Strange Aeons

by The Difference Engine

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about

Strange Aeons, the second full-length by The Difference Engine, is a noisy and unsettling record that tells a tale of madness within the world of H.P. Lovecraft's fiction.

credits

released August 9, 2013

Written, recorded, produced, and mixed by Christopher G. Brown (Analog Telepathy Music ASCAP)
Mastered by Devon Wedge @WonderfulColour Studios
Invaluable second sets of ears/co-producers: Abram Taber, Todd Bowes
Packaging designed and created by Danielle Ameen and Christopher Brown
Photography by Jarrod Staples
Thank you to my family, Danielle, Abe, Todd, Jarrod, Jake, Linnea, and everyone who supported this endeavor in any way.

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about

The Difference Engine Boston

the difference engine is the solo venture of christopher g. brown (vary lumar, ex-8mm fuzz, pyotr, they have this machine, ochmoneks)

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Track Name: This Violent Landscape
it’s been weeks since i’ve been paid
and they told me what i had to write
but my creativity’s been tamed
by the deafening sound of their praise

don’t you worry

you could call this a prayer
you could call it a last resort
that this violent landscape in front of me
will awaken the muse that lies dormant in me

don’t you worry,
i can write
Track Name: The World In Which We Live
my head will not sit still for one tick
replaying each of the stories
i thought i’d be inspired by the minds of lunatics
but instead i’m not so sure of where i stand, no

i’ve learned to see
the truth about the world in which we live

the clock watches me pace this room,
looking between the curtains now and then.
i can’t help but think that this is meaningless,
but for the first time in weeks i want to write again.

i’ve learned to see
the truth about the world in which we live
Track Name: Diary
delicate drafts brush against my face
as i contemplate this blank page
the ink is drying in its well
this mansion has become my cell

they shower me with praise
and pay me for the few notes i’ve heard

you all want and demand the best
but you’re unaware of what i’m going through
to find my passion again

delicate drafts blow the pages away
as i drunkenly try to collect myself
old pickman’s watercolors stare down at me,
disapproving as the public i will have to face

they’ll shower me with disgust
and i will never write again

you all want and demand the best
but you’re unaware of what i’m going through
to find my passion again

as i retrieved the papers that had scattered across the room
for the first time i noticed a journal on the shelf by the window
the dating suggested it must have belonged to the prior tenant of this old house

i refuse to accept that this
is anything but madness
i refuse to accept thurston
is anything but insane

but the more i read the more i can see
no choice but to maybe believe?
Track Name: Absorption
all these things that i’ve seen i can’t unsee
and this knowledge can’t be unlearned
there are things in this universe
that i can’t understand

the savages revel
in a truth they can’t conceive
unaware of the true horror
held above their heads
Track Name: The Patient
waiting alone in this cold gray room
waiting for someone with answers
holding out hope that he belongs here

but “self-destruction is always an option
if you don’t want to end up like me,”
he said, staring through me

he spoke quietly and with purpose,
eyes glazing at mere thoughts
he looked me in the eyes and i could see
that there was not a trace of insanity
this man was telling the truth

“even if you can bear
the truth you’ll end up just like me
but if you care for chance
i know someone on the outside.

but the truth is you’ll end up like me.

self-destruction is always an option
if you don’t want to end up like me,”
he said, staring through me.
Track Name: Innsmouth
what am i looking for?
am i just wasting time?
why am i in this ocean town?
what can’t i just sit and write?

if you continue this
you’ll get what you deserve
you will sink until you drown.

i can’t afford to spend the night
i’ve got so much to do in so little time

i will just walk.

the voices that follow me diminish with every step
i’m alone on these abandoned tracks
the moonlight is guiding me in this otherwise vacant void
the seals swimming is the only sound.
Track Name: Discordant Arrhythmia
“i can’t say i share your interest
in knowing more about old man zann.

his music was like a soundtrack to hell
but little did i know he was at its door.

the notes he played kept the horrors away.

his music was like a soundtrack to hell
but little did i know he was at its door.

the notes he played kept the horrors away.

if you want proof that there’s more to this world
then you needn’t look further than upton.

but this sunset’s so beautiful,
so let’s just take it for what it is.”
Track Name: The Floods of Vermont
“there has long been talk, rumors in the still
of unnatural movement in those distant hills
blame mephistopheles on what you see,
cause villages are only as strong as the secrets they keep

but letters arrived
that made me consider otherwise

illusions cannot harm you,
and fears cannot open fire.
but this has all been washed away,
come with the letters and you’ll see.

but when i arrived
i saw nothing with my own eyes

the farmer spoke of peace
he spoke of brightness in the night
he spoke of the wonders of space
and he spoke of eternal life
but it wasn’t he who spoke
it wasn’t he who spoke

the farmer had lost his head
a puppet for something unknown
with the things i had heard and seen
i had no choice but to believe.”
Track Name: Exposition
anticipation hangs high in this hall
every eye in the house is looking for me
hiding in the wings, i don’t yet care to be seen
by this mass of fools who blind themselves to the truth

(hush hush hush)
the curtains are drawn and my work is set to begin

oh, conductor just read the sheets
just start the show already
there’s no need for that nervous glance
you’re not responsible for what you unleash

it’s my music, so don’t give looks of disgust!

it’s not like you’re any closer to reality
it’s not like you can say what inspired me
it’s not like you have heard what i have heard
it’s not like you have seen what i have seen

please return to your seats
the composer should like to take a bow
fleeing at the sight of his drawn face
is really in the poorest of taste.