This will be the last showcase for Skagos for a while...Mostly because I have backlogged a bunch of new Metal albums and it is hard to pick over the other (especially when they are as haunting as these wood wraiths). Whatever it is that lures me to Black Metal, Skagos has it. That fire, that spark, that Agalloch had when I first stubled upon them in my early days of dark discovery. It is this style, which some call "Cascadian Black Metal," that captivates me, pulls some string within that brings sorrow and happiness all in one. That mountain, timber magic that hides in the wilds, sung and strung by the likes of Skagos. Though I only showcase Side C of Anarchic, I have linked a video below for the whole album (because it is not complete without the rest and it is quite powerful).
This week is off to a wearing start yet this is the time to grip hard and let the strength flow. Do not allow these trials and tribulations stop you from being free and wild, surprising powerful when driven. May you grab this week and say "No, not I." Bring ruin and righteousness to bear and use them to forge yourself a pedestal of bone and blood of those who dare challenge you. Drink from an overflowing cup of mead, covered in sweat and dirt, tired and proud you shall stand and stare down the world...and it shall cower.
Roots thaw a spread their gnarled fingers
and find their way unto the heart of stone.
We may amble the earth on nimble toes once more.
Breathe, breathe deeply,
empty of excess, life is in abundance.
Hark! and exhale,
the heart beats onwards.
The dull glow in the eastern sky has wrenched free of horizons.
Kneel down and taste the ash and let our tongues spill soil.
Exalt of thine burrow, and cache furs therein.
Anew; absolve oneself with languid river tendrils.
I recall the dirge of Mabon, tumbling from our lungs,
as we carved a den within finality's rite.
But alas, Ostara is grace us with resurrecting rays.
With aching ague, stone become home.
In red ochre, flesh became bone.
My blood did then thaw and I beheld the glorious sunrise.
Ancient fables wrap their fingers around the mortal coil
and coax an axiom through the veil.
Raven may topple the monolith of cedar
but from its crumbling bark and sodden core
rises a new chute, feeding on those who came before.
From the dying heart will sprout a new seed.
We are feral once more...
THE MAD BARRON
The Source Of The Metal