All 500 first-press limited edition CDs are presented in bespoke packaging, hand assembled and hand numbered by the artist. Includes lyric sheet insert.
Includes immediate download of 10-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.
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edition of 500
Immediate download of 10-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.
If you are the last person to die on any given New Year’s Eve you will be employed for the next calendar year (sadly this will feel like eternity to you) as the driver of death’s carriage. You’ll reap the souls of men and point them wordlessly in the direction of…whatever it is that may or may not come next…
I’ve been death’s horse for thousands of years. I’ve reaped the best of ‘em and I’ve reaped the worst of ‘em, yo. I’ll be frank, after a few millennia the gig was getting repetitive. Pestilence’s horse once described the whole scenario to me in hushed tones as, in fact, being ‘long as fuck’.
I couldn’t have put it better myself. Whinny.
So yeah, there’s me all tired of the screaming pleas of those who try to argue with fate and then I realize ‘Oh, hold up, there’s a new driver due in a bit’. That cheered me a bit. I had a tea and I nodded, thinking about it.
Happily last New Year’s Eve Mark Estall was buried under the famous Barcelonian monument Griffin’s Bunny following it’s inevitable and crushing collapse. While all others were rescued or picked off by my master’s claw (a dull fellow named James as it goes – a former music journalist if you can imagine anything as unpleasant) Estall survived until the very moment of the clock striking twelve. Unlucky, son.
Sure, he moaned a bit when his destiny became clear – standard, yo. But once we’d been out on a couple of fakking kills together and had a decent natter it became clear we would develop something of a fruitful fruit of a sideline. See now I’ve always been a keen poeter and something of a music hall visitor, truth be told. Estall turned out to have a strange post-life ability to transcribe my various musical missives via a new-found tune describer homed where his stomach may have used to have been, like.
In between casting motherfuckers into the flames and shit like that, we cut a record, y’all. A bastard of a record it is as well. A right proper blindin’ beast-bitch.
We’ve had to jack in the dayjobs and return to the human/equine realm in order to do promo and gigs and shit but, like, that’s another story…
Have a listen and we almost definitely won’t take your soul.
released 12 November 2012
All songs written by Michael James Hall.
Performed by Michael James Hall and Mark Estall.
Arranged and produced by Mark Estall.
Mastered by Assaf Gidron.
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