THE DEVIL'S TRADE
THE DEVIL'S TRADE ”Vidékek Vannak Idebenn”
By Octopi Mills
Gleaning a bit from the promotional propaganda it seems the Mako fellow behind this project is on a liminal space and time craze, as it is mentioned in some notable detail. And from reading these things it seems there are some personal issues being worked out here. The opening song goes deeper into the heart of this character in the form of a chanting or channeling affair.
"Flashing Through the Lack of Light" gets even more personal into the character, and is of a very passionate nature; strong and individual. The song couples some basic structures and adds some vocal effects that somehow seem to convey an atmosphere. I am immediately at the feeling of even before listening that this is like a man opening himself up to show you his parts, something almost akin to not being in any control whatsoever of the affair and like being present at a therapy session or an exorcism of sorts. In this way, one is at mercy of Mako for the entire listening experience. and what sounds like a journey through some sort of wasteland desert on a pilgrimage somewhere. The man sounds a bit haunted on this trek and like he believes in what he is saying, thus making a deep hole to wallow in the mires of nearly endless but, unfortunately, finite places; places where you don’t want to drag the inlaws or out of state cousins to attend.
And I saw one of these relations- not of my own, but sham and foolish- come in and lean into a pool shot saying "Too personal, put on some old UFO to make it up to me." There's certainly not a cookout or cool air hike in the plans for this; seeing another relation not of my own now wallowing in a mud puddle and getting out saying "You brought us all the way to the mountains for this?" Another, leers from a camp and tent, unzipping it with his head out: "People need a vacation right now, that’s what they want." So I see them kick out the good fire and stamp on the coals before leaving me in a smoky encampment with stinging eyes and wet socks. This is what started happening as the play time wound on and down and around and out, and I wonder what powers it has upon others; these deep, selfish, personal treks that we make into the blue yonder and mountain-side line and I recall the master Poe: "O God! can I not grasp. Them with a tighter clasp?"
It is a very personal place the man is going and one can hear it in his voice, For passion he must receive the golden award; one has to give that to this man.