Mar 17, 2010

Steal the Light / Spirits And August Light


WRITHEN
DEATHWHITE
THE PERFUMED GARDEN
AMOR TONIGHT
CURE A WOUND
THE EMPTINESS OF SPIRIT
WASTREL
SON'S THOUGHTS
IT SHINES


These two records have the same intensity, even though they sound quite different. STL (our fourth demo ”Wastrel” re-recorded) has an atmosphere of weakness and hope. There is a sense of something warm in the songs. Maybe it's because of the candles lit for Giordano Bruno. Part of it is literally crazy, but we all know that in search of clarity the way is lost in itself. Being one of OG's most important releases, it certainly deserves to share the lot with our first full-length album. Those were the days. Good, bad and ugly spirits came our way during the year 2002. And there was some honest bullshit on the road, too. Despite our initial efforts and wishes SAAL ended up sounding helplessly unique and very bitter-not-sweet (instead of a beautifully nostalgic ride around teen spirited golden ages). Amor had lost Fati and love had gone like smoke in the city aflame from within. There was less hope. But then again, even a fool's hope could be enough. So we let the bells ring and tried to forget all perverse offerings. When we recorded SAAL many things were not what they were supposed to be, but the band managed to keep it all together. The outcome was one small dirty piece of X.X.X.X, almost like a matter of life and death in the wrong place. The boots may be old and broken, but their story is new and bright.
- Written for the August 2008 release


WRITHEN

"To get out of smell of mould,
To get back on your feet again
Let every god have his day"
And again the leather is black
As I lie on fragments of glass
More broke than ever, No more ti amo
Trying not to hate the guts we all have
'Cause I got the guts and I feel the guilt
Now we still hate it when we play the part of the Greek
Vanhaa suolaa siihen haavaan joka vuotaa edelleen
And who swore not to let it out in here
Just to see the boots rot away in one's feet
So better ring the bell of whoredom if it wants to ring,
Or just forget all perverse offerings
The writhing stays the same
Even if you got the guts and you feel the guilt
Now we still hate it when we play the part of the Greek
Vanhaa suolaa siihen haavaan joka vuotaa edelleen

Minne sattuu ihmiseen

Vanhaa suolaa siihen haavaan
Joka vuotaa edelleen


DEATHWHITE

Free enough to see what's going on in there
A man has naught if not himself, Not an island
Just the son of a gun
I'm sure you knew I ate it up to spit it out
In blinded mute ground, Gasping for words
Buried
Yes, you saw the lust for vengeance

I've had my fill, The share of losing
I've had my fill, The share of losing

The years in these worlds,
More than I could feel
Anywhere
To get it crystallized at last
And when they all speak at the same time
They make me wonder what on earth in hell it was
And was it wise to seek release
in and through ex stasis
Did I face it all, Standing
With the 'love, laugh, cry'
To say the things I truly feel
I've had my fill, The share of losing

THE PERFUMED GARDEN

(Original lyrics by Olli Lappalainen, but they're not available.
This poem was written to fit in with the old words....)

I'm sick of all these scars
And thinking of you, Why you left me
'Cause I'd seen that love was true
The worst of me would tear it all away
But the worst of me could feel its whole grace
"....In the garden the fallen jesting
With souls burned black...."
(My mind is clear)
The spring of that year came back
Without a fear, And they fell for you
Everyone for lost delight
"....In the garden the fallen jesting
With souls burned black...."
(My mind is clear)
The spring of that year came back
And they fell for you
Everyone for lost delight
The spring of that year came back
And we have met again
And your scent is still the same
I'm sick of all these scars
and thinking of you, Why you left me
'Cause I'd seen that love was true

AMOR TONIGHT

I put my boots back on,
Brought them down from the attic
And they're so nice and broken,
With words unspoken
To this city inside aflame
Here I am, Like a crooked little lamb
So breathless
The world is trying to stop (me)
And the night is still
And it's still "if you only knew…"
Like an hour of doom,
With broken bottles on the streets
And Amor gone crazy
So crazy, As we feel afire
(It’s the summer of love and I feel...)

