Apparitions - Single

by Through Waves

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This summer, sprite Raine Holtz comes out of her enchanted woodland shack and goes a-hunting for hairy things...

Anticipating Through Waves’ new album “Eidolon”, the single “Apparitions” offers two new outstanding pieces woven with greatest delicacy and care, showcasing Raine’s always impeccable sense of style with eerie acoustic guitars and her signature hurdy-gurdy. Chanting along a seemingly gentle and innocuous search for what ultimately can only be described as a desperate sexual necessity, she is fearlessly crossing the enclosed woods to find her gruesome lumberjack lover. Never before her desires were so openly spread, as she seems to care less and less about respecting the boundaries of the world; and while her life dwindles and fades into her inscrutable loneliness, she attempts to make the most out of what is probably the last of her summers, ignoring her foul condition in the miserable hope of finding love. This March, lumberjacks are chopping down trees, and Through Waves’ belle vielliste is gladly sitting atop their morning woods…

credits

released March 20, 2016

TSH111
Written, composed, designed & produced, as well as recorded & engineered by Raine Holtz at The Schooner Harbour Studio.
Photograph by Jennyfer Loesch.
© 2016 Through Waves/The Schooner Harbour

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Through Waves Curitiba, Brazil

Through Waves: the sad enchantments of Raine Holtz.
Brazilian world fusion/darkwave solo act.

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Track Name: Lumberjacks Are Felling Trees
Leaves are raining down
And all critters are fast asleep
The gentle spells that hang upon the wood
Are faint and lost their imposing warmth

Nothing comes this way
Yet out of the shack I venture
Past the rivers and knolls
Where he might be

I follow the trail of stumps
And search for the iron blows of his might
All growing things are hurt by him
Even my growing wish to get near
He tells me amidst the pipesmoke
“Sprite, all dead wood must fall
For new things to grow and thrive”
Such are the perils of his toil

I am the witchbride
Veiled and unrequited
He’s really all I could ever hope for
For I am always relentlessly alone
And at this point I fear
That this might never, ever change
This wooden heart craves for his axe
To cut through the bark and find life within
Track Name: The Furtive Lover
He came with the first light of spring,
When the boughs gently rose from their icy sleep.
He spiraled a ring around my twig-finger,
And said “love, until the day I die”.

He pulled down the curtain of still rain,
And curled upon my breast like a rabbit.
He was the first flush of the season,
The only man I would ever have.
Lulling spells that made him stay
Were weaved by powers beyond my care,
When in the secrecy of loneliness
His gestures somehow waned.

I would be the furthest thing away
From Love’s promise and maiden charms.
As would all the mothers say,
I could not be the vessel for the needs of men.
Yet by the river his raft surely comes
Greeted by the otters’ trust.
And near the hour when no-one sees,
He is content with what I’ve been brewing all day.

Sad is the bane of women such as me
Who harbour the hatred of noble and fragile masculinity,
Ever hiding below the layered skirts
The cruelest apple of immense disgust.
How would I give away a love that is in decay,
The things no-one would care to hear?

Only hidden he comes,
Bearing flowers of his steady pride.
For such is the trade for not being alone,
I must tend for the guarded secret of our bones.
Then, and only then would he enter my den
And share with me the ever-lovely degree
Of the gentleness everyone denied me.
Track Name: Lumberjacks Are Felling Trees (acoustic version)
Leaves are raining down
And all critters are fast asleep
The gentle spells that hang upon the wood
Are faint and lost their imposing warmth

Nothing comes this way
Yet out of the shack I venture
Past the rivers and knolls
Where he might be

I follow the trail of stumps
And search for the iron blows of his might
All growing things are hurt by him
Even my growing wish to get near
He tells me amidst the pipesmoke
“Sprite, all dead wood must fall
For new things to grow and thrive”
Such are the perils of his toil

I am the witchbride
Veiled and unrequited
He’s really all I could ever hope for
For I am always relentlessly alone
And at this point I fear
That this might never, ever change
This wooden heart craves for his axe
To cut through the bark and find life within