”movements and transformations” consists of B sides from ”We Ate The Music Makers” and other new material, all re-purposed conceptually for a second act – I felt the need to tell of something new. It's an attempt at feelings of lack in uncertainty in love, in sex; and it's about growing. It also focuses on the need to wake up during the coldest of winters and realise the cruel importance of remembering how it is to wake up when the spring wakes up – taking off and soaring in the sky with the sun. In so called Movements and Transformations, this album takes a slower road to harmonies with a sense of closure. And if ”We Ate The Music Makers” was winter and spring, ”movements and transformations” is summer and autumn.
Two tracks from the ”movements and transformations” album are based on one track. In a way, it's an extension of ideas I had at that time, in the summer of 2018. ”Forked Daybreak of Black Cat” from ”Agrescologus: Prologue” was originally an audiovisual concept of a bleak spring dawn setting on an urban desolation, starting in a cold night but ending in the warm embrace of the sun, which one would climb to through the concrete city during its ascent. One movement of ”Forked [...]” – the sun rise, the all woken up – always haunted my mind, because it didn't seem finished, and it was one of my favourite melodies, yet – I didn't know how to finish it. And so, I develop upon the ideas it has brought me since I first synthesised it in 2017. The ”Butterleaves” demo from the autumn of 2018 is a related, but failed, attempt.
When the cold winds invite to the year's last great adventure, freer even than the summer's:
the slight warmth from the sun in its frayed and brown landscape, half alive, half something else; the winds present more to offer than all of the life odours of summer together. The rain is free and liberating, smelling not of burnt tar and sweaty planks, but fertile soil and the last rebirth.
The death of one season is equally saddening as the death of the next. The end of spring is akin to the end of its successor – because isn't it sad how the sun still tries to warm you; you feel it lifting your skin, but to no extent does more than that? Your back shrinks as the cold winds lick it: only where the sun shines is its domain now. For now is the season of autumn, and with it comes the distant sun. The wind of the North permits sail - it's death in life, it's absence in presence. The sun rays are now cold.
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