Rainmaker​/​Øjne split


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released March 23, 2015

Instruments recorded by Ola Sandberg at Discrete Motion Recordings, Malmö.
Vocals recorded by Pancho at Djungel Studio, Eslöv.
Mixed by Ola Sanberg in Eslöv & Montreal.
Mastered by Steve Roche at Permanent Hearing Damage Studio, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Artwork by Christian Brix at KIDS Artworks (kidsartworks.wordpress.com)

Øjne: ojne.bandcamp.com

Vinyl release by: Dog Knights Productions [UK]




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RAINMAKER Eslöv, Sweden

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Track Name: Le Poids Des Ombres
Des secondes d'excitation dans une vie remplie de vide.
Le matin, on peine à se lever, le poids est immense,
les jambes fléchissent et les mains tremblent.
Des secondes d'exaltation dans une existence vide de sens.
On se réveille en apnée, à jouer avec la mort,
des cœurs engourdis, de la sueur sur le front.

On court la plupart de nos années
après d'éphémères moments de bonheur,
dans un souci d'échapper à l'ennui.
On s'approche alors doucement vers la décadence,
enchaînés aux murs de leurs bâtiments,
on deviendra les esclaves de leurs constructions.


Dans l'infime espoir de pouvoir un jour apercevoir au loin
le bout de la mer, juste pour quelques heures, prélassé,
pouvoir regarder de plus loin la mort qui s'étale devant mes yeux.
Mais ce que je veux vraiment, c'est regarder la lumière se tuer
et laisser place aux ombres, sombres esquisses portées sur des visages
pâles, des silhouettes difformes pliant sous les cataractes qui les écrasent par terre.

Coule ma vie, sur le sable imperméable.
Flotte l'espoir, sur le flot de mes palabres.
Glissent mes larmes, sur mon visage trop pâle.
Je crève la gueule ouverte !

And the rain will draw the outlines of their cells,
Of their shaky skeletons in unoccupied bodies,
Streaming tears revealing our faded graves,
In which we'd wish to fall asleep...

Je dois avouer qu'en temps sombres,
Sauter d'un pont n'est pas une option négligeable



Seconds of excitement in a life filled with emptiness
In the mornings we struggle to get up, the huge weight bends our legs and our hands tremble.
Seconds of exaltation in a meaningless existence,
We wake up holding our breath, dicing with death; benumbed hearts and sweat drips on our brows.

We spend most of our lives running after
Transitory moments of happiness
For the sake of escaping ennui.
Getting closer and closer to our decadence,
Chained to the walls of their buildings
We become the slaves of their constructions.


With the tiniest hope to someday be able to glimpse at the tip of the sea, just for a few hours, lounging; and from afar, be able to watch the death fanning out in front of my eyes.
But, what I want to, what I really want to; is to stare at the dying light and its fading shadows, the dark sketches covering the palest faces, the misshapen-silhouettes folding under the cataracts crushing them.

My life flows on the impermeable ground,
The hope floats on my palavers’ flow,
My tears slip on my pale countenance,
I perish, mouth wide-open.

And the rain will draw the outlines of their cells
Of their shaky skeletons in unoccupied bodies,
Streaming tears revealing our faded graves,
In which we’d wish to fall asleep.

I’ve got to admit that at dark times,
Jumping off a bridge is not a negligible option.