BAND NAME: Throne of Awful Splendor
GENRE: Death/Unblack Metal
STATUS: Split-up
LOCATION: USA (Portland, Oregon)
Formed in 2013. Split up in August 2019.
"Now this isn't to say we're absolutely 100% done. If the opportunity presents itself for more material to be recorded, we'll of course pursue that route. But as things are now, we'd rather be transparent and clear about the status of the band. We're not currently active, and anything else that might happen will be for time to tell."
"Now this isn't to say we're absolutely 100% done. If the opportunity presents itself for more material to be recorded, we'll of course pursue that route. But as things are now, we'd rather be transparent and clear about the status of the band. We're not currently active, and anything else that might happen will be for time to tell."
Lineup:
Rodney Wilder - Vocals
Curtis McTeigue - Guitars
Colin St. Claire - Bass
Jason Borton - Vocals (clean), Drums
Colin St. Claire - Bass
Jason Borton - Vocals (clean), Drums
Links:
Discography:
.............................................................
The Supernal Hunger (EP)
Left:
27 January, 2014, Independent, Bandcamp, Bandcamp
Right:
19 February, 2015, SkyBurnsBlack Records, Bandcamp
19 February, 2015, SkyBurnsBlack Records, Bandcamp
31 December, 2015, SkyBurnsBlack Records, CD-R
Note: Although the independent version originally had the left artwork, it was reuploaded 2 June, 2018 with the right artwork.
Update: Someone on Metal Archives now claims that the 2014 version had no artwork, and only used a band photo as a placeholder. It's been awhile since I added the note above and can't remember where I got the info from, so I'm not sure which one is correct.
Update: Someone on Metal Archives now claims that the 2014 version had no artwork, and only used a band photo as a placeholder. It's been awhile since I added the note above and can't remember where I got the info from, so I'm not sure which one is correct.
1) The Supernal Hunger
6:49, lyrics:
The waste whipped to frenzy under vigilant stars,
Crashing mad and caustic, with the ocean it spars.
Shadows sprawl from light of the bleary-eyed moon,
Prostrate at the presence in the destitute gloom.
He clung to the Ghost, it called Him away
To where the locusts and the tempests hold sway,
To sup on spectral manna, to drink deep the speech,
Despite abrosia – the guide!
“The thirst awakens and the hunger grows,
Sate me on Thy spirit, on Thy spirit, Lord.”
The hunger that only the supernal can appease!
Starvation switing Christ like a spear on the wind
Against the rocky terraces of rubicund,
Yet lancing to the Saviour through the anguish and noise,
Balsamic sustenance in a fatherly voice.
He indulged the Ghost, which unto Him did the same,
For communion is the vittle surpassing the gastric domain,
It tended His soul ‘til betwixt the crags there did grow
The ambrosial Tree of Life!
“The thirst awakens and the hunger grows,
Sate me on Thy spirit, on Thy spirit, Lord.”
The arid stretch with the Saviour therein yet besieged by scathing flaws,
And Jesus kept
Lidless eyes on His heavenly prize, His altruistic cause,
Whilst in His shadow painted serpents amassed from fissures rent with claws…
The Devil saw Christ in His wearied state as upon deprivation He stood,
And Satan leapt
With wicked glee that his enemy had such anathema accrued.
No knowledge he holds of the benedight soul, the need beyond the pale-
Thus, he shall scheme to no avail.
“The thirst awakens and the hunger grows,
I’m sated on Thy spirit, on Thy spirit, Lord!”
2) A Nemesis Reared at Genesis
4:34, lyrics:
When that vain Heaven spat my caste across the skies,
it procured for itself this war on Paradise.
Now I shall rend its son.
Bones for the kingdom…
I am the end of all the works of men,
the learnèd versed in my original sin.
Now a saviour comes to rid these fleas of me,
dressed in flesh and its impotency.
I…
the garden's grievous blow.
Sedition in scarlet skin
fed to fools below.
My hands…
rife with ripened death,
stretching their asphyxiants
to Christ's deprivèd breath.
I am the one slavering in the dark,
windswept voices guiding me to my impious mark.
The shepherd lies starving at my feet,
so I shall bring him food to eat…
Nazarene!
Why waste thou hungrily?
Stop waiting on God to fill!
He won't and never will…
"Thou are the lie behind the leprosy
that rots the eyes God gave humanity,
seeking not their God but bread in broken hands,
finite as the faith struck on the sinking sands."
