Concessive

by Kaoru Nagisa

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01:00
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01:06
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01:33
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01:16
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about

Recorded by DJ Condon @ Little Man's Garage
Mixed and Mastered by Steve Roche @ Permanent Hearing Damage
Artwork by Kyle Rotta

credits

released June 25, 2013

Ted - Guitar
John - Drums
Erich - Bass
DJ - Guitar / Vocals
Rebecca - Vocals
TJ - Vocals
Chris - Vocals

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Kaoru Nagisa Annandale, Virginia

2012-2016
scream from nova/richmond, va

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Track Name: So It Ends
As it was in the beginning, so it ends. Nobody will be covered in decency.
Is the issue of shame, insecurity, and lust, or is it that people look
at people?
Noticing the ways that I am not others is the problem.
Envision a Perfect Continent when you're ready.
Track Name: Mirage
The sea is only rising, receding in dreams. Natural order is to subsume. We
briefly awoke in bodies that walk land. A mountain is as soon an
island as a valley becomes a city. None of these are home.
Track Name: Scraper
The view from the 8,000th floor is the most expensive and lonely suit.
This place is full when it's empty. Empty when it's full. Now, what of you?
Built of nothing but concrete, metal, and glass.
There is nothing to fall onto when city is everywhere.
Track Name: This Is All I Can Look Forward To
For once let the formless audience take stage and craft a show. Sing
from it's throat
as one. Let them not stop until their tragedy becomes comedy,
breath becomes a bubble to be burst in their chests,
their moon becomes their sun, their shape takes form.
Track Name: Empty Space
Turning a phrase like the captain turns his ship. My words are a virus
in the motherboard directing him to more empty space. Why couldn't I
just speak these things? I am a walking foreign sound. Daniil. Today I
wrote nothing.
Track Name: Transformation (Dirac)
Some songs say there is another world but I've also heard it's nothing.
A darkness slick with the sheen of emptiness. Some say it takes more courage
to deal with pain than to leave it and I've felt that. But add more
confusion in your wake.
Another spill. Flow oil, cover to the quick the nails that count the
blackened fish...64, 65, 66. Take us to the event horizon, through the
blackness.
Every question leads to pain. Every drained ounce runs a machine.
Every last thing coils to singularity.