Seeds of Nothing

by Analgesin

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Accompanying music film-

You know, I was thinking about whether two double albums in a year was a good idea, or at least one after another. SNSRY DPRVTN and this are only chronologically a few months apart, although work on SD traces all the way back to September of 2015. This album was made over the course of like 2 months maybe, but, it was definitely one of the strangest/most exciting experiences I've ever had recording music. I personally think it tops SNSRY, but of course I do, so that's not really for me to decide. Then again, in the words of my friend Ollie, music isn't a competition, make it the best you can and for that only. Thematically though, this is nearly a polar opposite of SNSRY. I'll go into that a bit, since that's what this section is for.

Sensory Deprivation was my outlet for my freshman/sophomore year angst, in the simplest of explanations. I had a lot of misplaced, confusing anger that came from both self-hatred, stress from the new environment, learning to make real friends who actually cared about my condition, and of course, learning to record on my own. One of my favorite "bands" really early on, was Nine Inch Nails, and part of that was because Trent did all of it, or most of it, himself. I found that really inspiring, despite him being an angsty bitch (I actually still love that music, but we all know it's true). During Sensory Deprivation, I honestly felt like that music was all I had. I was so confused and angry at everything, and to make matters worse, in love with one I couldn't have. It was the first time I ever "had feelings" or anything like that, and it fucked me up. Bad.

That feeling lasted until Sensory Deprivation was over, which was actually one of the main reasons I decided to quit SD. There is a huge duality between Analgesin and Sensory Deprivation, and it mainly lies in optimism. I know I still get really upset and still write songs about lost loves and stuff, but to quote Robert Smith, I only ever feel like writing when I'm sad or depressed. I'm not always like that, it's just that my favorite songs are rarely very happy. Anyway, SD pretty much just ended because I was tired of being so miserable all the time, and I felt like it'd be great to end on that climactic double album.

Analgesin was supposed to be a more optimistic Brenda, and so far, that has been achieved in my eyes. I think the songs are definitely sadder, but I'm rarely as angry as I used to be. I also learned a great deal of music theory, so the music is less dissonant, for better or worse. Or perhaps another thing; Sensory Deprivation was me doing Unwound; Analgesin is me doing The Microphones. The influences have shifted quite a bit, mainly because I knew a song like Gift Horse or Seed of Nothing would be out of place in Sensory Deprivation. But, let's talk about the album at hand.

What I've created is an accidental concept album. I knew I wanted another double album, but once I reached around 11 or 12 songs, I realized that the songs actually formed a narrative arc. An unoriginal one, but it's still there. I won't go into detail about that, since you can probably figure it out. It's very open to interpretation, I just found it amusing that the songs told a sort of story unintentionally. Let me know if you have an interpretation, if anyone actually listens to this.

As for the music itself, I think I've finally managed to feel comfortable writing under Analgesin, perhaps evidently, perhaps not. My guitar-playing and vocals in particular have improved a lot, I think at least. Been listening to lots of Smiths, R.E.M., Talk Talk, Slowdive, Mogwai, Red House Painters, Pavement, Mountain Goats, Miles Davis, and of course countless others, lately. I know those sounds, among tons of others, are on here, hopefully not as ripoffs. Jangly shoegazing, whispering and screaming, droning and syncopating, fuzzing and cleaning, and other overzealous descriptors baiting you into listening to this.

In all seriousness, this was a lot of hard work that got done surprisingly quick, probably due to my emotional state at the time. I consider myself to be of a relatively good mind at this point, I learned to love myself and others, and I learned to actually kind of enjoy existing. As terrible as it can be, I've gotten over the cynicism, and now I'm singing about it. It feels nice, hopefully it sounds nice. Enjoy whatever feeling this album gives. Thank you I guess. Meant to be listened to at extreme volumes.

