The Last Strands of Fortitude

by 6LA8

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released May 19, 2013

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6LA8 Karachi, Pakistan

An ‘undefinable’ duo for whom this music is a portal to better places. Ambient, drone and post rock mix to give you a highly varying collection of ponderous songs. 6LA8 is Taimur Mazhar Sheikh and Omer Asim, branching from the avant-garde outfit Aus Rine. Coming from Pakistan, they attempt to condense and convey the frustrations and desires that result from wishful thinking and pessimism. ... more

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Track Name: We Need More Iodex, Mother Harlot
I've given up on who i can trust
let the foolishness commence

define me what
my life could mean
if i let loose my instinct

but I've started to simmer
and each breath
pounds on the seams
please tell me what my life means.
Track Name: They Wouldn't Let Me
I sang to the wind,
They wouldn't let me.
I sang for a hit,
They shouldn't let me.

Well now,
Fallen saviour,
How's the current?
Track Name: The Air of Drunkenness is Floating in the Dusk
The air of drunkenness is floating in the dusk;
Come and drown all your sorrows in a chalice.
Whats matters if you are a yogi or an amir-
At home, there is no difference between master and slave.
Death's hand, the black hunter, is weighing well the blow;
Laugh! Laugh now, before laughter is ensnared.

Title/Lyrics taken from Ghani Khan's poem "The Chalice", translated by Taimur Khan.

Found here: ghanikhan.files.wordpress.com/2005/12/gh…poetry.pdf
Track Name: I Am Listening, But Not Listening
Day in day out
Leaving no trace
Silent forces
Working hard to

Recreate
Painfully
Slowly
Exacerbated

By these working conditions
Apparitions
Contemplation's

The guilt in their hearts
Strips them of pain

Just numb
Careening
Cynical
Wisdom whisked by the bickering

Here's to you
The fallen
The scourge
The emptiness
Here's to you
My friends

Here's to you
The broken
The hopeless
A mantle
To hold the empty air
While you mutter insolenc
Track Name: Not Yet Lost The Sense of Time
Spoken Word:

No lights no sounds,
No time nor space
Utter void.

Then somewhere the beginning of a pallor
and with it a faint throbbing buzz as of a ghostly violoncello palpitating on the same note endlessly. A couple of ghostly violins presently take advantage of this bass

and therewith the pallor reveals a man in the void,
an incorporeal but visible man, seated, absurdly enough, on nothing.
For a moment he raises his head as the music passes him by.
Then, with a heavy sigh, he droops in utter dejection; and the violins, discouraged, retrace their melody in despair and at last give it up.

It is all very odd. One recognizes the Mozartian strain;
and on this hint, and by the aid
certain sparkles of violet light
in the pallor, the man's costume reveals itself as that of a
Spanish nobleman of the XV -XVI. century,
Don Juan, of course; but where? why? how?

Where on earth — or elsewhere
— have we got to from the XX century

Another pallor in the void, this time not violet, but a dis-
agreeable smoky yellow…

-(Excerpt from Act III: Don Juan in Hell, Man & Superman by George Bernard Shaw)
-(Spoken by Mark Pinheiro)