My black metal albums tend to group into loose trilogies and I usually find the middle albums of these trilogies the most difficult to assemble. This is true of Young Eagle: I generated more outtakes during the recording of this album than any other – there is easily another album's worth of material I created while exploring different possible directions (the track “Detritivore” from Fallen Empire's SVN-OKKLT compilation was created during this period between Old Ways and Young Eagle). I felt it was necessary to explore different directions because I knew I could not continue under the strict constraints of the style I established with Old Ways: the dense sound processing so greatly privileged timbre over pitch content that all attempts at complex polyphony were rendered indecipherable. The balance between timbral complexity and clarity of line is difficult to find. The tracks that actually made it on the album were recorded in disparate sessions and the album was pieced together painfully. This is my only black metal album without bass guitar and the only one with acoustic guitar. The title track was the last track written and recorded and its shifting asymmetric meters and contrapuntal leads represented, after many false starts, a way forward.
Porcine masses shepherded into cages of plastic and concrete and gleaming steel. Bow in reverence to the freedom of automated defense systems and congenital defects. A brave new world, sick and shining. Hegel's Geist stillborn at last. Suckling blood and oil from the lactating stigmata of Christ.
Track Name: Glory at Hand
A world of automatic doors and concrete dinosaurs. Cherubs born of depleted uranium. One last supper of yellow cake before being purified with the blood of a million lambs. This is the fruit of the dual trinities. The cruciform shadows of nuclear angels ejaculating manna from the heavens. Worship death and your savior will always be near.
Track Name: The Wine-Halls Are Crumbling
Blind tigers and mules. Trash-can fires and neon lights. The harmony of total murder. Black smoke like a veil over the stars. Earth worn out like a garment. La der des ders: the last of the last. God is love but life is cheap.
Track Name: What a Bird Bore Away Over the Deep Ocean
In winter we make the spring. In summer, the harvesting. I feel the nothing accumulate as days go by. I feel the weight of every passing sun and moon. In autumn we search and store. In springtime, we wanted more.
Track Name: The Might of Ash Spears
Two hours of spiritual warfare: Hell’s great doors slamming one last time. From twisted girders and ash and silhouettes cast on ruined temples emerge the wellsprings of paradise. In the smoke that ascends forever I see God and Man united. Oh, Lord. This is the day of Your sweetest mercy.
Track Name: Young Eagle
Let the dying die, and the perishing perish. Let those who are left eat one another's flesh. Curses are the fruit of the body, the sweet savor of one billion burnt offerings. A door has opened somewhere. Young Eagle is born. Spread your legs so I can see.