"And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death."

I have been privileged to hear a preview of the new Sublinear album, Masque of the Red Death. It is, take my word for it, fantastic and terrifying! Red Death lacks the trip-hop beats of its predecessor, Pinned Beneath the Boiling Sky, but it shares--and surpasses!--the deep orchestral textures and atmosphere of inescapable dread. Friends, this is really frightening music.

The album will launch tomorrow, October 1st, on the netlabel This Plague of Dreaming. I will update with the link after it goes live. The full album is, as usual, free to download.

UPDATE: The album can be found HERE. Download without delay! If you like us, you will love Sublinear.

"And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all."



I just can't seem to drag this blog into the 20th century...

The following is reprinted from The Student, or, The Oxford and Cambridge Monthly Miscellany (1751), for your grueful diversion (with the original explanatory footnotes). A tip for modern readers: eighteenth century printing used the 'long s' [ſ] at the beginning and in the middle of words, and the 'short s' [s] at the end. It can take a little getting used to, but I've retained it because I think it adds to the archaic charm of the piece.

O D E to H O R R O R


----- Ferreus ingruit Horror. VIRG.

O Goddeſs of the gloomy ſcene,
Of ſhadowy ſhapes thou black-brow'd queen ;
Thy treſſes dark with ivy crown'd,
On yonder mould'ring abbey found ;
Oft wont from charnels damp and dim,
To call the ſheeted ſpectre grim,
While as his looſe chains loudly clink,
Thou add'
ſt a length to every link :
O thou, that lov'
ſt at eve to ſeek
The pen
ſive-pacing pilgrim meek,
ſett'ſt before his ſhudd'ring eyes
Strange forms, and fiends of giant-
As wildly works thy wizard will,
Till fear-
ſtruck fancy has her fill :
Dark pow'r, who
ſe magic might prevails
O'er hermit-rocks, and fairy-vales ;
O godde
ſs, erſt, by * SPENSER view'd,
What time th' enchanter vile embru'd,
His hands in FLORIMEL's pure heart,
Till loos'd by ſteel-clad BRITOMART :
O thou that erſt on fancy's wing
ſt terror-trembling TASSO bring,
To groves, where kept damn'd furies dire
Their blazing battlements of fire :
Thou that thro' many a darkſom pine,
O'er the rugged rock recline,
ſt wake the hollow-whiſpr'ing breeze
With care-con
ſumed ELOISE :
O thou, with whom in chearle
ſs cell,
The midnight clock pale pris'ners tell ;
O ha
ſte thee, mild Miltonic maid,
From yonder yew's
ſequeſter'd ſhade ;
More bright than all the fabled Nine,
Teach me to breathe the
ſolemn line !
O bid my well-rang'd numbers ri
Pervious to none but Attic eyes ;
O give the
ſtrain that madneſs moves,
Till every
ſtarting ſenſe approves !

What felt the Galli
c traveller,
When far in Arab-de
ſert drear,
He found within the catacomb,
Alive, the terrors of a tomb ?
While many a mummy thro' the
In hieroglyphic
ſtole array'd,
Seem'd to uprear the my
ſtic head,
And trace the gloom with gho
ſtly tread ;
Thou heard
ſt him pour the ſtifled groan,
HORROR ! his
ſoul was all thy own !

O mother of the fire-clad thoughts,
O ha
ſte thee from thy grave-like grot !
(What time the witch perform'd her rite,)
Sprung from th' embrace of TASTE and Night !
O queen ! that er
ſt did'ſt thinly ſpread
The willowy leaves o'er ISIS' head,
And to her meek mien did
ſt diſpenſe
Woe's mo
ſt awful negligence ;
What time, in cave, with vi
ſage pale,
She told her elegiac tale :
O thou ! whom wand'ring WARTON
Amaz'd with more than youthful awe,
As by the pale moon's glimm'ring gleam
He mus'd his melancholy theme :
O curfeu-loving goddeſs haſte !
O wa
ft me, to ſome SCYTHIAN waſte,
Where, in Gothic ſolitude,
Mid pro
ſpects moſt ſublimely rude,
Beneath a rough rock's gloomy cha
ſiſter ſits, ENTHUSIASM :
Let me with her, in magic trance,
Hold mo
ſt delirious dalliance ;
Till I, thy pen
ſive votary,
HORROR, look madly wild like thee ;
Until I gain true tran
ſport's ſhore,
And life's retiring
ſcene is o'er,
ſpire to ſome more azure ſky,
Remote from dim mortality ;
At length, recline the fainting head,
In Druid-dreams di
ſſolv'd and dead !

April 11, 1751 CHIM

* SPENSER's Fairy Queen, B. 3. Canto 12.

Gier. Liberat. B. 14.

Alluding to a ſtory of a French gentleman (mention'd by ſeveral Oriental travellers) who going into the catacombs, not far from Cairo, with ſome Arabs his guides, was there robb'd by them, and left ; a huge ſtone being plac'd over the entrance. I don't remember that any poetical uſe has been made of this ſtory.