Transmissions of Runic Truth from the Event Horizons


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Nine pieces of music composed in a retrograde sequencing programme without the use of midi keyboards or effects automation, augmented with ambient samples of natural plant fibres and animal calls. 'Transmissions of Runic Truth...' is a soundtrack to the obsessive aliens-in-prehistory rants of writers such as Erich Von Daniken, Brynsley Le Poer Trench and Peter Kolisimo, the folk-horror stories of Northern Europe, and the paranoid delusions of person-kind.


released April 4, 2009

Krom, Ocwylfe.



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Track Name: Strange Lights in the Crypt at Worcester Cathedral
Strange Lights In The Crypt At Worcester Cathedral.

Working late into the hot July evening, William the scribe sits at his desk in the side chapel of the cathedral. Bishop Thomas has afforded him extra time to copy out his part book for Sunday’s mass. He hears the porter shut the huge doors as the last of the clergy leave for their beds. It’s getting late, he thinks. William continues to copy out the alto part, carefully, in red ink. He cannot make a mistake - for he will forfeit his pay. Only six more bars to go.

As he moves his desk at the window, so as to catch the last rays of the sun, his eye is caught by a strange bluish light. It is emanating from just outside the chapel door. Scraping aside his chair, he motions towards it, and descends the few steps towards the cathedral floor. At this he sees that the light is coming from the crypt. Another door slams. William steps forwards, and peers into the gloom below. ‘Hello?’, he opines.
No answer. William is brave, so he descends the stone steps to the crypt below. He guesses that someone has left an oil lamp burning there.

The light is coming from the sarcophagus of Elfwyn, a saxon warrior turned monk. But this light is hovering. And very quickly he sees that the light is close to a figure, who is reading from the runic inscriptions on the tomb itself. William stumbles, and at this the figure disappears, and the light becomes a glowing orb that whizzes past his face and up the steps back into the cathedral. The scribe runs, breathless with excitement - for it is surely an angel - and watches as the timbers of the ceiling alight with dancing shadows, as the orb winds upwards. It is as if it wants to occupy every inch of the hallowed space. It disappears behind the thick drapes at the nave. At this the organ begins to play. He feels transfixed. William then sees the figure again, walking towards him through the chorister benches. It seems to take an aeon. It is a beautiful girl, like none he has ever seen before. She has long dark hair, black as the shell of a devil’s coach-horse, white skin, and large green eyes. She looks deeply into him, and then crosses the tesserae floor to the tower. At the foot of the staircase, she turns to him, before vanishing.

William gasps and runs after her. ‘Wait!…’ he calls. Stamping up the spiralling stones, he can see her glow ahead of him, always out of reach. Passing the bell room, he is now at the cathedral roof, yet still higher she must have climbed, right to the tower peak. Grasping his small bronze crucifix, he clambers to the final staircase. Up, up he turns, sometimes catching a glimpse of her feet. Passing the window, he sees the dark river Severn winding like a snake through the small town below. Moving up higher, the walls are now encroaching to the point where even his own small shoulders graze against the stone. Finally at the top William find himself alone, save for the huge sky, resplendent with a thousand glowing stars, and one indeed that is brighter than the others. Feeling drawn to it, he sees it come closer, and it is not a light at all, but a bright shape. He somehow feels reassured by its alien form - indeed the same thing is inscribed on Elfwynn's own tomb, and is a saxon letter as he remembers - ethel, the rune of ancestry and prior knowledge.
‘Do want to see heaven, William?’, comes a voice from behind him. She is there! Her body is pressing into his, and she breathes against his ear. She quickly spins in front of him. ‘Jump into the light, boy, jump and see heaven’.
‘I will, oh my god, I will’, says the young lad. With no doubt in his mind, William climbs on to the castellated wall and stretches out. ‘for ye are of this world, and my kingdom is not of this world!’ he recites John at the bright rune floating before him in the medieval sky above Worcester Cathedral. ‘I’m coming home!’he cries, and then leaps out into the night.
Descending the staircase, the girl slowly makes her way across the cathedral floor, and out - out into the night - through the great oaken doors, which slam firmly behind her.