi dei treni, tutti scaduti da anni. Fingerei che valgono ancora, che non prenderei una multa, che al capolinea ci sia qualcuno in piedi ad aspettarmi, incurante del freddo e dei ritardi. --- SOMEWHERE, AT THE RIGHT TIME What if I had to start from scratch? What if I had to erase everything? Will I still be able to say "I still have my friends, my records, these train tickets"? For how long will I be able to keep my mind full of chimneys and old buildings before their incendiary eyes will sweep away all of my memories, and how many lights will I have to turn on, in how many glasses will I have to see my reflection, before this place will become familiar too? But it takes more to hide things that are no longer good than finding new ones. Every night, when the light is turned off, nothing remains but the burden of the sarcasm in which I drown, as if you and everyone else were all just names written over an arm. And every morning, even if just for a moment, that burden is a distant memory, and if this moment could become a day, if every day was a year long, maybe it would still be the same as when the only concern was not to slip on the ice and not forgetting the keys and the warm clothes. Something I should have written somewhere, at the right time: if the clock had stopped right between eleven and twelve I would have been happy with it. But time went fast and if I had to erase everything I would at least try and keep these faded train tickets, all expired years ago. I'd pretend that they're still valid, that I wouldn't get a fine, that at the last stop there would be someone waiting for me, regardless of the cold and of the delays.


Split 7" EP available via Dog Knights Productions in April 2015. Artwork by Christian Brix.


released April 20, 2015


Instruments recorded by Ola Sandberg at Discrete Motion Recordings, Malmö, Vocals recorded by Pancho at Djungel Studio, Eslöv, Mixed by Ola Sandberg in Eslöv & Montreal.

Mastered by Steve Roche at Permanent Hearing Damage Studio, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.


Recorded and Mixed by Stefano Garotta at Soundcheck Studio, Milan, Italy.

Mastered by Steve Roche at Permanent Hearing Damage Studio, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.


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