I watched the words fall lovingly from your pale lips. As you spoke in a slow motion, I stood mesmerized and paralyzed before you. You would put your tremoring hand on my sweat-stained forehead - baptising and anointing me in a crimson, syrupy solvent. I could perfectly map out the pastel blues of your serpentine veins and the majestic, enlarged tendons that swelled and deflated with the movement of your haggard, gaunt hands. The stained cloth which served as your concealing gauze, would slowly start to unravel with every movement, exposing your bruised flesh. Your gaping wounds were visible; they would ooze murky blood and milky pus. Your fibrous ligaments, lacerated and split, could barely house your failing construction. Inching closer, I gasped in amazement at your level of functioning - your driving resolve. Speaking words of adoration through your tongueless and cracking lips, your warm and foggy breath traveled down the length of my tilted neck. Striving to fuse, amalgamate - my ingenious, intoner idol - scintillating, severed, serenader.
Mask Man, from Britain, creates turbid, misty witch house. Synths wail and screech while throbbing, pulsating beats flirt with aching melodies and distorted, subaquatic impish voices. The familiar, impeding sense of doom, calamitous intonations, crawls and creeps until it meets with its welcome destruction - an embodiment of the abraded and accepting. Uniting in mellifluousness, bedeviled kismet.
♫ Bonus: Mask Man - Wigi Boards
Get the whole set here.
♪ File under: dark, electronic, witch house, no face