A Rare Thunderstorm in Spring

by Perihelion Ship

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about

A Rare Thunderstorm in Spring is the self-funded debut album of Perihelion Ship, an extreme progressive metal band, co-founded by Andreas Hammer and Jani Konttinen in Finland, 2013. In addition to the commonly used techniques of the genre, the album also features a use of Hammond organ in the vein of classic 70's rock acts, combined with a use of Mellotron inspired by classic progressive acts such as Anekdoten and Änglagård.


Feel free to contact us at: perihelion.ship@gmail.com or fill the contact form on the right.

credits

released January 20, 2016

music by Andreas Hammer
lyrics by Jani Konttinen
production by Kris McCormick @ infinity horizon
mastering by David Castillo @ Ghost Ward
art by Mikko Jaakonsaari

arrangements and performance by Perihelion Ship:

Andreas Hammer - Guitar, Vocals
Jani Konttinen - Hammond Organ, Mellotron
Jouko Lehtonen - Bass Guitar
Jari-Markus Kohijoki - Drums

additional performances on final track:

Joonas Pyhtilä (Carved In Ashes) - Drums
Alma von Creutlein - The Many Voices of the Godmachine

Bandcamp design by Vilmar Vuoristo and Mikko Jaakonsaari

tags

license

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about

Perihelion Ship Finland

Perihelion Ship is a four piece progressive extreme metal band from Finland.

You can find us on facebook @ www.facebook.com/perihelionship/

contact / help

Contact Perihelion Ship

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Track Name: Misplaced Rainfall
Prologue.

Rain of lavender
Absorbs me within
Pale scent of September
Coldwater neath my feet

I.

Electric skies
Noisy winds
Twisted roads
Restless seas

Barren fields
Torn off peaks
Smoldered Maps
Laden eaves

Silent void
Ignited stars
Chaos form
This is me

II.

There was a time
When each of us died
In a future no one knew
Rains were replaced
By crimson red skies
A space where nothing grew

Oh, there was a time
When each of us died
In a future no one knew
Eden's rains rearranged
A hallowed morning rise
A space where nothing grew

The ending, only a memory
Unveiled in someone's mind
Playing the final major key
Turning the final page

III.

The ending
An organ chord of death
In my mind
Smashing the final major key
Delivering the final page

A black sun
Clutching all inside
A vortex
Of mortal time
Swirling
Behind all eyes
An ending
To your climb

To your futile climb

Epilogue.

Numb and drifting
Through the nothingness
My last sense fades away

Feebly floating
Into the emptiness
I know there's no one there

In the graveyard of creation
Where planets fall to their death
I am lost inside darkness
As the universe takes its last breath
Track Name: The Emperor Idea
I.

Days of faith and religion
Enigma embedded meaning, -conjured believer eyes
Scars breeding thought and devotion
'Cries' before the zoom: notions of the skies
Antagonists end, a declaration
Recoiling from the cross, inverted evil spawns
Tenacious wave – and
Energy imbued artifacts
Science, I sang

II.

Will I ever find,
A truth beyond His eyes
Solemn words of mine
Waiting to arrive

Riddle solving mind
Of origin spawning kind
No I will not fail
Going for the one

Kinship grown from waters old
Arithmetic fingers invoking light
Nauseous heads departing from the cross
Towards a more defined night

III.

When I took to the sea
At night, guided by stars
Sins of my reckless days
Were all as if torn apart

Renewed in silent insight - perhaps
Only to see: a sight
Narrated by the skies - untold
Galactic seas

Messenger of lies
Eraser of screams
Tuning the truth
Asking for me

Pillager of birth
Heretics over seas
You are the sons
Sinews of me

IV.

In the year of the fox
Circle of life
Science has changed, the seasons of man

Vehicle's departing
Origin curtains fall
In truth the end, to their endless advance

Devourers!
Track Name: Fool of White Antlers
I.

Will the king play the fool for a day
For his sake, for his kingdom, for man
Does the horse hurl away its rider
Who's strolling through life without a plan
Will the rich rest on top of their glory
On a journey over the snows
Is a confession a part of the story
When a new life begins to show
Only those in jest will know.

Are we deaf to the creature of the land
Whose voice is lost between the trees
Are the limits of our understanding
Pale dividing lines absorbed in seas
Where are those who in the dawn
Dress in antlers and begin to row
Will the end, tell us the tale
Or simply merge us in the flow
Only those in jest will know.

II.

A prison keeps us grounded
It is a room, with no door
The wall is being pounded
And we lie, on the floor

Although there is no door,
We try to see
To nurture our minds
In silence and confusion
We are left inside alone

III.

The king dressed in white antlers
The horse denied its rider
The rich were frozen in the snows
The confession, a part of the show
The creature spoke inside their minds
Pillars formed up from the seas
In the dawn those truths were mine
And the end enclosed me
Transcending time
Track Name: The Poet from the Mad Moon
Inside his solemn notions
Outside the judging eyes
His mind created potions
His mind painted skies

He walked celestial paths
In the dusk, in the dawn
But he is in the past
Because of days so forlorn

The castle, his creation
Its halls were his home
Perhaps exaggeration
Yet tales to be told

Master of his craft
Commanding quill and ink
But his mind did not last
His vision blurred too dim

He touched the truth too close
Disturbed the halls of those
Who gave him his soul
Who let his mind roam

All for his art
He wrote his mind apart
Confusing his soul
In the end he was alone
Track Name: A Rare Thunderstorm in Spring
Prologue.

