Gentle Doom

by Cruel Wonders

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Count P.
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Count P. I've listened this album countless times. It can be the most listened album in the last year for me. And this is haunting I must confess. So different with all its features. Depressed vocals, mighty and mystical riffs... It can not be easily compared with an other. So unique and so haunting. Thanks a lot for creating this. Favorite track: The Fever Called Living.
DonnieDarko
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DonnieDarko If you like it dark and atmospheric you have found the right place. Cruel Wonders are delivering a rarely type of sound. I would consider this as a part of the metal branch, though the music itself is a weird type of dark, haunting folk with a bit of a doom influence, but overall I think doom metal fans will be most pleased with this album.
MindOverFour
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MindOverFour I wish there more music like this. Reminds me of the Sixteen Horsepower album Folklore and some Wovenhand songs. But with a gothic rather than an Americana vibe. Distorted guitars and beautiful vocals with sparse, minimal percussion. The result is hypnotic. Favorite track: Walls Of Home.
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1.
Preface 02:24
...And with their river trac'd it from the skies. While there my laws alone despotic reign'd, And kings as well as people proud obey'd; I taught them science, virtue, wisdom, arts; By poets, sages, legislators sought; The school of polish'd life and humankind; But when mysterious Superstition came, And, with her legal sister leagu'd, involv'd In studied darkness the desponding mind, Then tyrant Power the righteous scourge unloos'd; For yielded reason speaks the soul a slave. Instead of useful works, like Nature's great, Enormous, cruel wonders crushed the land-
2.
Thank Heaven! the crisis- The danger is past, And the lingering illness Is over at last- Sadly, I know I am shorn of my strength, And no muscle I move As I lie at full length- But no matter! (I feel I'm better at length) The moaning and groaning, Are quieted now, Have ceased, with the fever That maddened my brain- Bathing in many A dream of the truth And the beauty of Annie- Drowned in a bath Of the tresses. (of Annie) And I rest so composedly, Now, in my bed That any beholder Might fancy me dead- the fever called living is conquedred at last With that horrible throbbing At heart For the naphthaline river Of Passion accurst:- I have drunk of a water That quenches all thirst:- Of a water that flows, With a lullaby sound, From a spring but a very few Feet under ground- And I rest so composedly, Now, in my bed That any beholder Might fancy me dead- the fever called living is conquedred at last With that horrible throbbing At heart
3.
Gentle Doom 05:31
Those lips that Love's own hand did make Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate' To me that languish'd for her sake; But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom, And taught it thus anew to greet: A woman's face with nature's own hand painted, Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion; A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure. 'I hate' she alter'd with an end, That follow'd it as gentle day Doth follow night, who like a fiend From heaven to hell is flown away; Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom, And taught it thus anew to greet: A woman's face with nature's own hand painted, Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion; A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure. 'I hate' from hate away she threw, And saved my life, saying 'not you.'
4.
Don't call. Without any summons I'll reach the shrine. And droop my head in even silence To your feet fine. I will your orders shyly listen And will remain To catch our meetings, short and instant, And wish again. I fell before your passions' power, Before its wave, Sometimes -- a serf; sometimes -- a lover; Always -- a slave.
5.
We have cried in our despair That men desert, For some trivial affair Or noisy, insolent, sport, Beauty that we have won From bitterest hours; Yet we, had we walked within Those topless towers Where Helen walked with her boy, Had given but as the rest Of the men and women of Troy, A word and a jest.
6.
My Monastery 06:20
My monastery, where I’m badly pining, Is granite, melted by the burning mind. I’m strangled and blinded under this heat, lying, And leave it, trying a new cell to find… There’ll be still heat, but one that’s always warming. The bloody ball will melt my brain to ash, I’ll lose my mind in ways, the more calming, Than in this one, oppressing blood and flesh. Where’s the new cell? Where is my cloister, novel? Not on the skies, the grave’s darkness behind, But on the Earth it’s healthy one and low, Where I’ll find all, when having lost my mind!...
7.
He did not lie – the ghost, so sad and thoughtful, That from a star took his name by a chance, When he had said, “Don’t fear the Lord”, to us, “Just try the fruit and be like Him immortal”. I’m sick, for sure: deep darkness holds my heart, I’m bored with the people and the stories, And dream of treasures of the kingdoms, glories, And yataghans, all covered with blood. All routs for youths were opened in glow, And all forbidden works – for older ones, And amber fruits -- for gaily girls, at once, And the rhinoceros forever white as snow. I’m mute. I pine… They vanish – walls of home: There is a sea in spots of silver foam, The sun of evening – on the stones’ lead, The city, with blue domes, like its wardens, With flourish and decor of jasmine gardens, We’d fought right there … Oh, yes! And I was killed!
8.
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face; Could Love for ever Run like a river, And Time’s endeavour Be tried in vain— No other pleasure With this could measure: We’d hug the chain. Wait not, fond lover! Till years are over, And then recover As from a dream. While each bewailing The other's failing, With wrath and railing, All hideous seem ---
9.
Cradle Song 03:44
Sweet dreams form a shade, O'er my lovely infants head. Sweet dreams of pleasant streams, By happy silent moony beams Sweet sleep with soft down. Weave thy brows an infant crown. Sweet sleep Angel mild, Hover o'er my happy child. Sleep sleep happy child, All creation slept and smil'd. Sleep sleep, happy sleep. While o'er thee thy mother weep Sweet moans, dovelike sighs, Chase not slumber from thy eyes, Sweet moans, sweeter smiles, All the dovelike moans beguiles. Sleep sleep happy child, All creation slept and smil'd. Sleep sleep, happy sleep. While o'er thee thy mother weep Sweet babe in thy face, Holy image I can trace. Sweet babe once like thee. Thy maker lay and wept for me. While o'er thee thy mother weep
10.
You tilt your head and smile - as if across the countryside a breeze had rippled through the grass out of a brilliant sky. The sullen stranger you brush past stops, turns and relishes that radiant health which aureoles your shoulders and your arms. Often, when I would drag myself into some leafy park and when the sun like a rebuke would lacerate my breast. In all that panoply of silks that colors you parade awaken in our poets' minds a giddy valse des fleurs - garish gowns which designate the motley of your mind: infectious folly! all I loathe is one with all I love! Often, when I would drag myself into some leafy park and when the sun like a rebuke would lacerate my breast, so deeply did the Spring's new green humiliate my heart that I would punish in one rose all Nature's insolence . . . I'll come like that to you some night when lovers ought to come, creeping in silence till I reach the treasures of your flesh, Often, when I would drag myself into some leafy park and when the sun like a rebuke would lacerate my breast.
11.
Небывалая осень построила купол высокий, Был приказ облакам этот купол собой не темнить. И дивилися люди: проходят сентябрьские сроки, А куда провалились студеные, влажные дни?.. Изумрудною стала вода замутненных каналов, И крапива запахла, как розы, но только сильней, Было душно от зорь, нестерпимых, бесовских и алых, Их запомнили все мы до конца наших дней. Было солнце таким, как вошедший в столицу мятежник, И весенняя осень так жадно ласкалась к нему, Что казалось - сейчас забелеет прозрачный подснежник... Вот когда подошел ты, спокойный, к крыльцу моему.

