zer0hue
Angel's Love Slave



- Joined
- Jul 30, 2003
- Posts
- 916
I’m sitting in front of my computer with my headphones on and a smooth vinyl record spinning in the darkness behind me. What’s playing? A LP by sampler-extraordinaire (and fellow Ohioan) RJD2 entitled Deadringer. The song is Smoke & Mirrors. It begins with a menacing low synth hook soon enveloped by a chillingly bitter melody. Then, from unknown time, a voice manifests in a void of artificial sound. The words are dry, choked from a cavern of life heaped upon a skeletal frame. He sings of the longing and heartache only a man in the twilight of his life can comprehend. He sings of the rain, and lost love, and the pain of hopeful expectation. He sings from somewhere beyond comprehension of the sensory; past the visible spectrum of light, above the pitch of organic sound, lingering in the dreary playground of the spirit. The sounds of distorted brass echo through a vacuum of stale sound, captured and suffocated like a butterfly. Suddenly, a female voice penetrates through the harmony of noise. Is she a forlorn lover, calling to him through the darkness to fold inside her arms? Is she a mystical siren, leading him towards the treacherous shore of despair? These questions, like so many of our own, remain unanswered. The uncertainty is a callous barrier, erected to guard us from the ache of terrible melancholy. And so we let go of these imaginary lives, these thin paper dolls of ruin, and embrace the trance of lingering melody...