3) Trial of Decimation
3:07, lyrics:
"I have warred with flaming sword,
before the Ein Sof trod,
yet it's thee in meek frailty
revered as Son of God?
To the temple mount…
Throw
thyself upon the razor-sharp stones.
Show
the care of thy Father who called thee His own.
Know
the angels in Heaven shall rush to thy aid,
Go…
let Him His issue save."
"Impotent, puerile thing!
Thou shall achieve nothing.
Twice thou have come and now twice thou shall flee.
Twisting scripture again
to keep the world in sin,
thinking thy schemes can avail thee of me.
Thou tout from 'pon thy bier.
End of thy reign is here.
Know what it is to fear.
Test not thy God!"
The anthropophagous maw of Abaddon
then pursed confounded lips on six-tined tongue,
staring ghostly oath to tempt anon…
then gone!
"Though thou warred with flaming sword,
though Heaven thou did trod,
know beneath thy dear deceit,
I AM the Son of God."
4) LuciPhilosophaster
5:34, lyrics:
“I glimpse in the darkness
God without a throne,
shadows swirling beside Him
in a kingdom of sand and stone.
The shadows they quiver with malice,
refusing the touch of the light.
What is it that lurks on
the desert air tonight?”
His wretched breath, graveolent exhaust
to enmire the Christ in noxious froth,
seething ‘tween the teeth whose gnawing inspired Dante’s awe.
Scaled in hematitic pride
for the Deity his heart defied,
wearing Hell’s grotesqueries from hoof to sable eye.
This archetypical misanthrope
skulks his once-angelic bulk
to God swathed in a threadbare cloak…
Creation recoils at his presence.
Light shines not upon his frame.
Nature bays its terror:
“Anathema! Corrosion incarnate!”
“Nazarene…
bow down thy brow
to me.
Nazarene…
all I shall give
to thee.”
Sweet and honey-viscous this reprisal of deceit,
the serpent emerged from Eden’s curse to strike messianic feet,
but for his thrice-plied sirenical guile this slavering drake receives
…a double-edged sword glossectomy.
"Satan! Get thee from me!
Worship God only…"
Thus Heaven, seraphim-tongued,
threads space with bipolar songs,
both joy and lament; the saviour, the serpent
rent from their benedight throng…
LuciPhilosophaster!
6:49, lyrics:
The waste whipped to frenzy under vigilant stars,
Crashing mad and caustic, with the ocean it spars.
Shadows sprawl from light of the bleary-eyed moon,
Prostrate at the presence in the destitute gloom.
He clung to the Ghost, it called Him away
To where the locusts and the tempests hold sway,
To sup on spectral manna, to drink deep the speech,
Despite abrosia – the guide!
“The thirst awakens and the hunger grows,
Sate me on Thy spirit, on Thy spirit, Lord.”
The hunger that only the supernal can appease!
Starvation switing Christ like a spear on the wind
Against the rocky terraces of rubicund,
Yet lancing to the Saviour through the anguish and noise,
Balsamic sustenance in a fatherly voice.
He indulged the Ghost, which unto Him did the same,
For communion is the vittle surpassing the gastric domain,
It tended His soul ‘til betwixt the crags there did grow
The ambrosial Tree of Life!
“The thirst awakens and the hunger grows,
Sate me on Thy spirit, on Thy spirit, Lord.”
The arid stretch with the Saviour therein yet besieged by scathing flaws,
And Jesus kept
Lidless eyes on His heavenly prize, His altruistic cause,
Whilst in His shadow painted serpents amassed from fissures rent with claws…
The Devil saw Christ in His wearied state as upon deprivation He stood,
And Satan leapt
With wicked glee that his enemy had such anathema accrued.
No knowledge he holds of the benedight soul, the need beyond the pale-
Thus, he shall scheme to no avail.
“The thirst awakens and the hunger grows,
I’m sated on Thy spirit, on Thy spirit, Lord!”
2) A Nemesis Reared at Genesis
4:34, lyrics:
When that vain Heaven spat my caste across the skies,
it procured for itself this war on Paradise.
Now I shall rend its son.
Bones for the kingdom…
I am the end of all the works of men,
the learnèd versed in my original sin.
Now a saviour comes to rid these fleas of me,
dressed in flesh and its impotency.
I…
the garden's grievous blow.
Sedition in scarlet skin
fed to fools below.
My hands…
rife with ripened death,
stretching their asphyxiants
to Christ's deprivèd breath.
