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Δευτέρα, 16 Ιουλίου 2018

Distorted Force "Curves of Sidereal Cosmos" review - Rockway.gr

DISTORTED FORCE: “Curves of Sidereal Cosmos”
Written by Ιορδάνης Κιουρτσίδης
Monday, 16 July 2018
Τρία EPs και δυο full length από το 2010 συν το νέο φρέσκο “Curves Of Sidereal Cosmos” από τους Θεσσαλονικείς Distorted Force, δεν τη λες και μικρή δισκογραφική συγκομιδή. Απεναντίας δείχνει ότι αυτή η μπάντα διανύει το peak δημιουργικότητάς της. Και το σημαντικότερο; Η συγκεκριμένη, εκτός από κορυφή δημιουργίας, είναι επίσης και κορυφή καλλιτεχνικής ποιότητας. Τι θέλω να πω;
Θα εξηγηθώ από την αρχή. Το concept “Curves Of Sidereal Cosmos” είναι ένας πανέμορφος δίσκος παλιακού αλλά και ασφαλέστατα ουσιώδους progressive metal, που αναμειγνύει τόσο τη λυρικότητα όσο και την death μελωδική βαρβαρότητα που απαντάς σε κυρίως ευρωπαϊκής τεχνοτροπίας σχήματα. Με πιο σημαντικό ατού θα έλεγα το υψηλότατο αξιομνημονευτικό πηλίκο του σε σχέση με το δαιδαλώδες του ακούσματος. Μια έκδηλα καταρτισμένη μπάντα που τα θέματά της είναι πολυσχιδή αλλά έχουν λογική αλληλουχία χωρίς να χάνεται η μπάλα, παρά το χρονικό εύρος στο οποίο απλώνονται οι – από μεγάλες έως και τεράστιες – συνθέσεις.
Πανέξυπνη riff-ολογία που πηγαινοέρχεται ανάμεσα στην τεχνική prog / power, την speedy – απολαυστική – μελωδική death metal και στην straight doom πλευρά (με μεγάλο μερίδιο της τελευταίας να ανήκει κυρίως στους παλαιούς Anathema και η πτυχή αυτή να συνοδεύεται και από γυναικεία φωνητικά) από τους Νίκο Φελέκη και Νίκο Χατζηγώγο, διακριτικά keyboards που δεν καπελώνουν σε κανένα σημείο τον metal χαρακτήρα από τον Μάριο Ιωαννίδη, έξοχο, διαβασμένο rhythm section, με τον drummer Μάρκο Διαμαντόπουλο να καθοδηγεί τις ταχύτητες μαεστρικά και πυκνές, πλουραλιστικές μπασογραμμές από τον Θάνο Παλλίδη.
Πίσω από το μικρόφωνο, ο Σπύρος Εμμανουηλίδης ο οποίος είναι εντυπωσιακός. Εύρος έκφρασης, πειστικότητα και θαυμάσια ερμηνεία, είτε στα καθαρά μέρη, στα οποία παρουσιάζει έντονη θεατρικότητα εγκολπώνοντας χροιές παρόμοιες για παράδειγμα του Jan Lubitzki των Depressive Age ή αυτή του Devon Graves των Psychotic Waltz, χωρίς καμία προσπάθεια επιτήδευσης, στα growls του δε, αναδεικνύεται συγκρατημένη οργή και μίσος, όσο και μια κακή, μοχθηρή εκφορά των στίχων που λειτουργεί με καλά αποτελέσματα.
“Barrows of Doom” με ακουστικό intro και Metal Church / Lethal / Fates Warning διάθεση αρχικά και doom συνέχεια, μου θύμισε αρκετές φορές τα “Crimson” των Edge Of Sanity, με πολλά επί μέρους Fates Warning και “αλλού” σφήνες (όπως αυτή από το soundtrack του “Νονού” - της ταινίας μανάρι μου, όχι του δικού μου) και εξαιρετικό power επίλογο, “Dreamworld's Forest” με παλαιών Psychotic Waltz / Fates Warning riffing και doomy γέφυρα, το ομότιτλο track το οποίο θα έλεγα ότι ανήκει στο χώρο του τεχνικού doom / death metal (με ένα Ulver-ικό άρωμα κυρίως λόγω των καθαρών εκφραστικών φωνητικών, με Dark Tranquillity-ική άποψη και φοβερά up tempo death metal σημεία), εξαιρετικό το “Tumulus” με τα Maiden-ικά solos και κλείσιμο με το μεγαλεπήβολο 20λεπτο “Raven”, με αλλεπάλληλα layers, διάχυτη Fates Warning ατμόσφαιρα, σαρωτικά death metal θέματα που φέρνουν κάτι από Mekong Delta μέσα τους και “στοιχειωμένα” back φωνητικά, ένα ολοκληρωμένο έπος.
Η παραγωγή με παρέπεμψε σε ανάλογες παραγωγές των 90's, έχει ένα live συναίσθημα και προσωπικά τη βρήκα ιδανική. Σίγουρα και πάντα σηκώνει βελτίωση αυτό το θέμα και ίσως με μια πιο “πλούσια” παραγωγή το “Curves Of Sidereal Cosmos” να ακουγόταν “σύγχρονο” αλλά είμαι βέβαιος ότι ίσως και να χανόταν αυτό το μοναδικό true prog feeling της εποχής που οριζόταν το είδος.
Ευχαριστούμε το rockway.gr για την κριτική του στο καινούριο μας album "Curves of Sidereal Cosmos". progressive metal ως ιδίωμα, παράγοντας ουσιαστικά – με τις Anathema doom παρεμβολές – κάτι εξίσου αυθεντικό που γραπώνει τo νου και δεν τον αφήνει να αποσπαστεί. Ευέλικτες συνθέσεις, άρτια εκτελεσμένες, έντονη προσωπικότητα και τελικώς ένα progressive doom / death κόσμημα. Επαναφορά σε αίτια αγάπης προς το ιδίωμα που χάριν της τιτλικής ονομασίας του, έχει υποφέρει τα πάνδεινα από τη φλυαρία και την επίδειξη τεχνικών δυνατοτήτων που απομυθοποίησαν όλο αυτό το εικαστικό ρεύμα. Απεναντίας, το “Curves Of Sidereal Cosmos” θα ήθελα κάποτε στο μέλλον να αναγορευθεί το ίδιο σε “μυθικό”. Του αξίζει και θα νιώσω δικαιωμένος για τους Distorted Force.

