Hey there tiny little friends! How’s your week been kicking so far?
If you’re anything like me you had to make a jello brain and take it in to a group of schoolchildren to teach the importance of helmet safety. IF you weren’t as privileged as I, you’ve probably been slogging through the drudgery of this week fucking around until the weekend comes and you can unwind from all the fuckery.. with more fuckery.
Anyways, as you may have noticed, this Trash/Thrash Tuesday is actually taking place on a Wednesday because our Cannibal Corpse and Obituary show report had to go live yesterday. I couldn’t sit on the photos for any longer. And let me say, good decision all around.
That said, since I knew you fuckers would miss your weekly rant with me, I figured I would do up this piece anyways. This week is a milder Thrash piece, but a Thrash none the less, with wovenhand’s “Truly Golden”.
For those not in the know, wovenhand is the brainchild of David Eugene Edwards, formerly of 16 Horsepower days. The music is dark, weird and distinctly holy in nature. Definitely not the type of music I would normally feature, but I have some massive respect for how this music makes me feel. I might not agree with the message, but god damn it, that is some beautiful noise. And I mean, let’s be real here, it’s not like I agree with a lot of the garbage spouted off in the other music I listen to, you know like murdering people and stabbing them and what not. Further, David Edwards is a real cool dude. He runs his own facebook page for wovenhand and posts some wonderful photos of Native American themes and will occasionally intersperse some odd bits of scripture in there. This is also something I dig. I enjoy music that makes me FEEL, and this is something that has always been accomplished by wovenhand. It’s just so different from anything else out there.
I hope that you too, can dig it. Life is a grave after all, so dig it.
I wait for her to speak for me
The rule is truly golden
I am spoken for
A drifting day on my own
he does chastize these bones
He gives a womans touch
A drifting day alone
He does chastize his own
He gives a womans touch
We are all pleased to dwell
With me
With me
Out of their goodness
And over my head
A burning coal of kindness
Over my head
Over my head
I spin with the world
But it is no help to me
I sleep in this chair like a stone
A yellow flower has grown
He does chastize his own love
He gives a womans touch
To spin with the world
It is no help to me
I walk the creeking floors of this home
Where a yellow flower has grown
He does chastize his own love
He gives a womans touch