I am the one slavering in the dark,
windswept voices guiding me to my impious mark.
The shepherd lies starving at my feet,
so I shall bring him food to eat…
Nazarene!
Why waste thou hungrily?
Stop waiting on God to fill!
He won't and never will…
"Thou are the lie behind the leprosy
that rots the eyes God gave humanity,
seeking not their God but bread in broken hands,
finite as the faith struck on the sinking sands."
3) Trial of Decimation
3:07, lyrics:
"I have warred with flaming sword,
before the Ein Sof trod,
yet it's thee in meek frailty
revered as Son of God?
To the temple mount…
Throw
thyself upon the razor-sharp stones.
Show
the care of thy Father who called thee His own.
Know
the angels in Heaven shall rush to thy aid,
Go…
let Him His issue save."
"Impotent, puerile thing!
Thou shall achieve nothing.
Twice thou have come and now twice thou shall flee.
Twisting scripture again
to keep the world in sin,
thinking thy schemes can avail thee of me.
Thou tout from 'pon thy bier.
End of thy reign is here.
Know what it is to fear.
Test not thy God!"
The anthropophagous maw of Abaddon
then pursed confounded lips on six-tined tongue,
staring ghostly oath to tempt anon…
then gone!
"Though thou warred with flaming sword,
though Heaven thou did trod,
know beneath thy dear deceit,
I AM the Son of God."
4) LuciPhilosophaster
5:34, lyrics:
“I glimpse in the darkness
God without a throne,
shadows swirling beside Him
in a kingdom of sand and stone.
The shadows they quiver with malice,
refusing the touch of the light.
What is it that lurks on
the desert air tonight?”
His wretched breath, graveolent exhaust
to enmire the Christ in noxious froth,
seething ‘tween the teeth whose gnawing inspired Dante’s awe.
Scaled in hematitic pride
for the Deity his heart defied,
wearing Hell’s grotesqueries from hoof to sable eye.
This archetypical misanthrope
skulks his once-angelic bulk
to God swathed in a threadbare cloak…
Creation recoils at his presence.
Light shines not upon his frame.
Nature bays its terror:
“Anathema! Corrosion incarnate!”
“Nazarene…
bow down thy brow
to me.
Nazarene…
all I shall give
to thee.”
Sweet and honey-viscous this reprisal of deceit,
the serpent emerged from Eden’s curse to strike messianic feet,
but for his thrice-plied sirenical guile this slavering drake receives
…a double-edged sword glossectomy.
"Satan! Get thee from me!
Worship God only…"
Thus Heaven, seraphim-tongued,
threads space with bipolar songs,
both joy and lament; the saviour, the serpent
rent from their benedight throng…
LuciPhilosophaster!
This artwork has been resized.
To view the original 3576x3289 res, click [here].
![[here]](https://f4.bcbits.com/img/a0107422324_10.jpg){kind=link}
All Lights Relinquished (EP)
2 June, 2018, SkyBurnsBlack Records, Bandcamp
2 June, 2018, Independent, Bandcamp
Guest appearances:
Melissa Mari - Vocals (track 3)
1) The Squirm of Deserved Ascoma
5:07, lyrics:
Nature at last our eviction exhaled,
a gaunt abattoir with infection regaled.
From fungus and plume our deformed wights arise,
shamble and vampirize...
The squirm of deservèd ascoma.
A species that forgot its place:
spores boring flora from out anguished face.
The squirm of deservèd ascoma.
And flower Hells,
the cruelest of misanthropies:
that emboldening what already'd
sink teeth to itself.
Horror-spore, come forth!
Possess the reign
facilitating rape and strain;
carve our hold with blooms
of croaking exeunt and doom.
The overlong dream mosses over:
the squirm of deservèd ascoma.
The last of us.
2) Wolfsbane and Ivy
5:44, lyrics:
Where branches twist their boughs
throughout the blackened woods
broods that masque, Edenic asp
sought on lip and hood.
Singing snare—
fathered into this dance:
where once love strode each wild's command,
now vows more Satanic entrance...
String me wayward totem,
shadows put to toothèd means.
Sheep bleat, fear our hollows:
wolfsbane and ivy.
Abandoned to a purpose erst never in our seed—
“Whet the jaw! Blood the sabbat! Bewill us to fly!”
Appropriated, our bones for the church his cancer decreed,
bonfire fruit to soothe the wound of the manger.
