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Ruins

by Spiral

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paul rote
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paul rote Deep , complex , and beautiful modern prog .
Very difficult to describe in a couple sentences.
Bucky
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Bucky Strangely epic and most certainly intriguing heavy and trippy stoner metal. At times you're transported into a Pink Floyd dimension later to be dumped into a vortex of fuzzy riffs on the other end of time. This is truly unique and a band that deserves more attention. I haven't got to following along to the actual concept yet, as the music is so easy to drift away and get lost in. Favorite track: The Capital in Ruins.
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Beyond the Edge of Time In a city as old as time, beneath layers miles deep, a young man slaves away fueled by great ideas. And even though he’s scared, he uses himself to test his small machines capable of granting life And he can feel the change as he is reborn, cell by cell and thought by thought. Do you want to live forever? Do you want to see what lies beyond the edge of time? Shed this mortal coil and let me show you the way to eternity. your life is shadowed with fear. mortality is a veil that we must destroy. So close your eyes relax and come with me. But the change is too fast, the pain too intense so he changes the mixture and brings it to the people. And he’s hailed as a hero. The savior of the people until they all start to die. But his own body, filled with a different mixture, merely sleeps. Waiting for the world to be safe once more.
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The Art of Our Dwellings Houses fall in on themselves and pavement cracks and everything we built is pushed aside as nature reclaims her throne. There’s a tower built high that blocks the sun and animals roam free through stores and homes. And abandoned subway tunnels hide packs of dark creatures. I’m alone here. I’m alone here. So our dwellings are all that’s left to represent us. Every small house is a statement of things long gone. How could this happen after everything I’ve done? Is this my fault?
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The Capital in Ruins On a cold spring day after twenty years of sleep he finally woke. He washed his hands in flowing waters and started back home. His arms were tired and his hands were cold but his feet led him on. Everything looks so familiar. could this broken place be his home? His tired eyes take in the ruined landscape. And he’s not quite sure if he’s awake. Where have all the people gone? And where were his machines when everyone lay dying? A bird’s lonely cry breaks the silence then fades away. while the buildings broken faces stare back at him. And he sits quietly and watches nature creep over his city while he tries to maintain the shambles of his life. During his first week he mourned his lost people and searched for life. With collected remnants he rebuilt his house and time marched on. His heart it ached and his mind went wild but his feet led him on. Everything looks so familiar this must be his home.
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The Memories Speak (Senda’s Song) Even though the walls of our house have fallen and leaves carpet our floor, you insist that I stay. You insist that I stay. You forced my image onto every wall and my words are etched on every rotting board. On every, on every rotting board. Your laced fingers are steel bars. And your doting mind is a ball and chain. You’re stuck here in this lonely place please don’t force me to stay here with you. Don’t force me. Please don’t force me. Your quiet contemplation causes only pain. And your obsessive recollection serves no end. So lock away my memory and set us both free. You are free to go on living, just let me go.
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Without Others now the houses are unstable so he has to build his own. And the food is all gone but the ground can produce. And he remembers every piece of food he ever threw away. And he’s haunted by all the clothing he used to ignore. And slowly, day after day, he begins to hate who he was. And he can never go home. And she’s gone forever. And he can’t refuse this new life he’s been given. but his eyes are open to every small change. And his heart it breaks with every passing day. And he can’t help but to wonder aloud if this punishment has gone too far. And without others he can’t quite tell if he’s really here or if this is all something he’s imagined. And he’s forced to eat old memories and lick his greasy fingers. And every morsel is so empty and his stomach grumbles after every bite. But his heart fills, drop by drop, as he relives his old life. But deep within the decayed old safe he finds a sealed container that holds the blueprint of the life he created and later destroyed.

about

In 2011 Spiral released the Capital in Runs, the first album in a trilogy of releases centered around a scientist named Rip. Spiral was a young band when this album was released and the members have often looked back at this album and wished they could’ve done more. Perhaps taken more time. Well, now they have! This is Ruins as it always should’ve been, including fully flushed out songs that were scrapped from the original project. The songs are almost completely rerecorded and I guarantee you’ve never heard them like this! Enjoy!

Rip liked diseases. He didn’t like what they did to people, but he could appreciate the strength and brutal beauty of their operation. He liked diseases the same way he liked machines. These were his hobbies. Diseases and machines. He spent most of his life focusing his studies on one or the other and grew up to be an unremarkable scientist. Unremarkable, until he mashed his two favorite things together.

After years of research he created a machine, small as a disease, able to infect organic material and change it on a molecular level. With this small invention he had cured death, in theory. He had to test it on someone. Ethics forced him to inject himself. The shock to his body was painful and psychologically terrifying, but he lived through it. Within a few hours he had complete control of his molecular makeup. He could program the machines to make him look any way he wanted. They kept him in top physical shape and repaired injury to his body instantaneously. Rip’s strange hobbies granted him immortality.

Because of the shock to his body during the change, Rip decided to make the mixture a little weaker. The next person he injected had a mild, almost comfortable, changeover. Within the next three years everyone on Rip’s small planet had taken the injection. Five years later the problems started, and within ten years everyone on the planet was dead, except Rip. The problem was in the dosage. Rip’s dosage was so strong that his body never had a chance to fight back, but when he lowered the dosage, the machines had to mount a battle against the host’s regular defense mechanisms. Unfortunately, the result was death.

Once the people started to die Rip’s machines instinctively shut down all of his bodily functions until all danger was past. To him it felt like he was asleep. He woke up twenty years later to an old decayed world.

credits

released August 7, 2017

Spiral, at the time of this recording, was:

Bill Hatfield - Guitar, Keyboard
Aaron Frale - Guitar
Chris Boat - Keyboards, Bass, Vocals, Guitar
Denzel Thompson - Vocals
Senda Linaugh - Vocals
Casey Mraz - Guitar

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Spiral Albuquerque, New Mexico

Chris, Aaron, and Bill, the three constant members of Spiral are desert born. They played childish games amongst dunes and cacti and now, their music breathes sand.

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