Sick With Bloom

by Yellow Eyes

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With two full lengths and a handful of splits & EPs, Yellow Eyes have honed their distinctive black metal style: unpredictable, narrative-driven compositions that shift fluidly between melodic fanfare and unsettling dirge. The guitars and drums rage like a passing storm, with short moments of respite before the oncoming surge.

Their new album, Sick With Bloom, encloses the listener beneath a canopy of atmosphere and mood that hangs without interruption until the album’s closing moments. This is enhanced by the inclusion of numerous field recordings captured during the album’s production at an isolated cabin in the northern woods of Connecticut. You can feel the surrounding wilderness seeping through into the music. A sound elevated by the vibrations of ancient growth and echoes of nature’s power.

Sick With Bloom was recorded on tape, mixed, and mastered by the band themselves, brothers Will and Sam Skarstad. The album also features M. Rekevics (of Fell Voices, Vanum, Vorde) on drums.


released December 11, 2015


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Gilead Media Oshkosh, Wisconsin

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Est. 2005.


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Track Name: Sick With Bloom
I walk beside a manmade pond
With sloping walls
Sick with bloom
To cut the nausea of the carpet slick
They placed six spotlights
Dimly shining
Making amber of the brine
Black seeds and blinded shrimp
Held in the cones

I dreamed of true magnetic north
The water drained
Black boulders shone like greased backs
The draping skin
A muscle twitch
A fish would crawl out of its scales
To break the skin on the pond
To cut the nausea of the carpet slick
Instead of standing dimly on the wall

Magnetic north is pounding in my ears
True north is somewhere deep inside the amber cones
Track Name: Streaming From the Undergrowth
Forty yards of clearing
Kept the houses from the pines
Each day the village heat was drawn
And spread to cool

And even at eight bells I saw that night was forming
Rags and strings and strips of shade
Were lowered like a curtain at midday
The stiffness of wet burlap
And the nagging of the torrent
Hissing somewhere underground

I know it very well
For I am drawn and spread
Yes, streaming from the undergrowth
Night arrived in search of me
Track Name: What Filters Through the Copper Stain
A shifting boulder pierced my side
When I was young
And I let silence
Pinch powder into seeds
Inside the black box

When I woke up
The patch of skin was new
Sewn up with glass

The winter
Livestock tried to scream
I bled
I faked it
Stole the coat from him
Bore tunnels
Couldn't keep her
Never found the inlet in the lake
Looked up when there was darkness in the hall

A copper stain had shrouded me
In blue and red and green
The colors of the earth, but more serene
Track Name: Mangrove, the Preserver
The mangrove, the preserver, holds its tongue
As flashlight cones are whimpering
And twitching like a hand

Sighing without sound or light
The dense lungs of the waterline
Where flatness asks the water in
To fall through lit rafters
Spearing like a shiv of dust

To meet it, the preserver
Which is mangrove here but winter there
Do not probe your fearfulness and pride
Just try to shimmer by
Without a look into the pit
On your way to Dresden on a train
Your luggage close
Your bulging gut that's rooted through
With hairline strands of thread and loam
It wants it
The smell of mud
Through the cold glass with one small scratch
The mangrove, the preserver, holds its tongue
Track Name: Fallen Snag
On the flats
The fever yields
There isn't any wisdom left
I'll build a barn and watch it mold
How sulfur sours Greenland's breath

I thought the elders leaning in
Had maps, kinetics, ancient bole
But now I see their wooden faces
Lined with dusk and pale
Beholden to an early song
Still coiled on the rotten mother's meal

And as the pine becomes the snag
The evening widens

Don't leave me on the flats
The fever yields
There isn't any wisdom left
I'll build a barn and watch it mold
How sulfur sours Greenland's breath
Track Name: Ice in the Spring
It was night above
But yellow at the rim
My last days here were spent
Raising the fence
To keep the glow from seeping in

Beyond the gate
I knew the crystal chandelier
Had released its spokes into the watercourse
The cathedral in the fog unmanned
The sunken meadow with no guilt
Began to ache
But in my last days here
I locked the gate
And turned the mirror
So that the silver side was looking at the paint

It was night above
But yellow at the rim
There is ice in the spring
There is ice in the spring

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