Summer's End

Samhain (pronounced saw-in) is a Gaelic word meaning "summer's end", and referred to a harvest festival held in Ireland on October 31st.  Here in the upper Midwest summer's end comes a little earlier.  Today is a good day to celebrate Samhain.  Today is the last day of summer/first day of autumn.

What better way to celebrate Samhain than with music.  Today feels like a classic Norwegian black metal day, and what better way to explore the music of Norway than with some of the albums produced by Pytten and recorded at Grieghallen.

Early Burzum is kind of a joke but the trancey structure of Hvis Lyset Tar Oss is a breath of fresh air from the sometimes formulaic song structures of heavy metal bands.


Back before the webernets it was hard to find any information on these bands.  I was surprised to see Pytten and Grieghallen show up in so many liner notes.  For example what is clearly Emperor's best work



Thus Spake the Night Spirit.  They don't make them like that anymore.  Sadly neither did Emperor.

I thought Borknagar, aside from having a silly name, had an uneven debut album.



One of the better tracks.

Ain't gonna lie, I never bought into the whole Mayhem mystique.  But you gotta at least respect De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas

Freezing Moon, solid

I like that you can even find new things.  File Hades under "it's new to me".



There is definitely a certain pathos in the work that binds them together.

What more can I say?  The work speaks for itself.

For your autumnal studies

Falling leaves, cold precipitation, and grey skies; these make for a good autumn. And what can be better for a cold snap than something to warm your mind and spirit? I have said before and will state again; the Russians really know how to enjoy a good winter. Perhaps it is the Thoreau I'm reading that brings out the bucolic musings, but they are magnified by reading the Russian Romantics. And that is my advice to you when things get chilly.

Reading list: I have a great love of Anton Chekhov, but am now finding Turgenev to be near equal in greatness. His writing is quintessentially Romantic. We find a love of Western intellectuals coupled with a quixotic pastoralism - in contrast to the industrial revolution I should note - and a wistful longing for the atavism to an ancient lost time (one that surely never really was), and almost a reverence for the hinterland.

Listening mix: Tchaikovsky, naturally. Sure, there are other Russians, but none so good in winter. Blasphemy? Not Myaskovsky or Shostakovich? Surely I write in madness induced by cheap brandy! No sir, Tchaikovsky exemplifies the Russian soul. He is the archetypical romantic. And his love for winter is prevalent in his symphonies (Little Russian, 4th, 5th, and 6th).

Drinking mix: I haven't made any punch yet, but nothing warms the soul quite like hot cider and brandy. Get it while the cider is still in season, kids. Whiskey and water can wait; the cider mill is open for scarcely a few weeks. Also, in lieu of a samovar I have a thermal carafe filled with black tea. But more on that later I suppose.



The buds of spring end up the detritus of fall...



Autumn inexorably gives way to winter



Winter is a wonderland of lights in a time of darkness. The worst we can do is forget this in January and February, two very long months fast approaching.