about

"This duo’s Eastern-tinged, at times “heavy” folk music offers a more cinematic take on what is generally a genre steeped in minimalism." - Invisible Oranges (US)

"A charismatic and intriguing listening experience, that open-minded music fans will be sure to appreciate." - Ave Noctum (UK)

"Some haunting, lovely melodies in these songs... There’s no good reason why a late nineteenth century Romantic poem should sound pleasing accompanied by modern guitar sounds, but it definitely does." - Diabolique Magazine (US)

"Sorrowful, deep, contemplative, melodic, and dark." - Bucketlist Music (Can)

"The psychological effect of their debut album blending doom riffs with Jewish folk and darkwave electronics reveals an ambition well fulfilled." - Fémforgács (Hun)

credits

released March 10, 2017

Tamar Singer - vocals, acoustic guitar
Vlad Shusterman - electric guitars, programming

Music written, arranged and performed by Cruel Wonders
Produced, mixed and mastered by Vlad Shusterman

Lyrics:
1 - from Liberty, by James Thomson
2 - For Annie, by E. A. Poe
3 - Shakespeare, sonnets 145, 20
4 - Servus - Reginae, by Alexander Blok, translated by Yevgeny Bonver
5 - When Helen Lived, by W. B. Yeats
6 - "My monastery, where I'm badly pining...", by Alexander Blok, translated by Yevgeny Bonver
7 - A Sonnet, by Nikolai Gumilev, translated by Yevgeny Bonver
8 - Could Love For Ever, by Lord George Byron
9 - A Cradle Song, by William Blake
10 - from "À celle qui est trop gaie" by Charles Baudelaire, translated by Richard Howard
11 - "An autumn never seen..." by Anna Akhmatova, read by the author

Front art: Allan Clark, Ruth St. Denis as Radha, 1916
Band logo by Christophe Szpajdel
Band photo by Orly Eyal-Levy
Live photos by Goni Riskin

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Cruel Wonders Israel

Four years in making and having shared stage with such heavyweights as ROME and Spiritual Front, Cruel Wonders' debut sets classic poetry to sparse, doom-laden neofolk for the post-metal age. The duo's sound is rooted in Singer's haunting vocals and hearty strumming, while Shusterman's mesmerized riffs and cavernous electronics evoke equal parts darkwave lull and doom metal menace. ... more

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