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Liminal Rite

by Kardashev

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Philzen
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Philzen Constantly breaking expectations and listening habits, this album doesn't get boring a single second. Wish the clean vocals were less drowned in reverb and the drum sound less sampled, while the timing is feeling joyfully lively and not killed by quantization. Killer bass lines and sound. These creative, interwoven layers of music demand attention … and reward it!
gebs
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gebs Relentless and melodic, this stands toe-to-toe against giants of progressive death metal (or whatever "deathcore" is). Favorite track: Apparitions in Candlelight.
Rasmus Yde
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Rasmus Yde 'Deathgaze' is a new concept for me, but I'm so glad that it finally found its way into my life. It's all the heaviness we know from death metal, wrapped in delicious ambience and melody, topped off with a deep and thought-provoking overarching story. Favorite track: Compost Grave-Song.
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1.
Fields of gold sway like waves of the ocean. Gentle chimes echo through the air, Their dancing melodies swing with the wind. A unison of wonder from the heavens. Surface level beauty apparent to common eyes, But underneath are my memories. Below the golden breeze, A piece of me remains cold and still... Placed there as a result of my own negligence. I caused us all so much grief And the guilt consumes me still. I left this place, But you...stayed. The further from you I get, The more your face is clouded. I can't see you, And I can't hear your name. I don't want to forget. I don't want you to disappear. I need to return. I need to see you again.
2.
Coin of pure gold In green oceans, Or a setting sun Sinking into Open hands? Tucked away there - Where I’ve hid all my treasures. One hidden note In the loose earth with a map to the things that I’ve found... Drawn by hand. Tied together With cloth torn from her apron O, crack in a mirror! A penumbra blinding! Pulled back to what was! And Weakness in clouded eyes! Torn from The dirt. The willow tree I once knew. Brother! Sister! Mother! Father! Nights are getting longer now. In time I’ll be too old. Now, nothing is familiar! The shadow is blinding! This face, and these hands - Dead trees and dead soil. I pulled the golden cornsilk from my hair. Hand made curtains drew me home. I am a silvered shadow of old air. Where I lived now overgrown. Torn from The dirt. The man that I was. Faded thought! Lost my name To your ghost! I pulled the golden cornsilk from my hair. Hand made curtains drew me home. I am a silvered shadow of old air, Where I lived now overgrown.
3.
There, a small chair in the dust On its side with splintered legs. Cracks in a mirror Across from old portraits. There, a table that I carved into. Secret note below laid to bare. I believed what was written - “I am invisible” “Light the candle in the middle of the room. Burn your bridges to a past that has been lost” The shadows in the room have grown taller. I’ve been here too long. Blinded by greed for a past I don’t own - Crater in the carpet Where I once dropped the match. I speak to shadows. My shadow…. Myself …... Longing for this room To be crowded again. How can I feel what is gone? Can I be replaced with love? Kiss away my wooden bones. I am a pilgrim, And Oh, I am lost. The past that I loved Has been molded and mossed. A ghost in the window A ghost on the lawn. And Oh, how I miss it, When certainty won. Arms of the earth lay bare on the ground! Through broken windows, the cicadas sound! Light the candle in the middle of the room! Burn your Bridges to a past that has been lost! On a bed made out of broken matchsticks and moss…. Light the candle in the middle of the room!
4.
Dissever 01:11
5.
O, Lavender Calligraphy, You who exist behind every letter! A faint voice, if I listen… What was your name again? Here’s the flower I picked, “I’m sorry” That I pressed in the pages before. “O, god, those weren’t the things that I meant” Filled with prayers that she made, “Resentment” That I locked away deep in the drawer. “It was you who said that I’d be dead” Oh she made her mistakes! Silhouette of a phantom I know. “Son, you know that you’re going to hell” Distant voice of a girl who once ran from her father. Looking back now I know, it was fear. Loss again - An explosion A match. I live on that day. I live in that room. Folding quilts and avoiding her eyes Dead regret! Chitin shell underground. Inside the dresser That was there far before I could stand, Your molded letter Folded there in a drawer left unsent. “I love you forever, I like you for always For as long as you’re with me.” What was your name again?
6.
I am transformed. A shapeless artifact of myself long gone. There are fragments in my mind of who I once was, But the memories are obscured by regrets... by apologies I'll never have the chance to make. My eyes no longer see them... faces and shadows of those who have gone from my view. The weight of all I have seen blurs my vision. These eyes are not my own. I don't see myself in the mirror. I do not recognize this image. Past or present. These eyes can’t be my own. I can't see myself in the mirror. I cannot recognize this image. Past or present.
7.
At the back of the house by the compost Is the plot where my brother lies dead. “He got lost” That's what I told them, And I'm mocked by the stone on his head. How could I have known it would be like this? It was a mistake! Moss on the carving Covers your name. Return to the dirt…. My memories…. Fading….. And I am to blame. I left you in the dirt that day. How can I stand by your bed? I am a fragment of stone that was broken. Oh, your mind.. Still alive in the trees. Washed away, My mind is distilled into the purest form of grief. Show me your face, my brother forgotten. Let me go. Let me recall. Six feet below… five decades away. You are gone but somehow I stay. Place upon me your blanket of soil. Dead branches above, A chasm beneath me. My regret fades to thoughts I can’t place My mind aches to join you. If only that I could forget.
8.
In the cellar Underneath the stairs... Sips of wine stole When I was young - Candlelight ghost stories. Every time that I climbed the stairs - Sun pouring on flour like fireflies… Dust-settling room! Dust set upon my eyes! I never knew the pain in your hands. I took for granted the days that I saw you. What does it mean to be standing here... To breathe in your ghosts again…. I can’t release this Come away with me I know… I know... All the hours that I have spent alone. Come away with me I know… I know… I am bound by my past. I should have known! “I’ll make things right” Misted face in the mirror, I'll become your host. Growing shade of a past I can no longer know. What does it mean to lose my own name To thoughts that have left me alone? I can’t release this! I'll stay awake until I am dead! A shadowsong of memories bled. A cracking floor, My old creaking bones. I’ve lost my life to things I don’t own. This is all I knew...I ran. Dead men don’t come home...I’ll rest.
9.
Say you’re ashamed again! Spit the words out! This hatred I cannot place Tears at my throat! Stone in his hand As he sobbed on the dirt. Broken glass memories Spread on the ground. I stood upon the porch that you brought into being with your hands. Evident memories…. I will not stand for this. Slave to anger, Just a shell of a man! Eat your words, you dying coward! I don’t deserve this! Let me come home! Let me come home! Give me back my mind! Spare from this! Oh, tell my father his bastard son Has come unto the place of his birth To take his claim! Shattered glass in the light! Apparition of thought in my mind! Clarity caught in my throat! Oh, It hurts to know! O, curse of my eyes - To see what is gone. O, curse of the hands - Never come back! To cling to the past. Let me come home!
10.
For a shadow to be cast, There a man must stand. But on the pulled up floors Of my childhood Below me - A sunbleached love of the past! Shades pulled from the bones of my old home. Torn from the flesh of me! I never owned this. Plaster and frame be damned! Curtain, Candle, and Letter. Compost, Cellar, and Stone.
11.
Take me home, Flame on the floor. Tell them that I’m home, Light on the door. Dancing shadows of me. Take me home, Fire. Roof, open wide. Eyes to the stars… The sky. Attic, come down. Rest on the ground... Alight. My empty hand An eclipse. No need to wake again. I’ll never leave. Swallow each thought I am! Oubliette, forget me Down in the cellar. Dirge sung in embers To the cracking of dry bones. Rise from these ashen walls! Our censer! Washed out with the flame. I will be found in the morning, And no one will know who I am. Mind, rise with the smoke! I’m asking for forgiveness! I’m being selfish again... But what else do I know? As a curling silhouette I can finally let go. I can finally let go. I have made my return To the place of my earliest memory. The consequences of my absence are clear. This place I once called home has gone from me. Were it not for my existence, And the remnants of my frail memory, This tired world of mine would be lost. Though... Everything is different. The animals don't come here anymore. The ground has moved, And the arms of the earth have fallen. The windows peering through the overgrowth Seem to face a different direction now. Even the cicadas sound different. I cannot fathom how, But everything has changed. This is not my home.

