Looking up at the sky, freckled with stars
A village, frozen in time and space
Trailer parks, a land covered with scars
Well water that stinks of sulfur
1830, a founding of disgrace
Appleseed can’t save you
An unknown quantity of unmarked graves
Arrowheads beneath the waves
A sea of cornfields, river of filth
Post-industrial hellscape
Familiar ghosts
Familiar homes
Revolution of a landed aristocracy
Roots in the middle of nowhere
Town atop a hill, a view of nothing still
Palace of rust
Keeper of misery
Crystal caves, dolomites of Silurian age.
Asa Lake, a name obscured by indifference
Hallowed huts on stolen plots
An absentee genocide
The banks of the Blanchard River, overflown
Forgotten, now we sleep
My village is dying
Filled with old souls and the weak
Fooled by tyrannical despots
Led to the water, take a drink, then you’ll see
Drowned by our own misgivings
Fighting to speak
Redemption isn’t here, it’s not even close
Despite all my fears, the end is clear
Processions without hosts
Arrangements without notes
Banished by dust. Letting go
All my friends have left this forsaken hovel
Family buried next to Asahel
The mix of raw, brutal rage with beautiful melodies reminds me of fellow Native black metaler Ifernach, but obviously Ushangvagush is very much its own wonderfully twisted creature. Across the ravaged landscape a bleak wind blows, roaring with the voice of the place’s violated Manidou. He is coming for the leech-rot-larval-white settlers with heavy red fists, blazing yellow cat-eyes, and antlers made from the bones of those unjustly slaughtered. He is coming and his vengeance will not be denied. Dave Aftandilian