Dedicated to Geneviève Elverum. It's a precious thing we lost.


released August 28, 2016

Brendan MacBrayne- Guitaring, Bassing, Drummering, Melodicaing, Glockenspieling, Harmonicaing, Vocaling, Pianoing, Organing, Synthing, Brushing, Microphoning, Counting, Button Pushing

Naomie- cover, production, writing on Russian

Phil Elverum- Writer of Headless Horseman



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Home of Hyosis, Analgesin, Sensory Deprivation, Chester Sidewalks, and plenty more. Enjoy the noises...

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Track Name: Seed of Nothing
Some plagues last a lifetime. All end in the same way. The victims never count. Numbers but not names. They gather around. Watch in excitement. Fascination in yr destruction. Left by their own. They didn't want it. But, somehow they did. The dance began and others joined in. We all are guilty, but it's in our nature. You know what I mean, we all are equal. "We're trying to feel!" They spoke with courage. "Even if it's over, at least we lived!"
Track Name: Gift Horse
The first step of this cave-in. Involved dropping the logic. Through the discarded. I found my amenity. Partly out of panic. Anxiety only building by hour. Increments of time pile like bricks. Gravitation towards those similar. Betrayed by time. A vaporware of a man. Earthen, but ethereal. Ancient, but modern. Perfection is religion. A myth to perpetrate restraint. Design of the face to hide a discontent. What makes us beautiful? What is the deformed? What is an image? Why keep youth in a mason jar? To synthesize purity is to fill a void. To paint a mistake. Is to hide a despair. Discard logic. Life is a gift horse.
Track Name: A Life Without Soma
The feeling when the eyes begin to lean. The moment when thought turns to auto. The realization that this is all that matters. The feeling of ecstasy only to shame. Dressing up real nice for the changing season. Only waiting to unravel the paper. All screaming away and fending each other. All forcing us down the same way. She tempts us all with oboes and saxophones. She masterfully quotes all our favorite poets. She portrays a soulless maiden. She knows my songs of love and hate. The hatcheries all running their courses. Couples weaving in and out. All full of soma and love. All emotionless and animalistic. Love as a pilgrimage. No longer just a means to an end. Love has gained momentum. It's my turn to take. Loss of the maiden name. Hatched away from the original. Love maybe for a year. Love during our sessions. Self-mortifying as defense. Witness of who isn't orthodox. Let's pack it in brothers. This has happened, I'm done.
Track Name: Distorted Symmetry
She stares at me from the water. Begging for my presence. She gazes at me from the fire. Begging for me to douse the warmth. I stare at myself from the clouds. Rushing so quickly to the end. Playing the reels of my memory. Distorted but, beautiful in the same. Reel to reel, with analog sound. Life on a piece of plastic. Every single thing I felt. Every little moment I loved. She loved me for a moment. When life was new for both of us. We'd lay and laugh until we cried. Now all I have left is to cry. Meeting both as virgins of time. Both in Thomas's words. In pursuit of love, liberty, and happiness. One body moreso than the other. As challenging as it is to swim. This sea was always worth the trip. I dove into this ocean. Every current was an option, but I settled quickly. Reel to reel, with analog sound. Life on a piece of plastic. Every single thing I felt. Every little moment I loved. She loved me for a moment. When life was new for both of us. We'd lay and laugh until we were stuck. Now all we have left is to smile.
Track Name: Warfarin
With hands on my brain and legs weaving through mine. These words scream through my head. Begging to be heard by another. I wore yr scars on my chest like a purple heart. You bore mine as if they were a cross. I wear silver for gallantry. To you it's just interruption. A signal struggling to be transmitted. Forcing the listener to stay aware. To me, it's a sermon of stimulus. To you, a frequency of disturbance. Disturbance on the shortwave. Static as a mandate. Although it was never said to be over. The beacon was still prevented. Now the listener thinks it's all gone. No more dancing and educating. "Is there cipher?" You say. Use the correct one, I say. Consider the impact. You control it all. I can only influence. I can only impede. So ask yourself this much. What actually is objective? What can you chase as a loner? What will you do without my transmission? Will you still dance to dead air? Will you consider joining that force? Will you break the iron curtain? It's all on you now. I'm in the right to be scared for you. But, like a child, one day you're free. I'm always above, still transmitting my sermon. You can take it or leave it. Thanks for listening, and goodnight.
Track Name: Silver Mirror
Supply me with a dosage. Enough to displace the letters. Maybe one day a synthesis. More prone to combust. From acid to starch, and sulfide to oxide. Combination reactions. Looking through a silver mirror. Considered myself a noble, already plenary. Actually in transition. Needed 5 more. Existing now with stability, nothing to interfere. Alkali seeping through. All the way to the six. With warped perception. Like a barking dog, or sodium with a pair of hydrogen, all things eventually burst...
Track Name: Love as Pilgrimage
Never requited and only inklings of notice. I wonder if they even knew, it was only believed to be unrequited. A history of compassion that only was neglect. Forced us both into corners. A trail of shards behind her. A trail of bread behind me. For her, a love lost. For me, a love never seized. We both hate the dreaded L-word. But, what else could in it be? At least I know not to maneuver. We know what we want, not him. Is anything sacred? Or is it all just the id? We still hate the L-word, but that doesn't mean it's not there. It's up to you to give up, I beg of you to linger. To warm my cold figure. Let's requite this. We can share a canvas. We can share these words.
Track Name: The World is a Dead Moon
Silence is killing membranes. Allowing my mind to screech out every word. No influence from the outside. No window to even glance. Drifting through the pages of my mind. A ship without a rudder. No longer connected to a womb. Never again connected to a life. The distant is becoming near. The cryptic becoming evident. The familiar becoming strangers. The anguish changing suffix. Dysphoria is now a way of life. Eyes acting as a mirror that only distorts. Mother, my body failed me. I am as dead as our moon. Am I alive?
Track Name: Headless Horseman
I got hit hard. I'm on the ground. And if you swing again I'll duck, and I wish you the best of luck. You deserve yourself and I'll return from my trip to hell as a headless horseman. Cause "O What a loss!" I went back to get my stuff and it was tangled up and tough. I stood there and stared you down and I walked aimlessly around with a flaming pumpkin head. O What a loss! My soft hands replaced by claws. You turned me into a stray dog from a mighty human man. O what a loss! O What a loss. I miss my closest friend, and now I cling to rocks in wind. It's a precious thing we lost.
Track Name: Henry's Ode
Proclamations of suffering, spoken softly over the walls. Screaming out through the windows. Now settled as an anchor. The artist needed loneliness. To give you this ode. Did the artist want loneliness? To end up by the bridge. Running from the demons. If you close your eyes, they hide away. As quickly as you rush. They're still staring down. Now faced with little options. The artist takes a tour. He wanders to the fields at night. He walks below the lake.