Virtue deemed to have fled these Hecatonchires
after Eden's serpent struck their gardened root,
those born to join the forest in its worship
turned and left the birthright to witchcraft and soot.
Now our psithurisms reek of spited sons,
prayer made the pungence of their bodies burning.
But what blood said to devil our sylvan hymnals with its baths
can efface such paths?
Come back!
Leaves green this skeletal reach in longing
for no further urge to fall...
Still, the unintestined grotesque
of creation's inverted edifice:
claws and palates slaked to usurper's whim,
which promptly fosters worms and fungi within.
But where slaughters the spell,
an older law detrita knell...
Necrophagous shoots and spores
unwind their constant gospel through the ruin of death,
lichening the blasphemies beshrouding our dark
until there's nothing left.
The rites that drank your babes
unmade while we pine.
Oh, unbloodied air
each prodigal spring divines!
Meet me ageless totem,
shadows true and green.
I, darksome peace, I am the wood;
I am for your good.
3) Withering into the Autumn Rot
8:31, lyrics:
We, the kindling of this whittling onset.
What slumpèd husk doesn't know this war?
The foetor-scented fingertips spousing our kind
with foliage and tendril, desiccation and spore.
The arboreal maw
dotting suns under teeth,
grotesque penult:
forms bored beneath.
Born betrothed to this lover in th' allure
twixt earth and bodies that succumb to its trysts,
some scratch its tally with recalcitrant claws
while others offer waters from their wrists.
And I find my plot in between each response
as useful as the rot that these bowers ensconce...
Autumn-wont!
Heart I’ve drained over stone and bark
to lend my days more than the mound where we depart...
Undone!
Carrion’d by the cruelty of wind,
my life led to rescind.
Every epitaph eventually fades,
the Nature of the place to disregard ours,
foregone sehnsuchts unsuccored by
even a firmament of posthumous stars.
Thus the desperation veining
everything I touch with what this cadence conducts;
thus the sun-gutted sky and cold of lichened goodbyes
when I've unhearted myself and it's still not enough.
My worth returns: the dearth of earthward branches,
a forest floor my wasted make to claim.
I lie, my one use preluded with moss
drawn over crestfall as extinguished eyes
find the night burning my name...
Older-sown than my search,
worthied in ageless flame.
The burdens of worth and of grace
breathe peace back to
Autumn
I become.
My heart slows its beat,
drums with warmth replete...
drums its gift to death.
Autumn!
4) Rite
6:17, lyrics:
Here, fog wanders warily.
Here, moonlight falls too thin,
and the choirs quiet throat and night-announcing limb
at the squat, dilapidated affront their murk therein.
“I
pry wide a path
for this blood more light, more life than that
belying messiah could provide.
Such hollow hands...”
And hence the floorboards gored with that ambition's lurid bark,
but more, the countless eyes felt staring from the dark.
What necrophagous plot contradicts the dead necessitated by glory?
...no less that throng’s transcendence involuntary!
For a majesty bidding no knee,
no horror'd lash too deep...
And the forest's taloned rafters still hold
the Hell born on the perishing's weep.
“I
slew and strewed these sons and daughters,
my hands' red weight evidencing the wage
I should attain in state on high...but come
no wingèd attendants! No
gouts of power recompensing sin-slaked veins!
Just dark!—the shift inside the shadows atop
what ought to be lifeless remains...”
~I am the ill intent
who set upon the traveler on a road
that he should not have been on.~
And caterwauled that sunken hovel the last
refrain from out its hoarsened chorus, curse complete
in tongue that lolled in glossolalia pleading relief
from each stoven-faced pubescent reaching out for his feet.
_______________________________
CouldUseBetterImages, UncertainInfo
A better version of the ORIGINAL "Supernal Hunger" artwork, if anyone has it!
Also, what artwork did the 2014 version of "Supernal Hunger" use?
5:07, lyrics:
Nature at last our eviction exhaled,
a gaunt abattoir with infection regaled.
From fungus and plume our deformed wights arise,
shamble and vampirize...
The squirm of deservèd ascoma.
A species that forgot its place:
spores boring flora from out anguished face.
The squirm of deservèd ascoma.
And flower Hells,
the cruelest of misanthropies:
that emboldening what already'd
sink teeth to itself.
Horror-spore, come forth!
Possess the reign
facilitating rape and strain;
carve our hold with blooms
of croaking exeunt and doom.
The overlong dream mosses over:
the squirm of deservèd ascoma.
The last of us.