Just forgive me the bad weather
There's no love without faith and thine is dead,
No love except with Fati and thine is dead

So would you let me be,
Let me be the bastard Waleis
That I was meant to be
Tonight

CURE A WOUND

Throw your wishes at a stone,
Whenever feeling it
What has an endless sight
It never cared for us, Will the midnight sun
Ever be that black again
Take off more masquerades,
Longing to be touched
To be released in a way or another
Try harder and everything will be blending,
Then tear it down

The wine's out of your cup
Don't cure a wound, No baby,
That doesn't help at all
Throw your wishes at a stone,
Whenever feeling it
What has an endless sight
It never cared for us

The wine's out of your cup
Don't cure a wound, No baby,
That doesn't help at all
"There's too many party people,
The tough guys are even worse"
Oh if it's grey one should get lost
And you should know you spell it wrong
Let's bleed for the years that passed away
with seasonal affective disorder
Even in Midsummer

THE EMPTINESS OF SPIRIT

How many paths must a man
Walk down until you call him a man
And if it isn't good I understand,
With different rights

The days to settle down,
To hear what's going low
There's a bitter old ghost
And a side trail every morning

How many paths must a man
Walk down until you call him a man
And when it comes to this,
Easily for those with beer,
Honey, Waiting

The days to settle down,
To hear what's going low
And it's in the wind
The spirit blowing the answer
To an asshole's face
Not to swear for nothing,
In synchronicity that's even still perfect
There's a bitter old ghost
And a side trail every morning

IT SHINES

The world's broken when I'm not here,
And if we take it to its limits…
Maybe no beauty left
Seeing things that aren't ours
For truth and delusion,
Any kind of a difference

But on that night it felt like home
With a small amount of love and that cliche
Classy pale white face
What her sad eyes brought me

"And I want to be, I want
To be where the sun is shining
I want to have you there beside me
And take me back to where the magic is
‘Cause this fucking head it's hurting"

Searching for bliss from between the lines,
And if I'm given the chance…
Moving in this world with good luck in the veins
‘Cause so far, Yeah, So far I've suffered too

But no more dog-like martyrs to be
With these heads to shine hurt and curse
And no, I could not sleep at night
When its throes held me high

"And I want to be, I want
To be where the sun is shining
I want to have you there beside me
And take me back to where the magic is
'Cause this fucking head it's hurting"





Writhen
An old song title from August 1997

I've heard Leonard Cohen has said Anthem is one of his best songs. ”Ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering. There's a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in.” So we let all the bells ring. Those of Nick Cave and Your funeral, my trial, too. It was about time to dress in black leather again, for there was a part to be played. Divided against itself, what would be the result? If you want to see it add some nostalgy. "Vanhaa suolaa siihen haavaan joka vuotaa edelleen" brings old sayings together. "Vanha suola janottaa" is the same as "old love makes you thirsty". Literally translated it would mean "old salt makes thirsty". And "suolaa siihen haavaan joka vuotaa edelleen" means "pour salt to the wound that still bleeds". About the nature of Minne, medieval German courtly love, there are many differing views. Jacques Lacan said it's a poetic technique resembling foreplay, while for Rudolf Steiner it was something spiritual. "Minne sattuu ihmiseen" means "where does it hurt in man". Or, "love hurts". The song tries to score at least one point. But there is no reason for me to be proud, I myself didn't succeed very well.

Deathwhite
An old song title from June 1996

There once was a man who wanted to race along the highway listening to My Way. But he always woke up feeling bad, with a mouth full of dirty words, so to speak. The man knew it would be best to clean it with a soap, but he already had a few spirit world speeding tickets waiting to be paid. Luckily Frank Sinatra helped a little with this debt. Yes, baby, it was the wrong way. Should have turned right. When that kind of shit happens, you'll just have to eat it up and then spit it all out. And try again. Even if every man was like an island unto himself, without the sea he would still be nothing.

