Remembrances

by Vedova

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Doug Kunz slow and heavy Favorite track: To Himself.
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08:54
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about

All is just be told, important thing is to locate who was the best interpreter. So the band decided to express itself through the words of Giacomo Leopardi, a great italian doomster of XVIII century.

credits

released May 6, 2014

Guitars, bass and drums recorded august 2004 at Zarastudios, CT
Vocals recorded october 2004 at All4music hall, BO
Keyboard recorded october 2004 at Nyarlathotep studio, BO
Mixed and mastered november 2004 at The gloomy halls of sorrow, BO

All music by Vedova except track #7 by At the gates
All Lyrics by G. Leopardi except track #7 by T.Lindberg
English translations by J.G.Nichols, published by Carcanet press (Manchester)

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Il Male Production Bologna, Italy

Il Male (The Evil) Production is an independent underground label devoted to the promotion of the most valuable underground bands of italian and international metal scene.

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Track Name: To the Moon
O gracious moon, now that I recollect, it was a year ago I climbed this hill in terrible distress to gaze on you; and you were hanging then above that wood as you do now, suffusing it with light.
But misty then and muddled from the weeping that clouded both my eyes your face appeared to me at least, because my life was full of anguish then: and is, nor has it changed, o moon of my delight.
Yet I enjoy remembrance, and the reckoning of the age my sorrow grows to. What enormous pleasure in time of youth, when hope has such great distance to travel still and memory so little, in recollecting things that now are past, thought they were sad things, and the pain endures!

(1819, Recanati)
Track Name: The Infinite
I always did value this lonely hill, and this hedgegrow also, where so wide a stretch of the extreme horizon’s out of sight. But sitting here and gazing, I find that endless spaces beyond that hedge, and more-than-human silences, and the deepest peace and quiet are fashioned in my thought; so much that almost my heart fills up with fear.
And as I hear the wind rustle among the leaves, I set that infinite silence up against this voice, comparing them; and I recall the eternal, and the dead seasons, and the present one alive, and all the sound of it. And so in this immensity my thought is drowned: and I enjoy my sinking in this sea.

(1819, Recanati)
Track Name: To Himself
Now you must rest forever, my weary heart. The last deceit has died, I had thought everlasting. Died. I feel not hope alone, desire for dear deceits in us come to fail.
Now rest for ever. You have throbbed sufficiently. Nothing is worth one beat of yours: nor is it worthy sighs, this earth.
Bitterness, boredom are all life is; and all the world is mud.
Lie quietly Despair this final time. Fate granted to our kind nothing but dying. Now despise yourself, nature (the brutal force that furtively ordains the general harm), and this infinity of nothingness.

(1833, Florence)