Oblivion 710
© Bryan Beal
The resonating harmonies of All is Violent flowed from the stereo system that was worth three times as much as Greville's rusted, puke yellow 1974 Datsun 710. “Cartographers of Human Purpose” alternated between deep sonic wells and soaring highs of pulsating sound born on the fingers of master musicians. Greville drove the damp, glistening road, his headlights scintillating on the rough, black stone. His mind was divided between driving and watching his soul rise on the currents of meditative harmonies.
The Seeking must go on. He was aware of this and always had been. The drive toward the inexorable fate and goal of his own mortality kept the Datsun moving, chugging and belching to itself as the old engine, poorly serviced, struggled to fulfil its purpose. The stereo was the only thing that worked properly, or anything close to the concept. The dashboard lights flickered as the battery and alternator fought furiously to keep the entire machine running. Each dimming of the light had long since fused into those before and after. Greville saw none of it and heard even less.
Thunderous, pounding violence reached out from the speakers, a fist from the sub-woofer grasping for Greville's heart and soul. Dark riffs punctuated the air like stark colons glittering through the windshield and night beyond. They reached higher and higher, vertiginous swirls swamping Greville's vision. The steering wheel warped and merged into the dark dashboard, taking his hands with it. Greville tried to scream. He thought he did, but no sound could overwhelm the guitars emanating from his speakers like the denizens of the Pleroma.
Looking down at his feet was a mistake. They too had vanished, consumed by the Datsun's lurking shadows and hidden recesses. Waves cascaded. Forces rolled. The winds of deepest Tartarus erupted from the speakers that were feeding Greville's mind and psyche. His entire head now filled with the crescendo of wild, unrestrained guitar solos of which no hint had been given at the start of the twelve minute song.
The great emptiness surged into the core of Greville's mind and he felt his own life and history vanish into the mists that followed. He did not hear it. He much less recognised what it was. “Memory Complete”, the last track of the EP, kicked into its own rhythm. Greville bowed out of his.
Endnote: The music that I listened to while writing this was All is Violent, based in Melbourne, Australia. They can be found HERE.