Part One
โYou know when you catch something from the corner of your eye, but when you turn, nothing. So you say itโs shadows, or wildlife darting out of view. Itโs the opposite with them. When you first see them, itโs always from the periphery, and when you look...I donโt know. They seem inevitable.โ
Part Two
โIt was my brothers day to hang and the whole town had come out. Not long after he stopped kicking it showed up, right there, in the middle of the gathering. Folks couldnโt scatter fast enough. I ainโt never seen one of them hurt anybody, but something about them makes people nervous. It just stood there towering over everyone, watching. Funny thing, it didnโt seem interested in my brother dangling like everyone else. Even after I turned to head home I could still feel itโs gaze burrowing into the back of my head. Folks been treating me different ever since.โ
Part Three
โIt wasnโt his fault, Gregor, that is. It did what they always do, appear out of nowhere. As if they have always existed in that very spot even if they wasnโt there five moments before. Anyway, Gregor was deep in his drink and came around with his wits all a mess and this โwatcherโ is standing right at his shoulder. So Gregor lashes out instinctually and his fist leaves this indent in the fabric itโs wearing, like a foot print in mud. The next thing I knew was my knees hitting the floor and a ringing in my ears. When I came to it looked like everyone in the tavern had suffered a similar experience, with the exception of Gregor who still lay out cold. He was in bed for weeks straight, thrashing and squealing. Inconsolable. He bit through his tongue at some point but he still kept on making just the worst sounds. When he finally succumbed, physicians were hungry to get at the corpse of a โwatcherโ victim. I heard when they opened him, everything inside was liquefied, just slowly melted away. Hell, what do you imagine that feels like?โ
Part Four
โIโve been all over and the tales are more varied than you might expect. Some say they stand twice as tall as an average man, others swear they come up to your waist. Two or three arms? Maybe none? Hunched under the dining table, standing knee deep in a lake, looming over the tall grass of the wheat fieldsโIโve heard โem all. Not one story sounds the same. Except for the headpiece. They all have that helmet with those cursed runes.โ
Part Five
โObservers? Thatโs what you call them? Maybe it depends on where you hail from. Iโve heard โem called watchers and lurkersโshades and haunts. Damn eerie no matter what name you hang around it.
โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ
Itโs funny, you attach a moniker to something with the intent of making it familiar or common place. I suppose itโs just what we do when we canโt figure a reason for something. We have to live alongside it, might as well give it a cute name.โ
Part Six
โI am the eyes of Father Grimoire.โ
โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ
โYouโve heard them say it too, right? I canโt gleam any meaning in it, but Iโll be damned if you can get them to say anything else. Not that you would want them to be more vocal. The sound of their words is like rocks tumbling in your mind.โ
Part Seven
โI have it here somewhereโ
Ahโ
Right, this one here is in poor condition due to its age, so Iโll ask that you do not handle it. The author is unknown but in this parchment they describe a structure of absurd scale that would appear to shift and rearrange itself at random intervals. Itโs obsidian walls appeared to have no seams and were unscalable. They also mention that it did not always stand were it stood, but rather seemed to conjure from nothing at some point. They directly call it the โWandering Archivesโ, whether this nomenclature was already established or a creation of the writer is unknown.
โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ
Most theories about the Observers cite this mysterious structure as their possible origin point, though any historical evidence of this is rare and mostly ancient.โ
Part Eight
โYou will have to excuse meโrecalling memory can be like wading through molasses nowadays.
The Grim Father? Whyโthat story was old when I was a young girl. I believe some people called him the Archivist or the Head of the Unholy Sermon. My favorite telling involved his exploitation of his followers in order to fund some dark researchโโtil one day he finds what heโs looking for and it drives him mad. After that he lived eternally in his dark fortress, performing insidious magics and rituals with said followersโbending and corrupting them. Ridiculous right? Well Iโve been hearing about these phantoms showing up where they have no right to. It gets me wondering about those ancient tales.
โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ
The thing about stories isโif they get old enoughโit gets real hard to pull apart the truth from the legend. If you donโt mindโIโm not feeling well all a suddenโโ
Part Nine
โItโs there! You see? The gap in the wall? Iโve been watching the changes every day since it showed up and Iโve never seen an opening before.
โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ
If you want to make it in we must be quick!โ
โโโโโ
โThis isโhow is it so big? It looks like the hall stretches on endlessly. My lamp light canโt reach the ceilingโand the books? There isnโt an inch to spare on these shelves and they span the length of the walls. This is absurd.โ
โโโโโ
โYou feel that as well? The subtle vibrations on the foundation? They feel patterned, like footsteps. Something about the air as well. It feels, thickโmalleable. Maybe we should turn back. Are the vibrations getting louder?โ
โโโโโ
โAre these the Observers? How many are there? I canโtโthe scale of this place is too much. Those damned footsteps! Why would a structure need to be this large? To house what?โ
credits
released July 8, 2022
Foreword to Grim Fatherโs Observer
Writing music for the better part of the last two decades, Chris Hudson brings his sophomore album under the Grim Father moniker, Observer, to flesh, masterfully blending industrial synth and prog-rocky drums in Classical-like interludes that, with their riveting swells and fairy-delicate arpeggios, would crack smiles even in the seasoned Tchaikovskyโall the while entertaining the goth with moments of hypnotic droning.
Perhaps more sonically desperate than its dungeon synth cousins, likely for Hudsonโs rock roots (very much at play here), a certain hopelessness grounds much of the record. Though the initial โThe Royal Pyreโ deliversโironically, in following the bitter gravity of an horrendous screamโdelivers what feels like a mirthful โwall of sound,โ coursing onward with a jocund synthline, a parade of snare-play, and a trombone so bright you can taste the warm brass, the tone of the album largely shifts subterranean for its remaining six-track-stay: โSorcerer at the Doorโ thumps maze-like about fuzzy synth and otherworldly reverberations; โFather Grimoireโ shrieks and sobs with some kind of reeling regret; and โBastards at Armsโ marches with the franticness of maddened pacing, and stews in the tranquil dizziness of its walkerโs inevitable fall. Wrapping the trappings of the dungeon synth genre so, said โฆ bleakness escalates the creepy musicality here to the lofty heights of CONTEMPLATION. Side-by-side, thus, Observer provides us with the rare opportunity to play about the fantasy of our supernatural pleasures whilst we bury ourselves beneath the overwhelming weight of our crumbling dreams.
- Andrew Verdekel
:: :: :: :: :: :: ::
All music composed, written, mixed, and performed by Chris Hudson.
Illustration(s) by Jordon Hudson.
Dedicated to M.A.L.
Abysmal Specter est un expert รจs chรขteaux : avec Curta'n Wall, il en dรฉtaille les fondations (... pour mieux les pulvรฉriser) et avec Old Nick, il explore les cryptes et les objets magiques qui s'y trouvent.
Il s'avรจre qu'il a un autre projet, Bloody Keep, qui lui permet de s'intรฉresser aux chรขteaux habitรฉs par les vampires. Mais on ne parle pas de ceux au teint blafard : le raw black metal de Cup of Blood in the Top of the Tower est passionnรฉ. Un premier E.P. qui donne la couleur : rouge sang ! Jordan Vauvert
La source, c'est le lieu oรน se rencontrent des symboliques en opposition : les malheureux s'y noient dans le mensonge qu'est leur reflet et les preux chevaliers s'y rรฉvรจlent ; c'est un รฉcrin de nature oรน l'on peut avoir audience avec le surnaturel. C'est justement l'univers choisi par Water Nymph dans Heroic Pond, son premier album : on y retrouve le mรชme dungeon synth marin avec cette fois plus de majestรฉ โ et on y entend les nymphes chanter et jouer du violon ! Une petite perle rรฉconfortante. Jordan Vauvert