Halation
1
Rock
Halation은(는) {albumName} 앨범에 수록된 곡으로 2000년 7월 6일일에 Botched Records에서 발매되었습니다.The Transmutations of Supposed Angels: Or Beings That Were Once Girls
발매일2000년 7월 6일
라벨Botched Records
언어English
멜로디에 강한 음악
잘 정의된 음악 패턴에 따른 명확하고 기억에 남는 멜로디를 갖춘 곡입니다. 이 척도가 높은 곡은 일반적으로 연주나 보컬 라인이 명확하고 기억에 남는 것이 특징입니다.
어쿠스틱 악기 중심
곡이 전자 음악이나 디지털 합성 음악이 아닌 어쿠스틱 악기(예: 피아노, 기타, 바이올린, 드럼, 색소폰)를 얼마나 많이 사용하는지를 나타내는 척도입니다.
발랑스
곡의 화성과 리듬 요소를 통해 전달되는 음악적 긍정성 또는 감정적 톤입니다. 높은 쾌감은 행복, 흥분, 희열의 감정에 해당하며, 낮은 쾌감은 슬픔, 분노, 우울과 연관됩니다.
춤추기 좋은 음악
템포의 안정성, 리듬 패턴, 비트 강조 등 여러 요인의 조합을 통해 곡이 춤추기에 얼마나 적합한지 정하는 척도입니다. '춤추기 좋은' 곡의 특징은 일정한 템포, 반복적인 음악 구조, 강한 다운비트입니다.
에너지
트랙의 강렬함은 템포, 역동성, 음악적 밀도에 영향을 받을 수 있습니다. 에너지가 높은 곡은 강렬한 리듬과 풍부한 악기 편곡으로 구성되는 반면, 에너지가 낮은 곡은 음악적으로 간결하고 느린 템포가 특징일 수 있습니다.
BPM128
크레딧
작곡 및 작사
Maximum Indifference
작사가 겸 작곡가
가사
Minus felt now the weight of his years as he tried to remember his
First visit to his grandfather's workspace. He couldn't clearly
Recall the excitement or the danger or the fear of being caught
There was only the vaguely familiar sensation that he had been here
Before, and the long hallway that stretched out before him leading to
The door of the studio somehow seemed as if it were a road he had
Glimpsed only once before, and in some fevered state. What little
Recollections of his grandfather Minus had, the brief and unsettling
Visits, the hushed and angry voices disembodied and shut away beyond
Door, blanket, pillow, and lid, were colored by the memories of
His long-discarded gifts. Grandfather's constructions, simian
Simulations, puzzling mechanical contraptions, were meant in earnest
To be as friend, companion, and confidant to a youth misplaced among
Others. Minus knew nothing of his grandfather as extropian, nothing
Of uploading consciousness, nothing of enhanced, augmented sentience
But the old man knew his grandson shared with him the same insatiable
Curiosity and the typical interrogatives of those destined to seek
The answers. It was with this knowledge that Minus's grandfather
Left this place, and with this same assurance that Minus would
Stumble across what had been set in motion. It would take years
The old man knew, but time itself was now irrelevant. Indeed, the
Years it took were heavy on Minus. He sat now failing to remember
Exactly why he was here now, alone in his grandfather's dim and
Silent studio. Then, as if on cue, something clicked. It all came
Back, rushing at him in scattered and disconnected impressions of
Cranial jacks, anthropomorphic representations of raw electronic
Data, and the unfiltered fears of a small child
From the silence then, in a voice from but not
Of himself, Minus spoke out to the empty room
I am apparatus. Let me show you what I have seen
Falling prey to the general inertia of the day
The first mark is always the hardest to make
The first crack in that safe silence I can't bring myself to disturb
A silence that tends to overwhelm mostly
There are words, questions above me
Glowing in the detritus stirred up by the day's events
They swirl like leaves complaining against the fall
Circling around me like debris in a whirlwind
Each a willing perpetrator in abrasive mists
And I choke on the dust
Out of nowhere, out of boundless grace and blessings
Forgotten in some chemical shift
They settle around me in a halo
A slow-motion melancholy that descends without apology
Overwhelming and infinite
In a pool of hope, I am face down
Awake to every ripple
Every disturbance and distortion
Every intrusion
The dead leaves are like memory and speech
Fallen from infinite branches of possibility
Their sibling roots and weeds hold me under
Looping in hypnotic array
Things change, she told me
Then to settle sideways and decelerate
With fleeting vapors of happiness
Perceived grace or accidental joy
I am on the brink of everything
Or so my speck of thought goes
It bleeds over, in and between
And dictates action
Within this singularity of conception is a vacuum of thought
Or a sinkhole of naiveté
Shame-filled and broken down, I cannot hide
But am carried from imagined whispers
Or made-up gaspsTo a place of all forgetfulness
The wood cracks beneath my feet
Though in timid steps devoid of caution
The boards speak to me in broken language
Go on, no one else will see
But I have seen
And to that which gives me strength
Unfold all my worry
Unfettered random run-on scrawl of consciousness
Contaminates the page
Corrupting utterly my threadbare comprehension
Nothing but virus now
Not even a chance to engage myself in anything more
Than imaginary conversations with my own kind
And the only thing that keeps me warm
Is the hum and glow of my machines
Too many words in the space between my eyes
None lasting long enough to register
Long enough to decipher
Their brother and sister images corrupt my memory
Leaking profusely and flashing blind
A momentary distraction
Virulent, nervous
Showing me those who call themselves friends
Not as I assume them to be
But as they truly are
Showing me horrors of faded persons
Where mobiles of infinite grace were not enough
And where we once stood smiling unhindered
Now beaten down, unlooked for
Showing me multiple infinite facets
Showing me the transmutations of supposed angels
Or beings that were once girls
One single moment of clarity
Everything distilled to one unspeakable singularity
Even as it crumbles away
Under the weight of your breath
So too the fragile apparatus of affection
Friendship, desire, lust, protection
Perseverance and forbearance
Under the weight of your indifference
Is strained but not broken
Bent but whole still
Bruised but smiling
Silent but knowing
Written by: Maximum Indifference
