Scavengers EP

by Ahab's Ghost

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Scumbag
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Scumbag Still a raw sound carrying on from where After The Fall left off. This time, though, with the soundscapes broadening to encompass a thematic whole. I think the vocals could have used a bit more time in production to better meld with the music rather than seeming to battle with it, particularly in the first two tracks. Overall: raw, energetic and worthy of a listen! Favorite track: A Wake of Vultures.
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about

3 song thematic EP

credits

released April 20, 2013

Jake Hess: Guitar
Sam Wallman: Drums
Joe Widen: Bass/Vocals

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about

Ahab's Ghost Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Since the band's inception in 2009 they have bombarded listeners and with a unique and engaging sound that is as ear catching as it is aggressive. Their delivery of thunderous tones, gain, pure volume and speed has made a footprint print in Milwaukee's music scene.
New recordings are underway for another self produced EP and studio full length.
Peace, Love, Sweat, and Rock n' Roll,
Ahab’s Ghost
!
... more

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Track Name: An Unkindness of Ravens
Command from below, beasts of the air.
Flyers syncopate, scavengers stare.
Black lurking horde, portent of doom.
Dead eyes gaze, destiny looms.

But when the deed is done,
To birth the bastard son,
Return to evil's haven,
Omens delivered from an unkindness of ravens.

Arrows from the bow, the mountains harken.
Begotten of the flame, horizon darkens.
Banners of the sun, the stars forewarn.
Signs from above, impending swarm.
Track Name: A Murder of Crows
First sparks of flame's ignition,
Within the arcane mission.
Torches lit for the sinners,
Pyramid's beginner.

A murder of crows,
The murderous throes.
A murder of crows,
Harbinger of your demise!

Despotic throne's erection,
Earth's slow dissection.
A champion of inception,
Scroll of deception.
Track Name: A Wake of Vultures
Dust clears, red sun riseth.
Sandy dusk, heat chastiseth.
Sky legion, inerrant flight.
Cries ring out, bred by night.

Scavenge flesh, torn away from bone.
Silent sanctum, perched on the stone.
A haze of bane, a punishing breath.
Clouds overhead, the flock of death.

A wake of vultures circles overhead.
The songbirds wallow in defeat.
No use in fighting, you'll soon be dead.
And then you'll grovel at their feet.

A wake of vultures circles overhead.
The songbirds wallow in defeat.
They show no mercy, they're so unkind.
Murder babes at mothers teat.

When the frosted green sky found beauty and was betrayed, the town was windowless, and like a woman’s body, it was ransomed in the night.
Two instruments, both flawed, both old. Good friends, they skirmished in the forests, driven since childhood toward the place, apparitions of the wilderness.
She invited madness. Her terror was her weapon, her sins her food. Hunger was crushing her. She was afflicted.
He crowded the afternoon. His story became something older than stone, and perhaps his past was lonely, but he broke the window of time and listened.
They shouted, “This goblet is affection.” Torches broke the silence, blindly kneeling to their bleeding leaders, and the march into twilight burned them to ashes.
Blood for nothing. The firelight remained buried in the darkness of the eastern sky until, at last, their weapons, frail and betrayed, demanded peace. There was nothing left.