Эх, достучался админушка своим спамом до моего готичного сердечка. Единственная проблема готики (как и в целом пост-панка) для меня — слишком всё единообразно и однообразно, но это можно как плюс засчитать.
Случайно еще наткнулся на Twin Tribes — это, конечно, то еще эпигонство по 80-ым, но все равно приятно послушать некоторые вещи.
А вот готик-метал так и не удалось полюбить, сколько я не пытался. Месяцами себя мучал с альбомами Katatonia, My Dying Bride, Anathema, Tiamat, Paradise Lost, Moonspell и Type O Negative.
Ну вообще не идет никак кроме нескольких песен. Только Brave Murder Day от всё той Кататонии можно выделить, действительно прекрасный альбом.
Katatonia, My Dying Bride, Anathema, Tiamat, Paradise Lost, Moonspell и Type O Negative.
Lifelover послушай.
Соме моар оффтопик:
I feel so out of place I cannot show my face How could it be Does anyone like me? They leave me far behind I think they must be blind No one can see It's like they stare through me
How can you treat the world this way? Watch others suffer while you play (I'm transparent) You stare with pure insanity You missed what's really inside me (How could it be) I pass into the other side Where there is nothing left to hide (Does anyone like me?) And I can roam and wander free I think I found eternity
Alone I start to cry But no one wonders why I'll never bleed I feel like I've been freed The world just passes by And tramples where I lie They'll never see The love inside of me
I'm transparent How could it be Does anyone like me?
How can you treat the world this way? Watch others suffer while you play (I'm transparent) You stare with pure insanity You missed what's really inside me (How could it be) I pass into the other side Where there is nothing left to hide (Does anyone like me?) And I can roam and wander free I think I found eternity
I'm transparent How could it be Does anyone like me?
I'm transparent How could it be Does anyone like me?
Мы тоже пальцем не деланные, лайфловер это не готика, а скучный БДСМ ДСБМ. Мне в этом жанре Silencer хватает, там и вокал получше, и музыканты подкованнее.
Случайно еще наткнулся на Twin Tribes — это, конечно, то еще эпигонство по 80-ым, но все равно приятно послушать некоторые вещи.
На тему поливания девочек говном:
There's so much wrong in your life and you wish you could turn back time no time for sorrow, no time to regret you're drowning in the sands of time
But life goes on day by day, and all your faults will remain.
You walk away, you walk away. from the place you loved before without me there is nothing, that will make you stay.
You walk away, you walk away. from the place you loved before you won't look back, 'cause there's nothing more for you to say.
You keep all the memories in your heart. You know they will keep you from being free. You walk with the devil deep inside, as long as you're not able to forget
Lying in bed With a gun to my head I am slumberless Memories seep into fathoms of deep Disillusionment Pillow of red Futile thoughts never said It's all gone
Take it away This sadness And pain Heart grown cold Through tales of old
Funeral feast Bringing violent beasts To the parlor floor Fortune and fame Will not be quite the same It's an open door Nothing to give Nothing to get Make it stop
Did you hear her Pull the trigger Never knowing Blood was flowing Down, down, down, down
Poetry page Showing nothingness And rage Death is my home Where I shall roam
In the land of destiny There is a void that can’t be felt
We negotiate starvation In the land of milk and honey We live in opulence and decadence And yet it’s not enough
Praising our deficiencies We’d rather close our eyes than see Gorging is much easier If we can look the other way
In the lap of luxury The house of cards will fall
We drown in wine And you in water The die is cast Our eyеs can see
Shout at the voices They will not bе heard Shout at the voices They will not be heard Shout at the voices
In the lap of luxury The house of cards will fall I’m your toxic symmetry Break and correct, break and correct me
Break and correct me Break and correct me
Praising our deficiencies We’d rather close our eyes than see Gorging is much easier If we can look the other way
In the lap of luxury The house of cards will fall I’m your toxic symmetry Break and correct, break and correct me Break and correct, break and correct me Break and correct, break and correct me Break and correct
Drink with me To share the weight, Speak to me with an open heart.
It's all the same, If we don't try. Forget the dream, I'm lost inside.
In solitude I hit the ground, Peace of mind Remains unsound.
We can let go With open arms, Don't paint the picture That you need,
Find answers To what I don't ask, Bring back the kindness To your mask.
You tire my heart, You steal my wings, Anywhere I lay my head.
The waning moon in A turbid night sky. The strident voice with Unending feedback.
There were flimsy excuses, There were hundreds of stories, There were loose ends, untieable, There were obvious head fakes.
There were Plenty of warnings, You've seen it coming. I'm really sorry, You're not conforming To the escape plan.
The glistening sun in The hungry morning. Suburban idyll All drenched in sepia.
Homogeneity The proper choices, Fading reminders Your dreams mean nothing.
There were landfills of data, There were gigabytes, terabytes, There were attacks from all sides, There were obstructed exits.
And there is Your stagnant heartbeat.
There were Plenty of warnings, You've seen it coming. I'm really sorry, You're not conforming To the escape plan.
Хехе, мало того что вокалист выглядит как Тилль из румштайнят, так и синты навевают Pussy.
Цитата
Blutengel (стилизация с немецкого: Blutiger Engel — Кровавый Ангел) — немецкая музыкальная группа, исполняющая музыку в стилях дарквейв[1], синтипоп, Готик-рок.
Кто-то закидывал сюда The Waning Moon, спасибо, схоронил себе. Немного схематично, но пойдёт ввиду усталости от готики 80-ых.
Наконец прошёлся немного по Diary of Dreams, альбом 2014 года помню по пабликам вк гулял, самое время спустя 12 лет про него вспомнить — приятный бархатный вокал, клавишные наваливают, но не хватает плотной басухи, что грустно.
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