EP

by Arête

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08:59
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Cassette and lathe cut vinyl available at:
fragilebranch.com/collections/245394-fragile-branch-releases

"Arête is perfect for an introspective walk through the woodlands, a hike up the mountains, or nearly any getaway from the desolate concrete walkways of civilization as we know it."
-CVLT Nation

"It is indeed a melancholy and haunting piece, building from isolated strumming to an urgent gallop as Ravenwood‘s scalding, wraithlike voice shrieks in the distance. When the pace slows again, it becomes achingly somber and entrancing, the rippling guitar melody flowing like mist through a high twilight forest, beautiful and foreboding."
-No Clean Singing

"Arête have an honesty and rawness to them that gives these songs real strength and character. As excellent as this EP is, it hints at greater things to come; this band is definitely one to watch closely."
-The Sound Not the Word

credits

released July 12, 2016

Dylan: Guitars, Drums
Chase: Guitars
Paul: Vocals, Folk Instruments
Nick: Lyrics
Patrick: Visuals

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Arête

Melancholic Mountain Black Metal from the Rocky Mountains, the Appalachian Mountains, and the Black Hills.

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Track Name: Sojourner
A lonely wanderer along these facets, crystalline sojourner treading the edge of a sapphire, celestial jewel of eternity. Forces tear in unholy frenzy. My cloak whips in this wind across the endless gulf. Each weary step upon this smooth surface takes my husk further out, further beyond the touch of humanity, of civilization, beyond the velvet kiss of your voice. The only voices upon me are the tongues of space and time, meaningless concepts crushed and shattered, scattered across the void. My journey commences. My journey continues. Alone.
Track Name: Unquiet Passing
The unquiet passing of the year is seasoned in dead hues, the tones of rot and finality. The brittle leaves, like pale shards of glass, whisper through wooded vales, through empty forgotten fields, to hold a somber court. In wild and forgotten corners, in the shoulders of old roots, in the mud, the frame of reflection. It speaks in notes, its voice the ether, a thick shroud of grey. Fractured by the spreading fingers of darkened naked boughs, emptied of leaves, emptied of me. It speaks in the cries of distant geese, they sing a wild lament, offering an echoing requiem for the end of all.