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Northern Path, Southern Lens LP


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palmistry 03:13
Fatigue led failure, Excuses laboured, Time spent toiling, An old soul, Broken, alone. Words upon breaths now commemorated. At first a pause, then realise. The price you could have paid. Your innocence continues pleading. Not for value, or the sudden ending, That eternity couldn’t bring cessation, Privy to the palms of your hands, Into darkness, to grant you the rest He fell away from home, Into anonymity, While his love lies laboured in remand, A fog of insecurity, Is cast over the lost, Courage erodes from stone to sand.
silent breed 03:24
Forget what you know, Order imposed, A belief in beauty, Not true, just told. A distance which strives to grow a heart fonder. A product of doubt. Wish that life no longer, Absence is freedom tainted by incapacity, A foregone right. A silent breed. Adorn it with trust. Weary and worthless.
Dear human. Dear herd. Assumptions without context condemn the unknown. Dear blood and bone, Here’s to our merger of separate agendas, In a district of no hope. This is a satellite of courage on plains plagued by revulsion. Are we conditioned to contradict? Blood and bone. The interest of self holds steadfast before a path unknown. The bonds are bound. The power of fallacy judges and we're found. Dear hypocrite. Dear conformist. Know this palette is vital and that this is a time of colour. Dear blood and bone, Here’s to our merger of separate agendas, In a district of no hope. Rendering everything, From animosity to lethargy, the hateful breed, the fickle and stubborn, anew and familiar. Perceived loss in a sly escape, Leaves a timeless stay. For the sake of a welcome day, One time I’ll pay. Onwards to better things. An unescapable past that has never left you, Returns smiling, triumphant. Engage in a dialogue, A conversation, a wish. Tread a northern path, With a southern lens, Explore what lies ahead. Decisions are made, Actions are taken. Consultation is ignored or discarded. Your shadow will always come and go. We all fall alone.
Fortune’s fiction, A reward in keeping with conduct, A chance to see clearer, And savour something better. Scraping hollow victories, The loose bolt that decked the juggernaut, Victorious all the same, Hollow man, World pictured malformed. Fortune that favoured the fraud, A brave underworld is born. Justice turned, But privy to the norm. They hired the deceiver: bold and eloquent. Honour spelt in a smaller font, Distinguishing failure, As tenuous as it comes, A hollow man. The wager is sky high, It deceives the natural laws, We will bring it all down, One day it is sure to fall. We will tear it all down, Unescapable, It is sure to fall.
final throne 04:26
An identity and a context, Living in you, People and places marking time. Riddled with doubt, distance, Don't ever leave your door. Lost and found, Far from home, Consider this a final throne. Indifference, Carries on and on for you. What am I but the weak minded product of patriarchy? The daily order, For want of reason, A rodeo grip sets in, And I am achieving, For all which a life imagines, But fails to permit, Futility kept dreams, incongruous, But barely existing.
A proud stride now mutated into the senile shuffle of an old, decrepit man. His chin, previously propped up by an intrinsic belief, now lies just inches above the lifeline. False props from myself expended, As a device to see me through. Reverence was unintended, On this broken stage my esteem was vacant. And so he stays a spectator to being. Like a life lapse in passing and an existence which continues fasting. Pointless lies of my commitments, That damage ties from lips to ear. Though unhurt through this process of fiction, We’ll abandon our ways. Capable of crossing this bridge with closed eyes. Forced in, Time hindered. Bleak reflections of tail lights recall severed ties. Forced in and ever bitter. It was only then a peculiar kind of nauseousness came over him. Unrelenting. Water will not waken him. Ignorance will not save him. Too linear, the passage of time, a thought never borne. Forced in, time hindered, So kiss the air, dearest friend, hurt stays strong.
mid distance 04:24
This is the root of all doubt: the bold white line, etched upon the curtain, or the soft flared glow of candle light. The feline murmur only witnessed from the crook of your eye. These are the simplest distractions. For these conversations which lasted for two hours, early evening seem to intrude deep into the night. A nagging reminder of a life still sought, The beauty of resolve is not showing. No regard for the means, Not as clear as it seems. Obscure remains our mother tongue, Little point in picking speech apart. Serves to dilute a bond between two so thick. The weight of sleep triumphs over that of far. No regard for the means, Not as clear as it seems. We’ll engage in deconstruction of dialogue, Let’s destroy this bridge and put up a wall. We will revel in the despair of distance, And at its conclusion, We’re unblighted, Understanding, loved. Actions, belief, No regard for the means. Motive, intention, Not as clear as it seems.
sobotka 03:40
The truth which lies behind your answer will be the measure of your worth. The sum all your parts can't compare. Birth right. Injustice. There is no code left to follow, Only a plague on our politic. Clasped hands represent innocence. This gesture holds no significance. The illusion of intimacy is stoked by want, not by need. We dwell in a place bereft of conscience. No light. Dark follows dawn as dawn follows dusk. Tragedy is tossed aside and replaced by wilful hypocrisy. An impostor who knows no bounds and makes merry in unfamiliar territory. A disparate message precedes a desperate plea for salvation of any incarnation. Yet there’s one haven for hope. A sculpture to fidelity, A bridge raised by honesty. Home.
will i'm nae 03:38
Come inside, Close the door. Take a look around, Footprints led you home. Admit your faults in silence, Leave your mark and go. Your presence, Intertwined and distinct, A critic shadows you. Chapters of life are formed on vacant pages and enveloped by song. Guilt breeds words stillborn.
june 04:20
Hands move heavy as days of surrealism punctuate time. Lock ourselves away, lock ourselves in gaze. Mistaken by those acquainted and loathed those who raised you, Still lock ourselves away. Lock ourselves in gaze. He pours a drink. Dry cubes echo like contact cracked glass. A curious pursing of lips sidesteps the shrill ache cold can bring. This is a place where we are at once still young. Nobody can foster the words on the tip of your tongue. Only you can read the dread, When it’s written all over my face. To put you in your place, I wrote it how it needed to be read.


CARSON WELLS - Northern Path, Southern Lens LP
adagio830 nr 125


released April 27, 2015

Following their debut record 'Wonderkid', this record brings forth a much more honed sound. The songs, as well as the band, seem a lot more comfortable, as if they have really hit their stride.

The intricate 3-part vocals blend together beautifully, and the new tracks are musically and stylistically a good notch or two above their previous efforts, which is no mean feat. Keep your tissues at the ready for 'Northern Path, Southern Lens' and take a seat for the back half of 'June' as you let it wash over your body, absorbing you into the abyss pictured on the album's cover.


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adagio830 Berlin, Germany

Adagio830 started in 1997 as a small distro out of my bedroom and a little bit later the first release has been out. The Cole Quintet LP got co-released with various other Diy Labels back then and since then we released tons of records by friends and I´m proud of everything single releases I did over the years.
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