Crossbearer
Sergio
vinyl 5"
Crossbearer - замечательная команда из Атланты, что в Штате Джорджия. Образовались в марте 2003 и изначально были известны как The Twilight of Idols. Предположительно, новое название взято в честь одноименного альбома металкор группы Starkweather, известной и попклярной в далекие 90. Играют просто шикарную музыку в духе Misery Signals, Shai Hulud, It Prevails и подобных. Атмосферно, красиво, мелодично, напористо, с переходами на меланхолические проигрыши. За время своего существования группа выпустила целую кучу синглов, демо и пару ЕР, которые щедро предоставляют скачать на майспейсе. Сейчас группа подписалась на одном из лейблов (на каком, пока скрывают) чтобы выпустить полновесный альбом, так что будем ждать!
Состав:
Jacob - гитара
Richard - вокал
Sean - ударные
James - бас
Kevin - гитара
Дискография:
2004 - Honesty and Heresy EP mediafire.com
2006 - Demo mediafire.com
2008 - Transgressor EP
Ocean of Ice
Do moments one by one fall into line, thus forging the passage of time? Or is there no point in time that does not coexist, only causation spanning infinite abyss? Now consider tense distinction is subjectivity, thus the future is no cause for anxiety. If time flows less like a river than an ocean of ice, let us live our lives with renewed vitality.
The Threat of Determinism
The death of the ghost in the machine brings the redefining of mind and being; and carries a sure consequence for man's freedom of will and all his knowledge both presuppose the fact of mental causes as matter in motion is enslaved to the laws of nature--cold and indifferent, deaf to our prayers, blind, mechanistic--so we often look beyond the pure physical to account for our minds to escape the implication we strive to ignore and brush aside. This is the threat of determinism: It will take the world we know and burn it to the ground. Where's the hope in reductionism? It will turn the world we know into a barren lifeless void. Absence of freedom is the birth of control. Only if actions are effects can our choices be causal. We must take care to distinguish reductive explanation from the vices of reductive elimination; and pry ourselves from the grip of dualism so that we may see the world for what it truly is. We lose no life to physicalism but the undesirable, the absurd and nonsensical. Man's freedom of will is an illusion, and accident of evolution. The complexities of consciousness result from property emergence. The death of the ghost in the machine is the consequence of the absence of a divine being.
Posterchild
My lungs won't work. they'll kill me soon, and mine is the face of euthanasia. My last year's changed everything, I take it back and long for what I've lost. But my last year's been all the same: no one will help, no gods to heal, now this is my fate. My lungs won't work, they'll kill me soon. It's too late, I'm too sick. I'll leave with you these words: Find what your soul can most deeply love and give yourself to it.
Sense and Goodness
An empty throne: No monarch governs, and the heathen rise to their (own) seats of judgment. Giving themselves to the darkest desires, they've made their bed in brimstone and fire. In such a way, you claim that I have no sense of good, no care for faith. Forsaking God have I given myself over to corruption and depravity? If we act without fear of damnation is there an ethic worth living by when we go to ashes the same when we die? The values of sincere compassion and integrity bear intrinsic worth providing a standard to live by and to judge the actions of men in this life. / A loved one falls ill; cancer takes over. I stand at her bed with no help to offer. As she's taken by the darkest disease she lays in pain without relief. In such a time I claim that there is no kind of good, no sign of God--just mortal flesh engaged in survival until the day we fail in our struggle; without purpose behind it all. I held her hand but said no goodbyes in the hope she could fight and refuse to die. After I left she stopped breathing and death finally set in. I held her hand and said no goodbyes but I'll go to ashes the same when I die. / Her death enforces my belief life is transient, fragile, and weak; an example of nature red in tooth and claw. Her death is evidence of tragic flaw at the heart of man's composure. Her death is evidence of incompetence on the part of man's designer. Though my knowledge is finite I can stand and judge with confidence one with the power of God could not be content to stand by and do nothing. There is a common moral fabric stitched into the heart of our awareness that ensures not one of us would hesitate to end such suffering. But my compassion cannot possibly surpass that of God; by his lack of action we know we are alone in a godless world. Her death is evidence of tragic flaw at the heart of man's composure. Her death is evidence of incompetence on the part of man's designer. Though my knowledge is finite I can stand and judge with confidence one with the power of God could not be content to stand by and do nothing. Her death enforces my belief life is transient, fragile, and weak; an example of nature red in tooth and claw.
Transgressor
You bait the tombs of honest men with deceit; white-washed sepulcher, pharisee, traitor. You are the transgressor. Still you try to make me your proselyte though you've poisoned every redeeming aspect of your faith with the hypocrisy of a serpent. Void of humility. You encourage my failure to cover your own. Self-righteous coward; with lies you gain the trust of many but when backs are turned you sow division. Using words as daggers you carve into the spines of those who placed in your their confidence; and so reveal the blackened heart once concealed. You bait the tombs of honest men with deceit; white-washed sepulcher, pharisee, traitor. You are the transgressor. Repentance can never erase the past. So be mindful of your actions for they're what last. This I'm sure of: The hands that help exceed the hands that pray. Your foolish deeds hide not behind your foolish cross. The blood of Christ cannot justify the blood that you draw. Forgiveness is no substitute for the building of character--and this you lack. The lips that curse expose the lips that pray, and yours betray you.