@Rockway.gr

Παρασκευή, 6 Ιουλίου 2018

Distorted Force, Curves Of A Sidereal Cosmos. Album Review. Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 9/10

Distorted Force, Curves Of A Sidereal Cosmos. Album Review.
Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 9/10
If you can have the best of both worlds, then why not seek out more than one flavour of jam to put on your toast, love with both intensity and feeling and if all works for you across the board, then meld the forces of the Progressive and the crash of symbolic Metal to the point where the boiling cauldron of the instantly creative overflows and destroys the path of ignorance with first class precision. For this once thought conceptual distorted force, only dared to be breached by the timeless Iron Maiden in Seventh Son of a Seventh Son or in the incomparable Queensryche, has more than come of age since those tentative steps.
Greece’s powerhouse of the genre Distorted Force may have started out as one the groups that you would have gone to see perform the searing memories of other Heavy Metal acts that made audiences tightly wrapped in the arms of nostalgia, but as Time has weighed the century up and found it wanting in stature, Distorted Force has become a band in which you could well argue holds its roots and its outlook fully in the camp of the British Progressive scene and the physical attributes of the Metal that saved the minds and emotions of thousands of impressionable music fans.
In their new album, Curves of A Sidereal Cosmos, Spiros Emmanouildis, Nikos Felekis, Nikos Hatiigogos, Marios Ionnidis, Thanos Pallidis and Markos Diamantopoulos converge ready to take the crowd and the newly interested on a voyage of self-discovery, an Odyssey-like performance in which new realms are explored as the Progressive element fuses intangibly with the Metal, like a hybrid machine, all glowing metallic shell, muscular and powerful, but with the agility of the story-teller woven through its pores and the heart of poet.
The tracks on the album Barrow’s of Doom, Dreamworld’s Forest, the album title track, Curves of A Sidereal Cosmos, Tumulus and Raven are not just muscular, they crack the listener’s mind and overthrow the negative allusion that some have when thinking of the concept album, this Homer like scribe journey is to be admired fully.
Curves of A Sidereal Cosmos is enthralling, a mighty step in the band’s evolution and one that paves the way to a different level of song-writing.
Ian D. Hall