The Perfumed Garden
An old song title from November-December 1996

This song has a demo version called Garden of Fallen Jesters. I have to apologize Olli Lappalainen for changing the title of the first OG hit. However, there were no lyrics availabe when I was given the job. I had to invent words that seemingly follow the existing vocal lines (I didn't do this all the way). Now published for the first time, the complete love poem dating from February 2002, inspired by Sheikh Nefzaoui's book, my old songs and the first scent of love. I was reading Dante when I wrote it. As the new OG approached me last spring (2007), asking for the lyrics, I realized that the only remaining copy of the poem had survived as a bookmark for Divina Commedia. So time did tell after all? Love had the final word on this. But it had to be purified first.

Amor Tonight

The lines concerning Amor's mental health and his new style of using the bow and arrow were based on text messages sent to me during the Summer of 2002. Here the poor boy compares himself to a crooked little lamb, and repeats after Luther: here I am. No, sorry, it was Nick Cave again. But let it be. Things are going smoothly over the edge. I have to say the song is among OG's best ones when performed live, but on this record it's pretty strange. The moods in the studio were tuned on and out, and I was sick. God, I was so sick of it. It was not anyone's fault in particular, but actually it was everyone's fault. ”Just forgive me the bad weather” is a quote from my old lyrics Amor Fati (April 1997), and the following lines are what Amor said to Psyche when they broke up. Helen Hoffner sings it's the summer of love. And my spirit was burning, too. But the song is a good one. It's not her fault if you're an idiot. Wolfram's Parzival was the Waleis. Nowadays everyone trying to walk the path of "spiritual progress" could be called Parzival. But this may not be the right channel to talk about it, hence the joking. Maybe the guy has a sense of humour, after all.

Cure A Wound
An old song title from July 1997

I celebrated my 18th birthday in Nummirock, when the Midnight Sun was shining bright. I was bored and dull, and so it was scientifically proved that seasonal affective disorder can ruin your days even in Midsummer. There were some nice people and beautiful moments waiting for me, but I let them all "down". One thing I always admired about OG was that they did not take things too seriously, they just enjoyed their time. In those dark ages of the nineties I was playing the part of a misanthropic asshole. Although I did it half-consciously (laughing at my own stupidity), I was too..... And, no, I can't deny it. Whether it was the pain and suffering, the difficulties I still had, or just the Stylus I had to imitate in order to achieve some sort of "credibility", I went on - going with the flow again, for a little while. But there are Things and other things; E.B Tylor's Primitive Culture had these wonderful examples of old midsummer rituals (throwing wine at a stone etc), and there's the Hölderlinian distance between men and gods. What has an endless sight? Oh I almost forgot: the title should have been Don't cure a wound, to differ from the Cold Waste song. I blew it.

The Emptiness Of Spirit

Bob Dylan sings Blowing in the wind, and for me it was February 2000. This is an important song. With good lyrics, good melodies and a spirit's warning. The wordplays are necessary, for there must be different things for different men. Some of us want to drink booze, others want to find out what's going on here. We all have our fights and our rights. There's a bitter old ghost and a side trail every morning. Until we're back on the track. And this is also the official song about backstabbers who sit in a corner bar waiting for better times. Are they just like you and me? Oh, but do we know where our bad vibes came from. It's alright. We have Turbolover, also. And even Divine Light is still somewhere there, circle around long enough till you get something out of it. I was Freewheelin' with Bob Dylan all the way. You gotta face your ghosts and know with no illusions.......

Wastrel / Son's Thoughts

....that you're all going home again. Whatever the X.X.X.X, whatever the reasons behind it, no matter how bad the situation was, here the words themselves hold. Nothing can bring them down. Who knows if they actually had some effect to those bad and ugly spirits who came our way and wanted to sing along. Certainly it was not this moment when our producer Nino Laurenne gave me the nickname "Hevin M.A. Numminen". But it was a good name, and I'm still flattered.

It Shines

Shine on you crazy diamond. Syd Barrett walks down his path and Gina G tells where she wants to be (Ti Amo). I was reading Heidegger and watching Music Television. I guess I had improved since 1996 when I was listening to Katatonia with MTV on mute. Pink Floyd opens it all up to you. With a small amount of love, for a silent last wish. One thing is certain. "Wherever you may go ti amo".