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Lustral Purge In Cerulean Bliss


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𝐈ℵveterateϻendaciousness⚕ thumbnail
𝐈ℵveterateϻendaciousness⚕ Just fucking incredible. Probably some of the most memorable riff work of any avant-garde act. These prestigious boys more than deserve a few chillings from your sumptuous pockets, and the hermit himself allures you to provide. Favorite track: The Hermit Strums a Mournful Dirge.
eatingcaveevan thumbnail
eatingcaveevan This is one of the most unique releases I have heard in a long time. I’m hesitant to label it black metal. Every track has at least one “how did they think of this shit?” riff. Favorite track: Agoraphobic Solipsist.
Matten thumbnail
Matten Cosmic Putrefaction's 2020 album was truly among the best DM releases that year (go listen to it if you haven't already). It's no surprise that this album is so great. The music and artwork both set a haunting and crushing tone, with occasional underlying tranquility - much like the ocean itself. Favorite track: Altopiano Celeste.
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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Deluxe Digipack CD with Booklet. Ltd 200

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There aren’t truths in matter. My eternal wandering on this land is a desert, towards which I fall in flight from my flash. A hoarse voice, older than being, detaches me from my senses; in my second life I run... I run against that bygone litany, far from the visceral churning. Now I am a fragment, a reflection that twists on itself. Now I see Cronus’ incessant alacrity, poison searing in the arteries; the constant, repeated persistence of self; the cardiac vertigo, even the very vibration of the frames of reality, as in a liquid painting that exists, in unstable balance... On the verge of collapse, enjoying the thrill of the everlasting thwarted fall. From atop the most harrowing vertigo, I contemplate with desperate sentience, chimeras unveiling and disclosing; salvific hallucinations unravel, among the crystalline clouds of unknowing whereat I let myself fall.
I reawaken twisted in myself, in a hostile painting. My flesh writhes, cracks, melts. Each cell like gypsum, and then sand, in a body crusher. Pain sublimates itself in a cathartic abandon . Hallucinations and vertigo followed one another, although my eyes cried abundant blood, imprisoned in nailed lids, searing magmatic shrouds. While elder aeons unveiled themselves to my sight, my vertebrae arched, breaking and slivering; their splinters pierced me and in a mute grimace my heels joined my neck. I can’t breath, and in a silence, which my muffled shrieks would like to fill, I glimpse sulphurous liquid clouds around me, engulfing me in their obscure cloak. Looming over my mangled remains, they formed arches and vaults, which widen more and more reaching the distant plateaus. While with vain efforts I try to separate my lips , I observe some purple fumes coming out of it mirroring those vapors that previously overwhelmed me. A chilling northern wind blows through them, pushing a hoarse pulse, among which I see a discern voice: The aforesaid voice, thus speaks “In human form you are not allowed here”.
Through delirium and mystery, fleeting borders lie all around. The earth slips under my feet, wrapping them in mud while the winds ravage and sharpen this boundless plain. I detect the streaming flow of the rivulets like veins’ turbid emissaries. Now they channel their flows towards valleys, invigorated by incessant rains. But the basin where these scents pour has become the color of blood. Whenever I have tried to succumb to the shade of hidden firs I’ve been overwhelmed by merciless floods; the cold of thousands winters: illusion of the immeasurable time; the dark of eternity, inhabits of gods’ deception. The rain, which became hail and then turned into silent snow, buried me in the extraordinary silence of this refuge in the middle of nowhere. I implore this austere land to disclose its desires and its vice, and now I see the profound secret of my sin of being. Delirium of bodies, ferment of void. Harmony in everything, symphony in nothingness. The moment I perceive the core, tumult of being, the ethereal paths expire in the smoky aether, collapsed in void. There is everything in the absence of nothing.
A crackle could be heard, in the distance: the sound of dry leaves creaking as they burn. The naked ice crunched and shattered while the breeze blew as a gentle embrace. Formerly he had envisioned mysterical maelstroms and otherworldly darkness and radiance. In that surreal stillness, a glow of an albeit timid fire was an irresistible call in that frozen hellscape. He made his way through the fir’s branches (led by complete abnegation), grazing them with his numb fingers, unable to suffer the innumerable splinters cuts. Like stoic watchers, the moons were still reflecting their radiance on the thick snow blanket of the boundless taiga. When he finally found himself in the flesh lying moribund next to a bonfire, the quiet revealed its plans: his true self in fact, before he expired, was intent on predicting an absurd future in which he would have met him as a specter in that same place, after the thaw.
I saw thee quietly inurned by expert but decrepit hands. And yet the bora came to disperse the ashes before they reached the casket. The hermit contemplated astonished the transience of the powders, that had once generated and nourished an entire existence, now merging with the aether. Sic Transit Gloria Mundi! But then the astonishment became pain, the pain refusal. His gaze tore through the infinite, his shoutings pierced every hollow to the center of the Earth. And after the bora came the mistral. The winds ceased and was the lull. Seasons followed one another. And that day forgotten, that echo vanished and sorrow dispersed. Knelt, with clasped hands he sighed: “Cupio dissolvi... Cupio dissolvi!”
(adapted from Rainer Maria Rilke’s “Duino Elegies”) In the end, those torn from their life too early no longer need us: we wean ourselves from what is earthly, gently, as from the womb. But we, who need such great conundrums, how often blissful progress springs from grief: could we ever be, us, without the dead? The eternal flow always carries us within the two realms, for ever... And drowns our voices in both.


=== ORDER NOW ===


DIGIPACK CD - Out November 12, 2021
(incl. Bandcamp Digital Download and Streaming)
• Limited to 300 copies
• 6-Panel Digipack, 8-page booklet

12" LP VINYL IN GATEFOLD SLEEVE - Out March 4, 2022
(incl. Bandcamp Digital Download and Streaming)
• Ltd 300: 150 black vinyl, 150 marbled blue*
• 140gr. vinyl
• 350gr. gatefold sleeve
• Black inner sleeves
• Outer plastic sleeve

* exclusive to our Eshop

VERTEBRA ATLANTIS are born from the imagination of G.G., the artist behind COSMIC PUTREFACTION, one of 2020's most revered death metal bands. In this new metal adventure G.G. is supported by two fellow musicians: R.R. (HOMSELVAREG) on drums and vocals, and Vrangr (SPELLS OF MISERY) on bass.

VERTEBRA ATLANTIS' debut album, "Lustral Purge in Cerulean Bliss" brings to life a relentless blend of dissonant black metal, dark atmospheres and monolithic death metal. The band paints desolate landscapes to be admired in awe. The granite rhythm section, along with annihilating guitar riffs and psychedelic arpeggios, accompanies the hellish screams and cavernous growls of G.G. and R.R. depicting a complex portrait of revenge, anger and despair.

Wrapped in a wonderful, enigmatic painting by Vama Marga, VERTEBRA ATLANTIS' "Lustral Purge in Cerulean Bliss" is a powerful manifesto of multifaceted, vicious extreme metal and apocalyptic atmospheres that annihilates all will, leaving the listener prey to melancholy and a sense of painful atonement, yet eager to follow the next steps of this new, intriguing and cursed electric beast.


released November 12, 2021


G.G. : Guitars, Synths, Vocals
R.R. : Drums, Vocals
Vrangr : Bass

Recorded and mixed by G.G., Winter/Spring 2021

Mastered at The Empty Hall studios, Summer 2021

Music by G.G.
Concept and lyrics by G.G. and R.R

Painting by Vama Marga
Layout by Francesco Gemelli
Cat. Nr. IVR164


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