Τετάρτη, 30 Μαΐου 2018

Distorted Force "Curves of Sidereal Cosmos" Storyline



Chapter I: 
Barrows of Doom




Her dark presence casts a shadow to this unholy ground...
Never had he thrown a glimpse upon her,
yet... the Dead Man is highly aware of the hellish aura that is embracing this nymph.
Here... upon these gloomy barrows, he roams...



[Dead Man]:                 “She comes inside our dreams
infects us with lust.
Swimming a universe where
dreams and shade combust.

But some resist
some wind away her mist.
Then she flies away
Searching her next prey”.

He stares at the desolated fields around him...
just a reflection of his own demise...
…she flies… she flies obscure wings…


[Dread]:                         “Burned , down and, forsaken...

                                                                     ...alone to this world...”


An old friend is now walking silently by his side...
A strong freezing breeze blurs their vision,
making every step heavier...
Looks that all hope... has vanished.
There is only one who can withstand these devilish mountains...
Only he who absorbs the darkness, can expel its effects...


[Dead Man]: “Heading forward against the wind”
[Dread, Narcotic Sylph]:              “He's on time again”
[Dead Man]: “Another year will pass us by”
[Dread, Narcotic Sylph]:            “When our fears descent”
[Dead Man]:  “Whistling something to our ears
[Dread, Narcotic Sylph]:                 “skies are painted red”
[Dead Man]:   Wave crushed rocks will
[Dead Man, Dread, Narcotic Sylph]:     someday turn to sand”.
                                                                  
[Dread]:                       “Leaving me here,
with a burden,
of everything,
you choose to leave unsaid”.



[Dead Man]:               “Heading forward against the wind,
I can smell the wrath of death.
Beware by her disastrous grief.
City's dust now lifts up in the air”.

And there approaches...
…Demon of the Cosmic Depths…

[Inner Demon]:            “I won't crawl,
I will ground your strong and monstrous wall.
Char your fane,
Let me introduce you to my friend:
                                                         Pain...”

This is the end of the line...
To move forward there is force they must discover within...
Realizing the very core of their existential nature.


                                        “Liberation and Rebellion ever bound chained,
days of salvation steam are not far away.
Your empire from our hands will soon fall astray.
Lifeless bodies in the streets like leaves they will lay”.


                                        “damned,
conformed,
dethroned,
entombed”.


                                        “Our demolished future lies ahead,
embracing our uncleaned deep plagues.
Beside these cold biers we wait.
We are turncoats but we’re not dead.

Even if our shadow selves were there,
We’ll stand our ground, won't leave again.
Are hearts are black and so they will,
we are undead by darkness led”.




The mountain is defeated.
Finding strength through the apocrypha of rage.
This first journey comes to an end... they thought.
There is madness in the air of these lands.
A small taste of what awaits.
Correlating contents of the mind once unexplored.
...a healthy reaction to a state of being, conceived as reality...
Lunacy... is an interesting perspective...




[Dread]:                         “I 'm lost
 in a void
that spins
round and round my head.

I sink in silence,
base of my torment.
Overwhelmed,
by my own defence.

Effects of blown smoke,
filth my cement cage.
Ambient where I,
probably have passed my very last days”.

[Dead Man]:                “No mission,
no handles of expression.
Unable...
but still protected”.


