Oh well, a r’n’r band road is often a hard one. Just surviving against all odds, you know. And by surviving, I mean living by its very essence: creating, playing, forward-thinking. You probably know the score.
That’s such a common situation, no big news here. Except that Septekh is Septekh, and that it has a Plan. Oh yeah, they initiated me to its arcana but to be honest I probably only get half of it. It’s beyond me. It’s actually beyond them too. The Plan has plans of and for itself – we just try and keep the pace. Tempo, it’s all a matter of tempo.
Now, I try and keep the metronome happy. As it happens, the BPMs are increasing right now. We’re still not sure exactly how, but those things which were in the making are not in the making anymore: they’re happening. I mean, new bursts of creativity to be unleashed. Unleashing them is the key thing. And if you thought we’d leave that to the chance, you’ve got another thin
Be patient Septekhians. Be with us. Yield yourselves to the Plan.
— Daddy Two-Hats. Management, silly headwear, and everything in-between – courtesy of The Staff.
This is the part of the process I enjoy the most (apart from the part where I’m on stage enjoying the full attention of you, the crowd, backed by the pig, the violent apparatus that is Septekh). This is the part where I get to watch my stupifyingly talanted colleagues in this dubious venture display their abilitys tracking new material. A stark reminder of why it is we do what we do. This is noise that needs to reach the ears of you, the crowd. We need to bring you this. It’s coming. The pieces are falling into place. I treat myself to a grim smile in the quiet night of the Dark Island.
Yours truly – LDY GRZNLS
..click image for video..
Time seems to be playing tricks on me. But how can she? She isn’t real. She is a dream.
She is a pilgrim in the void. Pathless. More dissolved and featureless than a forgotten, golden idea.
And here I am. A man of the people. Trying relate to you her words.
Pilgrim. Raise the flag on the other shore. Ride the storm for us.
Or we shall be lost.
The blue in the sky is mine.
Weariness of the wheel. The constant ridding of dead flesh. The constant nurturing of new ideas. New ways to stay. Death mingels with birth and it turns again. Grinding magnificently. Churning the life I choose over and over again to a pulp. A river of filth. In whose murky depths I search for treassures I will never find. Blood and sweat saturates the ground upon which I walk. And now I must be a source. Give myself to the filth. To samsara. To the fantastic wheel. Give myself to a Plan without purpose. Without gratification. Only me. Only you. Will remain.
No greater love. No greater fear.
Fuck you. Never leave me.
The blue in the sky is mine.
There was time that cold day to shoot some portraits against the east wall of the 508. Man these guys are getting older. Older and weirder. Looking good though. www.kjanowski.com
Magpies in the trash again. Something’s up.
I rise early these days. Call it growing old.
Kitchen clock is ticking. The deep yellows and reds and evergreens of the landscape outside is barely visible through the morning fog. I sip my coffee. A grown man learning new things. Currently enjoying shutting the fuck up and listening to time vaning and the quiet russling and grunts of feral pigs eating apples under the trees in front of the 508.
The Dark Island is a lonely place. Especially so in the season of dying that is northern hemisphere October. That is exactly why I make a point of not leaving this place if I don’t have a specific reason. Also why I don’t really like people to come all the way out here unless THEY have a specific, preferably pre-stated, reason for visiting.
Herr K Janowski can come whenever he likes. His eyes are reason enough.
He arrives at this sanctuary like a talkative gust of wind, have us running around the premises like a pack of schoolboys and leaves two frantic hours later with 96 of the best shots we’ve ever done.
I am painfully aware that we don’t ourselves have the capacity to invent and produce representations of what we are, accurate enough to make the Plan comunicable. Being a megalomaniac and a control freak, this is perhaps my greatest disappointment. The only way to ease that pain is to work with gifted people like Janowski. Moja miłość.
Love – LDY GRZNLS
Here’s to you Septekhians!
For your eyes and ears to experience, we bring you a live rendering of “Saving Graces”, as captured in May 2016 at Copperfields (Stockholm, SE). Spread the dark gospel and Give yourself to the Plan!
– The Staff
We hereby make transmission of a statement from the band, as a new session member enters while original bass player bids farewell:
“As many of you who have been at at our shows the last year might have noticed, Patrik Ström is no longer playing with us. The decision to leave was actually made quite a long time ago and both parties are in full agreement. Patrik will always remain a close friend and a source of inspiration for the band. Having been there since the very start of things we want to send him a heartfelt thank you for all the good times and wish him nothing but the best in his new endeavors.
The fine gentleman Victor Janson is stepping in to handle the bass as a session member for all live situations. Those of you who have seen him already know that he is more than capable for the job. He headed the call when we needed it the most and for that we are very grateful.
Whether Septekh will remain a three piece is yet to be seen. If you are interested and think you have something to contribute, feel free to send an e-mail to Loïc (Musica Diaboli Management): email@example.com
All the best!
– David, Nils and Staffan”
Domesticating strange, rubbery animals. A friend. Warmth. Course, wet, stone walls. Little pieces of masonry falling into my hair from great hight. Crumbling pictures. Pitted frescoes. Sails and faces arching overhead in the darkness. The animal squeaks. Definitely rubber. It’s a game. We chase them. Alarm goes off. Phone beeps. Dream fades. Pants on. Down the ladder. Zip up bag. Get in the car. Calm. Air conditioned. I am here. 04:05. Coffee and Imodium. Drive to Norway. We’ll show them something they have not seen before.
– LDY GRZNLS