In the arms, hold the reins.
Up the endless, ageless face.
Standing for nothing.
Middle of nowhere, new California.
Since time immemorial, watched Appalachia.
Ridges blue, grass sea green.
A strange haze of mourning.
Time worn earth heavily memory leaden.
From afar the rocky peaks appear as no other place.
Panorama of fourteen imposing a sense of awe and wonder.
But the weather can turn on you without warning.
In the Hills of Black you can see clear in all directions.
From the top you can hear a solemn bell ringing.
Seems it's getting louder.
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A quartet from Portland, Oregon, these crazy diamonds concoct kaledioscopic reveries that updates Barrett-era Floyd ('Black Maven') and brings to mind The Doors on occasion. There's Indian-like myticism in tracks like the reverb glaze of 'Umbra of Mind', the soporific, droning title track and especially 'Temple Song', which is a glorious trance-inducing mantra. The lead guitar is a particular highlight too, while organ-imbued keys add much depth Michael Henaghan