Following the light…
the star of Carmine gleams their path…
...majestic Rubical Skies spread in the horizon…
…carving a course of valour…
… a course of freedom…
…a long road to conquer the Shrine…
And so it begins…
…a quest to abandon this dreary realm…

…to reach…
…the Portal of the Seven Gates…


                  Chapter II: 
Dreamworld's Forest




[Inner Demon]: “No mission,
                              No handles of expression.
                              I raise defences,
                            but no one attacks”.


[Dead Man]:     “I’m lost in a void,
                             that spins on and on.
                             Unable to walk,
                             Don't know what for”.

Even the smallest, harmless evil will eventually grow.
Under convenient circumstances...   it shall rise to become monstrous...
...and inside these woods... monstrosity crafts horror...


[Inner Demon]:         “The seeds grows up high”
                                    “watered with pain”.
                                    “Head for the sky”
                                    “building this reign”.

The hideous scent of melting flesh...
Panic and exhaustion...
Breathing burns...


[Dread]:         “Heat’s still melting my world down, no sight of motion,
                         how had I end up like this? Ragged and exhausted.
                         In this system there’s no choice, but get in their line.
                         How more years have I to pass, can't find my way out”.


[Dead Man]:       “But
                              Still, how can you drill...
                                                                    ...into my soul”?


                              “Creation breaks down.
                                No one recalls
                                the world they were drown
                                naïve for its loss”.

Consumed by the forest, and into its shadows we shall march...


[Inner Demon]:     “Days will come when people won't need to remember your dark reign
                                 Eyes from corners record your moves, watching every game you play
                                 Come on, stand up, struggle, strike me, hit with all I can take
   
                                  Your chopped heads will be the price, my blood red walls will decorate
                                  I will be mortemous nightmare, till your souls in shadows lay”

Approaching a glade, they see a far raging sea.
Enormous waves caressing the horizon's line...
The curves of this sidereal cosmos are inchmeal unfolding before their eyes...


[Dead Man]:             “The wind pulls my hair back.
                                        The sea ejaculates her wrath.
                                        Creatures pass me by,
                                        like the last day I saw light.

[Dead Man, Narcotic Sylph]: Brainless but awake,
                                        drift and crawling to forsake,
                                        their passed physic pain,
                                        now their kingdom back they’ll take.

                                        Forests dark as hate.
                                        Shades and mourns they keep exhale.
                                        I know that I’ll break,
                                        I will soon be far away”.

Not out of the woods nonetheless... there is motion through the leaves...
Devilish creatures are circling them slowly...
Inner Demon steps forward...
The metallic sound of his drawing sword forces enemies a step back...


(Battle of the Glade)
[Inner Demon]:             “We crush
                                            with warmth.
                                             I plea
for strength.
No bless
from gods,
just pierce
and death.

We beset them
and slay the rest.
We eat the dead,
our war growls dwell”.

The wooden kingdom perish in demonic flames...
...out of the frying-pan and into the fire we run...


[Dead Man]:                   “In front of me burn
The fires of town.
I am still standing,
for that I am proud.

After the fall,
Demons are gone,
walking alone
but strange sounds chills my bones”.

Nearly cornered...
Armed undeads creep out of the mist...



[Inner Demon]:               “Their eyes like flames
From woods they crop up
now time to haste
to burke their sly trap”.

Stop!
This is a dead end.
Swords!


“Horned gods varnate my obscure birth
Formed to burn the filthy white reign
I am no more than a war puck
from my cradle designed to slay

In this world we have one master
who will force you to disaster”.


[Dead Man]:                   “In this war they’re destined to bow
show no mercy, strike your best blow”.

Blade against blade.
Blade against rotted flesh.
Congealed black blood spills upon trees and rocks...


[Inner Demon]:               “The battle starts
My safeguard
Is the faith on my god”.



[Dread]:                          “I am deadly hurt, I, have few seconds left
Till my corpse fall astray, till my soul fade away...”



                   Chapter III:
Curves of Sidereal Cosmos



With Dread wounded, our fellowship walks out of the Forest.
Where they expected ease, there is ethereal turbulence.
A spinning ambient disturbs their path.
One could never describe anything as terrible and impressive...
This cosmos... is elliptic.


