" New Dominions"

 by Octopi Mills

With a name like Horseback, words like band titles can be dangerous on first impression, and I will not allow my fugitive brain to assert the fever that our ancestors must have experienced during withcraft trials...Though it is an inviting ceremony, it usually betrays one into maddening thoughts that are far off from the intent of the artists..

This seems to be a split with the mysterious bands of Horseback and Locrian, and perhaps the less i know the better, so I will choose to focus on this album and not try to profess any history. This can be dangerous, as all things are in the world of art. I will take it as the approach of a stranger to an old house site.

If it were a horseback ride, it would force the rider to slow down and experience the travel and the union of man and steed; that symbiosis of an authentic ecclesiastical mode of riding, or something of a Greek countryside at night, under a bleak, droning sky with dim stars, muted and corseted like our women once were. But the symbiosis would not be a standard one, and would test the team's integrity. In this there is the danger of bleeding the things together in mush. There is no hurry after all- what do we have to prove other than the journey of life? Die things must, however, and this is the decaying swirl "New Dominions" reminds us of- to stop and smell the miasma of rotten woods, and to be fooled by the fox fires only so far as in thoughts, free and anarchic as they are.

"Our Epitaph", comes through the speakers and decomposes before it was ever really constructed, with some mindless droning vocals of something that used to be a man before the war, and before he got lost in the sounds of his own inner gears and mistook it for the worldly music of machines; as if the things of this world were abstract.

Some artificial sun light comes with the first rays of "Oblivion Eaters" and there are vocals probably inspired by black metal ones, though i wonder if men could be channeling inner chaos demons at times, or thoughtless things that are like Castaneda's Mud men of conceptual lore. There is a haze over the song that hums like a morning sunrise, and the men perform the strings well, or could fool one's mind into believing this.

"In the absences of light" comes on like a tumor or a slow growth of mold on the listeners hippocampus, causing mild hallucinations of a depressive sort, and offers nothing to the society of men or their accomplishments abroad. It is like a sort of thick, black strap molasses that has sit and oozed for so long it doesn't resemble the initial materials from which it was devised, and it bubbles and mouths useless things that leads the prophet to strong drugs to silence the entropy it has caused. As it goes on it is like an old swamp painted by a suicide, and the colors are brown and gray in interpretation of the artist's mockery for a living place.

The final song is a remix of the first; the little sweetheart known as "Gift", and offers another mutation of something already slightly altered, but it breathes another mass into the form, and helps the little devil develop a spine to walk and a heartbeat to destroy the terrible mind that dreams these things to life. My conclusion is that it is worthy approach, if that it can be called, and a collaboration between two separate entities that have promise to cause men's brains to use themselves in slower ways, thus establishing the return to a single celled crawl along the ground, in the slime of where it could have all began.

I can only conclude that is horseback were a name that meant a ride, the horse is not a horse at all, nor the rider a normal horseman with normal needs. As if Chthonic ones were playing with human things for artistic sport.