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Dance You Monster To My Soft Song!

by Victory Over the Sun

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pinkytheent
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pinkytheent This album rises to the label of capital-A Art: a complex and constructed challenge awaiting your interpretation. The arrangement and assembly of the parts create a fascinating experience of blazing unexplored musical trails, keeping you on your toes for what the next movement might bring you and often surprising you with melodically idiosyncratic turns unlike what you have really heard before, while still having a sense of cohesion. Favorite track: The Gold of Having Nothing.
Metallurgical Fire
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Metallurgical Fire Victory Over the Sun continues to evolve and raise the bar with each album. The last two releases have been quite special. You are missing out if you don’t try this. It was definitely in consideration for my album of the year. Extreme music needs this kind of variety and vitality. Favorite track: Madeline Becoming Judy.
Jeff Wilson
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Jeff Wilson Black metal? nah. blackened progressive surf psychedelia. It's often beautiful, sometimes agonizing, always powerful. The horns throughout, along with the general composition, reminds me often of Ihsahn, one of my favorite artists of all time, and Victory Over the Sun is able to bring the same spirit of innovation into her music throughout this album. Favorite track: The Gold of Having Nothing.
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1.
If the reaching arm could only sprout feathers, her eyes entombed by the burning nothing, your rosehearted, faceless truth and your mouth, the begged-for hanging sword - she would cast herself in your image. If the reaching arm could only hold a lantern to this avenue of sighs. Veil inviolate, fluttering above the trench, veil gaseous, in dancer's loving tongue. If the reaching arm could only sit patient waiting for the flesh of memory to rot and decay, waiting for the train to leave the station in a billowing transmuted cloud, waiting for the stars to fall, waiting. If the reaching arm could only fray the looming shadow of the sun that heaven rotates upon her tender hip.
2.
WHEEL 04:06
I ALWAYS WANTED TO BECOME A WHEEL, GROUND INTO THE COBBLE, RUN THROUGH AND THROUGH BY AXLE AND RUN MY TONGUE OVER THIS CITY'S HEART. I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE BOUND BY FORM DESCRIBED IN LUSTFUL RADII AND BEAR YOUR WEIGHT ON MY EAGER NECK AND BEAR YOUR PLENARY SOUL IN THE HOLLOW OF MY THROAT DESIRE FLOWS OUT OF MY MOUTH THE SHADOW OF MY KISS STAINS THE PAVEMENT WITH BLOSSOM. I ALWAYS WANTED TO SUBMIT TO FUNCTION. I ALWAYS WANTED TO BECOME A WHEEL.
3.
From lines, from opal-drenched windows, from the white door - hesitations, fecund, mitotic. Stair - chamber - dream - engine - lust - corridor- exit - throne - return. Turn, turn! Draw form, from the endless, lambent flaw, whose teeth scrape death knells into stone, from the empty page.
4.
Whisper to the dancing graveyard of words immutable, laid threadbare: the non-self hewn from languor, the non-name drawn from light. Turn the endless figment, your hand's waver in lamplit memory, a psalm: the mirror lashed moribund to verdigris and rancor. Fill my lungs with amethysts, my hollow nouns with gales of smirking, flickering glass, of meaning condemned to ruin your mouth on my name. Emerald and ruby pared, fawned in fallen permanence. Heavensent in fabric flared, desiccate as ermine hence. Tower birthed by mirrored feint. Death blows by blows' recalcitrant cheeks these vacant pigeonhearted memories but the sun is an empty word, and your name is a field of poppies.
5.
(text by Cesar Vallejo) There are blows in life, so formidable... I don't know! Blows as from God's hatred; as if when struck, the undertow from everything suffered were forming wells in your soul…I don't know! They are few, but they are. they open dark gullies in the fiercest face and strongest back. Perhaps they are the colts of barbarous Attilas; or the black heralds sent to us by Death. They are profound abysses of the Christs of the soul, of some exalted faith that Destiny blasphemes. Those bloodsoaked blows are crepitations from bread burning at the oven door. And man…. Poor…creature! His eyes turn back, as when someone claps us on the shoulder; his crazed eyes turn back, and that he has lived forms a well, like a pool of guilt, in his gaze. There are blows in life, so formidable... I don't know!

about

(a note - this album does not utilize any microtonal tunings)

credits

released May 26, 2023

Vivian Tylinska - guitars, drums, vocals, synthesizer, accordion

Aki McCullough - violin (tr.3), additional guitars
Chloe Rowlands - trumpet (tr.3)
Oscar Abley - tenor sax (tr.3)
Shoshana Rosenberg - bass clarinet (tr. 5)

written and recorded by Vivian Tylinska
mixed and mastered by Aki McCullough at Nu House Studios
album art by Helvetica Blanc

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about

Victory Over the Sun Portland, Oregon

a girl who makes noise

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