This one is a dark and gloomy April. Last week (10th of April) I played a live show, which I recorded and am re=listening right now. It is more gruesome than any other stuff before. It’s as if the reflection of this never ending winter would have become sound / would’ve come out in sound.
And today I just stumbled upon some poetry by Bataille. Ok, I was actually looking for it, but I would not be able to explain why him, why now. But this is just what the sound felt like on the 10th:
Ce qui regarde dans ces yeux
Est le néant de l`univers
Mes yeux sont d`aveugles ciels
Dans mon impénétrable nuit…