Do moments one by one fall into line, thus forging the passage of time? Or is there no point in time that does not coexist, only causation spanning infinite abyss? Now consider tense distinction is subjectivity, thus the future is no cause for anxiety. If time flows less like a river than an ocean of ice, let us live our lives with renewed vitality.
The Threat of Determinism
The death of the ghost in the machine brings the redefining of mind and being; and carries a sure consequence for man's freedom of will and all his knowledge both presuppose the fact of mental causes as matter in motion is enslaved to the laws of nature--cold and indifferent, deaf to our prayers, blind, mechanistic--so we often look beyond the pure physical to account for our minds to escape the implication we strive to ignore and brush aside. This is the threat of determinism: It will take the world we know and burn it to the ground. Where's the hope in reductionism? It will turn the world we know into a barren lifeless void. Absence of freedom is the birth of control. Only if actions are effects can our choices be causal. We must take care to distinguish reductive explanation from the vices of reductive elimination; and pry ourselves from the grip of dualism so that we may see the world for what it truly is. We lose no life to physicalism but the undesirable, the absurd and nonsensical. Man's freedom of will is an illusion, and accident of evolution. The complexities of consciousness result from property emergence. The death of the ghost in the machine is the consequence of the absence of a divine being.
Posterchild
My lungs won't work. they'll kill me soon, and mine is the face of euthanasia. My last year's changed everything, I take it back and long for what I've lost. But my last year's been all the same: no one will help, no gods to heal, now this is my fate. My lungs won't work, they'll kill me soon. It's too late, I'm too sick. I'll leave with you these words: Find what your soul can most deeply love and give yourself to it.
Sense and Goodness
An empty throne: No monarch governs, and the heathen rise to their (own) seats of judgment. Giving themselves to the darkest desires, they've made their bed in brimstone and fire. In such a way, you claim that I have no sense of good, no care for faith. Forsaking God have I given myself over to corruption and depravity? If we act without fear of damnation is there an ethic worth living by when we go to ashes the same when we die? The values of sincere compassion and integrity bear intrinsic worth providing a standard to live by and to judge the actions of men in this life. / A loved one falls ill; cancer takes over. I stand at her bed with no help to offer. As she's taken by the darkest disease she lays in pain without relief. In such a time I claim that there is no kind of good, no sign of God--just mortal flesh engaged in survival until the day we fail in our struggle; without purpose behind it all. I held her hand but said no goodbyes in the hope she could fight and refuse to die. After I left she stopped breathing and death finally set in. I held her hand and said no goodbyes but I'll go to ashes the same when I die. / Her death enforces my belief life is transient, fragile, and weak; an example of nature red in tooth and claw. Her death is evidence of tragic flaw at the heart of man's composure. Her death is evidence of incompetence on the part of man's designer. Though my knowledge is finite I can stand and judge with confidence one with the power of God could not be content to stand by and do nothing. There is a common moral fabric stitched into the heart of our awareness that ensures not one of us would hesitate to end such suffering. But my compassion cannot possibly surpass that of God; by his lack of action we know we are alone in a godless world. Her death is evidence of tragic flaw at the heart of man's composure. Her death is evidence of incompetence on the part of man's designer. Though my knowledge is finite I can stand and judge with confidence one with the power of God could not be content to stand by and do nothing. Her death enforces my belief life is transient, fragile, and weak; an example of nature red in tooth and claw.
Transgressor
You bait the tombs of honest men with deceit; white-washed sepulcher, pharisee, traitor. You are the transgressor. Still you try to make me your proselyte though you've poisoned every redeeming aspect of your faith with the hypocrisy of a serpent. Void of humility. You encourage my failure to cover your own. Self-righteous coward; with lies you gain the trust of many but when backs are turned you sow division. Using words as daggers you carve into the spines of those who placed in your their confidence; and so reveal the blackened heart once concealed. You bait the tombs of honest men with deceit; white-washed sepulcher, pharisee, traitor. You are the transgressor. Repentance can never erase the past. So be mindful of your actions for they're what last. This I'm sure of: The hands that help exceed the hands that pray. Your foolish deeds hide not behind your foolish cross. The blood of Christ cannot justify the blood that you draw. Forgiveness is no substitute for the building of character--and this you lack. The lips that curse expose the lips that pray, and yours betray you.
- Опис
- progressive metalcore/melodic hardcore/post-hardcore, Atlanta, Georgia, USA
- Країна
- Сполучені Штати Америки
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