[Dead Man]:           “Into the afterward,
into a cyclone wall,
vortex covers my sight.
I leave my past behind.

Our machinations rust.
Still we’re running fast”.

Their eyes, perversely shaken open,
gazed for and instant upon a sight
which no human creature could even imagine without panic,
fear and physical exhaustion.


[Inner Demon]:      “Paint yourself”.
[Dead Man]:           “Let your body led”.
[Inner Demon]:      “Feel the divine absence”.
[Dead Man]:           “Neither alive nor dead”.

Existence is indeed an irony, but the joke is on any form of being.


“Created for denial, through a...
Deconstructed trial”.

Ocean is more ancient than the rocks embracing it.
The ocean bed remains a void left unseen.
What there lies, can be reflected in the night sky.
It holds the secrets of the unknown.
Freighted with the memories and the dreams of Time.


[Dread]:                       “Sense of Time
is a cosmic curve.
Conscience of life
is a strange mislead.

Now I 'm lost
in this wayward sphere.
Constant frost,
and the landscape becomes clear”.

Creation is shattering.
The weight of their dying companion is slowing down their course.
Gravity changes polarity and the world is magnetizing upwards.


[Inner Demon]:         “Run”!

Struggling to overcome the ethereal chaos, what shall be done appears much clear.

                                   “Into the flow.
Emblem of Crow.
Driven away,
I will not bow.

I did not passed
fire and death
to intercept
this everflow.

Picture that's lost
through burning roads
unfolds a scar
driving me mad.

Can I prevail?
I am betrayed
from my own god?
I will fight back.

Memories run, flashback in my head,
with blackened dreamworlds that now are shred.
Moray scent, but how can this be?
We spilled them all, thought we were free.

Here they come, ready and strong
with luster shields, soon they will fall.
Why I should, hazard to fall for
the filthy sake, of these turncoats”?

And there is peace...
And now we can hear...
This is the music of the stars...
The only sound... gently... cracking the silence.



[Dead Man]:            “Choose to withdraw.
Godless,
and alone”

Laying Dread upon the black silk of starlight, they could almost feel the vibe...
The vibe of this vast, mysterious emptiness... grieving.
Fewer, they keep their course in this darkest hour...


                                 “Longing that this interminable route will soon end,
but no end line can be found or be seen anywhere”.

Through blackest night, a deep rage for the greater powers of this realm is growing steadily...


[Inner Demon]:       “Power of darkness will ease my torment.
Ever existed, great masters will fall that I swear”.

Just a glimpse behind...


[Dead Man]:            “All
I have seen,
pain I feel,
won't obstruct me
I will soon be healed”.

A horrific dark castle stands before them.
Just as soon they realize...
...good and evil are symmetrical reflections of one consistent entity...


[Inner Demon]:        “Now I 'm complete,
I know I'll defeat,
but that won't stop me to make demons bleed”.


                                   “Soon I’ll revenge.
My weapons are edged.
I'll bring you both down, the sky will paint red”.

Renouncing all masters, self-commanded, they enter...
That was the hour when both let out a mighty shout...

(Battle for the Shrine)
[Dead Man, Inner Demon]:            “No more am your seed”

Inner Demon growls.
The front gate shatters to pieces.
The only light there was, came from hundreds of never melting candles...
Possessed corpses... countless...
Armed to the teeth... marching against them.
Shall the bloodbath begin.
Skulls... body parts... land to a black blooded ground.
Not such pitiful creature, alive or dead could ever stand against the Fellowship.
Piles of corpses form...
Denying slavery... fighting to be masters of their own existence...
...to claim the Shrine...
"Through this Plutonian realm... Charge and Slay"



  [Inner Demon]:    “This combat feels like,
they all wait in some line
to be slayed from my hands
half of them are dropped dead”


                                    “I storm
Inside
They’re more
Let's strike”

Suddenly, new devilry appears.
Flying but cumbrous demons hit their wings with great force,
shaking brutally this misty dark place...



