Stake-out style outside the local strip mall, in the lot, and smoke is clouding all visibility. Swirled windows open and shut, revealing the cemetery across the street, and sitting in the shadows of trees makes the night a bit more grainy. Figures move about between grave stones, but they’re indistinguishable, seemingly blending with what can and can’t be seen clearly. Maybe it’s worship. Or without guts and brains. Shit, it’s probably an animal of some kind, right? Mystery is always the devil, so hold the details, please. And as these figures emerge into something noticeable, something clear, smoke swells the vision and red eyes are at an all-time high, running tears that frame the nose and mouth. Into the mouth. They taste like soot and salt.
Then what’s most feared is staring across through the cemetery gate and car windshield. It’s focused on the beads of sweat and neck pulse. The only attributes that can be seen clearly are eyes in a blob of black. It moves closer by following the shadows without revealing itself too much. It’s conscious. It’s haunting. This is the witness of “Golnessar,” musical incantation by Vox Populi!, repressed by Pacific City Sound Visions. Reap!
• Pacific City Sound Visions: http://pacificitysoundvisions.com