Mankind had reached a point of no return. The wheel that once had been set in motion by the Age of Enlightenment had now been lost in speed. There was no stopping it now. Each scientific discovery propelled the wheel onwards, accelerating the speed of evolution. And the prophets called it beautiful. They were scientists who'd gone mad of the power they now held, for after disproving the existence of God in the year 2359, they saw themselves as immortals. However, the universe was breaking at the seams, and soon the tear in the valve of the cosmos was too great, and the nothingness poured in, drowning the essence. At that point “Time” - as anyone would ever know it - stopped existing and merged with the nothingness.

GODMACHINE HAS BEEN REACHED.

I.

The man stood at an edge of green
While the abyss swirled around
Inside the swirl, he could see
The moon and stars and sun

When he listened, with eager ears
The abyss spoke in sound
At that moment he realized
What always had been done

Time is lies
Time is seconds
Time is irony
Time is death
Time is key
Time is smoke
Time is light
Time is end

Time is not illusion
But it's close
Slimy circumfusion
Bizarre prose

Time is never there
Where you were
Particles in air
Which we prefer

II.

The 'Idols' descended from the heavens in ca. 700 B.C. Earthen Time, although their visit was short, as this was a time of great unrest across the valve of the cosmos. When a transcendent being steps on 'mortal' ground his far more evolved aura causes a disease in those less advanced. That was when the Earthen man was afflicted with a DNA disorder that would on occasion spew forth anomalies, such as J.S. Bach and W. A. Mozart. When the 'Idols', (now called 'aliens') returned in 2109, mankind offered them the works of Bach and Mozart as proof of their advance, but the alien race was uninterested in mankinds boasting and sharing of what to them were just some ideas. Years earlier, there was a man who wrote a text that touched upon all these matters slightly, without him himself ever quite realizing it.

Thousand years ago
My kin and kind was born
But our blood was cursed
We were met with scorn

Outside them we hide
Observe, without discord
We don't need their strife
We lament their horde

Soon mankind will face
The stars and cosmos seas
The valve casting night
Opens for all to see

That's how we'll die
Physical form descends
Futility and despair
Inside a bitter end

And I just despise
All those who die
Without a self
Without a honest reason why

Because they fall
Within hype of the land
Their fate always sealed
By the ones in command

Thus search yourself
And question now
Are you a clone
To whom do you bow

He is the Rotating Man
His brain is made of marzipan
He has no money and he has no fame
He'll never be happy because it's a game!

I am lies
I am seconds
I am irony
I am death
I am key
I am smoke
I am light
I am end

III.

The archive, or THE archive, as most entities like to say, is a two dimensional planet hanging down from the valve of the cosmos, approximately 12 million light years from Earth and 700 million light years from the origin of space time. Its libraries and contents would later be hugely beneficial in the programming of the Oracle Machine, and the following song, The Grey Autumn in The House of Starlight, would be the tipping point for scientists who now would be able to understand themselves enough to understand the machine they were building.

Walking to the city
I see them burning
The grey wind is moving the flames apart

A black sound echoes through the mountains
The cold rain guides it all around

Outside the walls
A man is laughing
Their house is slowly crumbling down

The acid sea boils beneath the heavens
Ashen rain a curtain, window, crown

IV.

In some galaxies it was said that in the day of the apocalypse, the giant tapestry monster would break trough the valve of the cosmos and climb in; its feet as tall as the universe itself. His fury was not so much a rage than a duty to fulfill, like the Janitor who in the end of the day comes to clean all the toys left by the neighbor kids.

It happened in a dream
A voice inside of me
Showed me burning skies
Asked me to come by
Before we would die

And now I know his face
The tapestry of deep space
A being rather kind
Although not designed
Beyond time and mind

I am the tapestry, the janitor, the caretaker
And this valve is running out of time
I am the fabric, the Godman, the deity
And I've come to take you back

The dream felt so real
I almost did not see
What he did to me
To sanity I was blind
To insanity entertwined
Now I walk this road
Ready to explode
Trying to withdraw
From the things I saw
The things I saw in awe

I am the watcher, the guardian, the leviathan
And this valve is running out of time
I am the particle, the first child, the giant
And I've come to take you back

V.

In the end we simply embraced 6.53 by becoming to terms with 5.633, 5.641 and all the others above 6.0, most notably 6.522. We became aware of our own Eye, our programming.

The man saw a plain of green
While the abyss swirled around
Behind the swirl, he could see
The moon and stars and sun

When he opened, his eager mind
The abyss spawned through sound
At that moment he realized
What never had been done

Epilogue.

Perhaps it all was just a rare thunderstorm in spring...