about

It's strange to live in a time when information is immortal. While humans have been holding onto images since we could scrape the walls of caves and smear them with ochre, our ability to retain memories and ideas has become greatly sophisticated. I, as with many others, have found myself living in images and music from the past to ease the anxiety of facing the modern era. Moments of uncertainty can be assuaged by a familiar and predictable TV show. The fear of forgetting can be abated by snapping a photo and uploading it to social media. Even further, we can reflect and dwell on memories of past comforts. However, these reflections often turn into sour ruminations. We find ourselves addicted to remembering. To hastily retreat into memory is to search for a community where no one lives, and often those thoughts are interwoven with past mistakes and regret.
Liminal Rite explores and amplifies my own tendency to depend on the past, and examines how nostalgia has become a means of self-medication that has only been magnified in recent years. These concepts are explored from the perspective of The Lost Man. He is an elderly individual who, having become lost in his current life, has made a pilgrimage to his childhood home. Though not explicitly stated through the lyrics, he has begun noticing the first signs of dementia and in fear of losing the present, he has run to the past. Throughout the album he walks the property of his childhood home. He struggles to remember his family, the certainty of childhood, and the joy of familiarity. However, he is also flooded by deep regret for the accidental death of his brother. This event, only loosely alluded to by references to stones and broken glass, lead to his father disowning him and casting him out from his family.
The album ends with the lost man becoming fully consumed by regret and despair. He realizes that his past does not belong to him, as he cannot separate the sorrow from the joy, and because his mind is slowly unraveling from memory loss. He sees that his current life, and as a result his future, is nothing but an existence of continued loss. He cannot have the childhood he remembers, and the memory itself is unraveling day by day. He decides that if he cannot have his past or his future, he would rather die and take his history with him. He sets the house on fire and burns himself along with it, yielding himself to the cold and uncaring insects and animals that live in the surrounding woods.
Liminal rite does not tell the story of suicide and despair as a means to be macabre for its own sake. Rather, it is a call to find a sense of self that utilizes the best parts of our past to move forward. It is a reminder that regret is only valuable if learned from and left behind. As was eloquently said by the late composer Gustav Mahler, “Tradition is not the worship of ash, but the preservation of fire”.

credits

released June 10, 2022

Album Recorded by Nico Mirolla, Sean Lang, Miah Lajeunesse and Christoph Clöser.

Mixed by Miah Lajeunesse

Mastered by Ryan Williams

Track 3 and 10 - Feature pianist, fan, and friend of the band, Christopher Blaney's accompaniment

Track 11 - "Beyond The Passage of Embers" Features saxophonist Christoph Clöser (Bohren, Der Club Of Gore)

All Artwork was painted acrylic on canvas by Faith Veloro

Layout and Designs by Raul Esquivel

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Kardashev Tempe, Arizona

Kardashev is a Progressive Death Metal band focusing on themes of technology, selflessness, love, and altruism. Newly signed to Metal Blade Records, Kardashev is heading the charge toward solidifying the sound of "Deathgaze".

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