                                  “Floor now is filled up with
corpses and bloodbath
I see no other, I enter
a dark path”

Their path leads them in a vast hall,
so high, its end cannot be seen.
There stands the Portal of the Seven Gates.
There he awaits.
Guardian of the Shrine.


                                “There's his imposing black throne
He's standing under the dome”


[Stellar Reflection]:  “Descend and shattered my home
Now it is time we draw swords”

Gargoyles come to life.
Inner Demon slays his way through, heading for the Guardian.
Dead Man takes a strong handful of claws in the face.
An unknown morph flies through the fog.
Her azure wings vibrate the aether.
Unexpectedly, power breaks in his hands.
An ancient witchery falls upon the battlefield.
The Guardian draws an enormous bow against Dead Man.
The arrow lands into its target's chest with brutal force.
Inner Demon shatters to rocks the last of them.
The statues are spent.
He strokes his wings to meet the Guardian Lord.
The metallic sound of drawing sword echoes inside Dead Man's head while his vision becomes blur.
He falls to his knees.
The two devils raise their swords ready to destroy.
It was the very moment when their blades met,
Space-Time continuum created a massive vortex.
It was the time... when Dead Man whispered his last breath...



[Dead Man, Narcotic Sylph]:              “Clench of fist
[Dead Man]:                                           crescent of heartbeat
[Dead Man, Narcotic Sylph]:                nightmare's bottom
[Dead Man]:                                           I am home”


                       Chapter IV: 
                Tumulus





Consciousness spins in disarray.
Vague are the divinations between illusion and reality.
The original horror of any physical life form... speaks to thee...
What one may think of his final resting place... could be just...
...a Dead Man's Dream...



[Tumulus]:               “Closed into me
but your ghost is free
Eyes open but you can't see
you cannot move and flee”

Awareness should burden only the living.
Yet... here lies the consistency of biological expression.


[Inner Demon]:       “Plagues taint all over thee,
pain won't make you weep
no matter how much you bleed.

Your true scars are much more deep,
so tell me how does it feel
now that you’ve become a seed”?

The core of philosophy confess that Death,
may be not more than an instrument,
corresponding to Entropy.

[Tumulus]:                “For, I shall be your home
Within me laid, and alone
Drown, through shades and mourn
The ever-flow awaits...
                                 … I am the tomb”.

The Elliptic Cosmos holds the coverlet, beneath which it's dead
dream lightly, walking through the Seven Portals.
Eventually withering... transcending all chemical proportions.


[Inner Demon]:         “Rot... away...
you hold all Time ahead to decay”

Her dark presence casts a shadow to this unholy ground...
Never had he thrown a glimpse upon her,
yet... the Dead Man is highly aware of the hellish aura that is embracing this nymph.



[Inner Demon]:          “She flies”
[Tumulus]:                  “with her strange blue wings
from the crystal seas
darkened and released
came for thee, now...”

[Inner Demon]:          “...feast”
[Tumulus]:                  “Breath deep in her mist
let her feed you grief
summon her with screams
to your sleep of dreams...”

This is her touch…
As he felt floating on thin air…
…a gentle breeze lifted everything higher…


[Tumulus]:                   “Now fall, be born again...
                                                                  … take her hand...
[Tumulus, Narcotic Sylph]:                                  ...don't you dread...
                                                                                            “… let your soul led... ”


“Daylight leaves its last breath,
and we are lost in dark clouds.


You kept old forsaken cries deep inside…

Our mental flame spills upon melodies.


At night you were flying,
with dawn light you fell…

I felt your dying breath…
...piercing deep, into my heart…

And as I hold you dearly…
…shall my tears ease your weary soul…
…as they fall upon your eyes…



As far as I have strength I will carry you…

Till my broken body shatters down…


And if it must… let the cosmic slaughter take us both…


The rain pours down heavily…
…and still… there is peace…


This shall be our last kiss my love…

Let it be…

 …our dead dream…”


                            Chapter V: 

                     Raven



Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!