Quickly realizing what this means. He emerges from the lake. Sees his life upon the screen. Finally awake.
Track Name: Lapidem
I've no more to extrovert. Nothing for the silver wall. No cars to drive up and see me. No vivid pictures to paint a distant life. My projector has burned out. As all the maps to me have waned. Sure my films they still exist. But, that's all they really are. A stream of colour. Or a machine gun of warmth. Like the wall of sound you hear. That's what I once felt. Now my chest is a minor 3rd. The light that went out. Still I have a simulation. But, like a stamp of japan, it only goes so far. Lesson learned, to stay a rock. It was wrong to clutch for dear life. So now it's me? My island of opium, no foreigners in?
Track Name: Requiem for?
Please let me in. It's cold. Let me say it. Please repeat it
Track Name: Russian
Father figures always said, "To love someone else, you gotta love the one you are. To share, you need to possess." Learned to live through another. Panic in the veins of my brain. Thinking through vulnerability. Opening my wound to land of germs. But, not all germs were bad. In came the ailment. As my brain once said, "All of this, with no reward." Logic was the first thing to leave. As I assumed the others would. But, even art can be wrong. Cracked, but not broken. In love, the most bittersweet phrase. Like a wound of pretty color. Unexplained and diverse. But, I'm in love with the world. Through the eyes of a woman, not a girl. Sink or swim, I'm attending. I couldn't and I can't help the descent.