2) Wolfsbane and Ivy
5:44, lyrics:
Where branches twist their boughs
throughout the blackened woods
broods that masque, Edenic asp
sought on lip and hood.
Singing snare—
fathered into this dance:
where once love strode each wild's command,
now vows more Satanic entrance...
String me wayward totem,
shadows put to toothèd means.
Sheep bleat, fear our hollows:
wolfsbane and ivy.
Abandoned to a purpose erst never in our seed—
“Whet the jaw! Blood the sabbat! Bewill us to fly!”
Appropriated, our bones for the church his cancer decreed,
bonfire fruit to soothe the wound of the manger.
Virtue deemed to have fled these Hecatonchires
after Eden's serpent struck their gardened root,
those born to join the forest in its worship
turned and left the birthright to witchcraft and soot.
Now our psithurisms reek of spited sons,
prayer made the pungence of their bodies burning.
But what blood said to devil our sylvan hymnals with its baths
can efface such paths?
Come back!
Leaves green this skeletal reach in longing
for no further urge to fall...
Still, the unintestined grotesque
of creation's inverted edifice:
claws and palates slaked to usurper's whim,
which promptly fosters worms and fungi within.
But where slaughters the spell,
an older law detrita knell...
Necrophagous shoots and spores
unwind their constant gospel through the ruin of death,
lichening the blasphemies beshrouding our dark
until there's nothing left.
The rites that drank your babes
unmade while we pine.
Oh, unbloodied air
each prodigal spring divines!
Meet me ageless totem,
shadows true and green.
I, darksome peace, I am the wood;
I am for your good.
3) Withering into the Autumn Rot
8:31, lyrics:
We, the kindling of this whittling onset.
What slumpèd husk doesn't know this war?
The foetor-scented fingertips spousing our kind
with foliage and tendril, desiccation and spore.
The arboreal maw
dotting suns under teeth,
grotesque penult:
forms bored beneath.
Born betrothed to this lover in th' allure
twixt earth and bodies that succumb to its trysts,
some scratch its tally with recalcitrant claws
while others offer waters from their wrists.
And I find my plot in between each response
as useful as the rot that these bowers ensconce...
Autumn-wont!
Heart I’ve drained over stone and bark
to lend my days more than the mound where we depart...
Undone!
Carrion’d by the cruelty of wind,
my life led to rescind.
Every epitaph eventually fades,
the Nature of the place to disregard ours,
foregone sehnsuchts unsuccored by
even a firmament of posthumous stars.
Thus the desperation veining
everything I touch with what this cadence conducts;
thus the sun-gutted sky and cold of lichened goodbyes
when I've unhearted myself and it's still not enough.
My worth returns: the dearth of earthward branches,
a forest floor my wasted make to claim.
I lie, my one use preluded with moss
drawn over crestfall as extinguished eyes
find the night burning my name...
Older-sown than my search,
worthied in ageless flame.
The burdens of worth and of grace
breathe peace back to
Autumn
I become.
My heart slows its beat,
drums with warmth replete...
drums its gift to death.
Autumn!
4) Rite
6:17, lyrics:
Here, fog wanders warily.
Here, moonlight falls too thin,
and the choirs quiet throat and night-announcing limb
at the squat, dilapidated affront their murk therein.
“I
pry wide a path
for this blood more light, more life than that
belying messiah could provide.
Such hollow hands...”
And hence the floorboards gored with that ambition's lurid bark,
but more, the countless eyes felt staring from the dark.
What necrophagous plot contradicts the dead necessitated by glory?
...no less that throng’s transcendence involuntary!
For a majesty bidding no knee,
no horror'd lash too deep...
And the forest's taloned rafters still hold
the Hell born on the perishing's weep.
“I
slew and strewed these sons and daughters,
my hands' red weight evidencing the wage
I should attain in state on high...but come
no wingèd attendants! No
gouts of power recompensing sin-slaked veins!
Just dark!—the shift inside the shadows atop
what ought to be lifeless remains...”
~I am the ill intent
who set upon the traveler on a road
that he should not have been on.~
And caterwauled that sunken hovel the last
refrain from out its hoarsened chorus, curse complete
in tongue that lolled in glossolalia pleading relief
from each stoven-faced pubescent reaching out for his feet.
_______________________________
CouldUseBetterImages, UncertainInfo
A better version of the ORIGINAL "Supernal Hunger" artwork, if anyone has it!
Also, what artwork did the 2014 version of "Supernal Hunger" use?
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