White Water Black Sheep
Transmissions from Lunar Eternity should always be taken seriously, which conceptual artist Zoviser Zazarka is careful to remind us of. These sounds are not without a sense of urgency, of belonging, yet they certainly don't force themselves onto the listener. A lot of care went into this, despite the abrasive appearance.
Proud owner of the CD. Favorite track: Transmissions from Lunar Eternity II: Subsurface Ocean.
Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
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Compact Disc from the Lunar Sands
Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album
This is a Compact Disc containing Transmissions from Lunar Eternity in its entirety. It is painted with the lunar sands of the Crater Epigeus and the black waves of the Subsurface Ocean. It is packaged in a slim jewel case with minimal art on the back, each copy's art more ghostlike than the last. PLEASE BE AWARE THAT THIS DISC, LIKE AFTERMATH #78, MAY DAMAGE YOUR DEVICES AND HAS NO GUARANTEE OF FUNCTIONING PROPERLY AS AUDIO MEDIA. USE AT YOUR OWN RISK. Edition of 10.
Includes unlimited streaming of Transmissions from Lunar Eternity
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
We've found ourselves without another
And lost ourselves within each other
In this crater, in this crater
That is our host.
We're far removed from mortal plans now
In formlessness we waft through sand now
In this crater, in this crater
We are our ghost.
We've found ourselves without another
And lost ourselves within each other
In this crater, in this crater
We are our host.
We're far removed from mortal plans now
In formlessness we waft through sand now
In this crater, in this crater
That is our ghost.
Part II: Subsurface Ocean
Part II - The Ocean
We found a new place as we descended
And lost our bodies as the last that ended
And this ocean, and this ocean
That is our host...
Is what we have left to explore and claim
In name of the self that has no such name
In this ocean, in this ocean
We are our ghost.
The wisps of our voices are our existence
And though we can throw them, we don't know the distance
In this ocean, in this ocean
We are our host.
So in fleeting moments of vague composition
We attempt to conjure another transmission
And this ocean, and this ocean
That is our ghost...
Is our undersurface purpose
As we tend toward taciturnity.
Let the crater be our creator
And let this ocean be our eternity.
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