Split 10" with Transient

by The Communion

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  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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  • Limited Vinyl 10"
    Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    On Midnight Sea Records.

    "Ginger Ale" colored vinyl

    Includes unlimited streaming of Split 10" with Transient via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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about

On Midnight Sea Records.

credits

released March 22, 2010

Nick - Vocals
Lee - Guitar
Billy - Guitar
Jimmy - Bass/Noise
Joe - Drums

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about

The Communion

"The Communion (Long Island, NY) don't linger in one spot long enough to be easily defined or categorized. The metal/hardcore quartet can create angst-ridden explosions that make most power electronics bands seem "light," then on to black metal shrieking and blast-beat takeoffs that are just as easily swapped out for classic hardcore 2/4, and swinging sludge riffs akin to Eyehategod. -Wm. Berger ... more

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Track Name: Funeral Home Marionettes
Somnambulist screams into the carrion black reservoir. Edited to medicine, pain-living preferred to the unknown. Atypical reticence that leaves me to wonder what I ever wanted from them. Botfly tumblers up from alkaline wilderness. Fallout shadows flirting with lover flesh. Stared at but hidden like a concert hall crematorium. A crane left in a gelatinous skeletal state, distended belly in a lake of entrails, arsenic like sea-salt caking the doors of a river bottom pick-up. A doll head plucked off a wallpaper of ball gags. Check our hemoglobin for Aboriginal art. Caterpillars in bullet-cocoons that only mature through exit wounds, their flight patterns leaving a trace. Now painted in the smolder of a burning widow, Cloud-pointers damn pedophilia with their backs to the machete capes. The controlled wrath of cafeteria-pleasantries fooled you into a toll-free dream scape, orifice the one thought-barrier left to breach.
Track Name: Mausoleum Lothario
Quarantine applications went out today. Bedsore portholes dimpled in the wind, scaring up a junkyard substitute for an unknown soldier’s tomb. We floss with veins since our bones went in backwards. Calendar pages free falling like irradiated limbs. Footsteps ring out like crackling chicken fat caught on an arm’s length of barb. Every few years they say it’s their howl, obfuscating composition with message... embalming fluid with tetrotodoxin. AC/DC resurrections bringing us back kettle yelling mushroom gray.
Track Name: Postcards From Solitary
Hope those hands rest well on the shoulders my waters once softened to clouds of skin. I'm paying cause now the moisture is corroding both of us from within. Dumbed down to patterns, excused to conspiracies, but reality is so much more simple; there are no rhymes. Nothing really bothers us, but we're told that is why we end when really we don't know one calamity from the next. Sub-alchemy from nil-chaoticians who can't see that tombs have passed them by. Hope those vultures stay perched on the shoulders your fingers once kneaded like clay, cause ever since the circles have been declared off limits they've been itching for their scavenger days. And they will come... boundaries mean less to them than the expurgating seeds that spill to the floor while forms of you trace along instigating memories. Strings will keep being threaded until the rope is thick enough to pull off my head. I won't beg.... pressure will make me what i am.... surviving glass grenades that call to mind the puzzles we eventually wear down to the calcium... down to ingredients.... to molecule cookers and their jubilation wakes... tiny blown-off bones like chameleons wading on the surface of open oil drums.