Coil - "Batwings (A Limnal Hymn)" (Official Remastered Audio)

Coil's "Batwings (A Limnal Hymn)" from the remastered and officially reissued "Musick To Play In The Dark²" out now on Dais Records.
Order on limited vinyl at: found.ee/CoilM...
Musick To Play In The Dark² personnel:
John Balance
Peter “Sleazy” Christopherson
Thighpaulsandra
Remastered by Josh Bonati
Artwork restoration by Nathaniel Young
🌖
After leaving London in 1999 for the sleepy seaside retiree town of Weston-super-Mare, Coil co-founders John Balance and Peter “Sleazy” Christopherson set up shop in a palatial eight-bedroom estate to pursue the outer reaches of the group’s heightening cabalistic chemistry. Among the staggering string of late-era masterpieces they produced is lunar opus "Musick Is To Play In The Dark," widely hailed as an artistic zenith upon its release. The sessions that birthed it were in fact so fruitful that a second LP took shape during the creation of the first one.
Aided by the recent addition of Welsh multi-instrumentalist engineer Thighpaulsandra, Coil mined further into the recesses of surrealist eldritch electronica Balance termed “moon music” - post-industrial spellcasting at the axis of narcotic and nocturnal energies. "Musick To Play In The Dark²" spans a full witching hour of bad acid sound design, synthesizer voyaging, opiated balladry, Luciferian glitch, and subliminal hymnals, alternately ominous, oracular, and absurd. Scottish gothic icon Rose McDowall guests on vocals for two tracks but otherwise the album is a hermetic affair, tapping into the group’s limitless insular synergy.
Opener “Something” is stark and incantational, a spoken word experiment for windswept voids. “Tiny Golden Books” unspools an aerial whirlpool of cosmic synth, both whispery and widescreen. “Ether” is an exercise in funeral procession piano and intoxicated wordplay (“It's either ether or the other”), while “Where Are You?” and “Batwings - A Liminal Hymn” lurk like liturgical murmurings heard on one’s death bed, framed in granular FX and flickering candlelight.
As a whole the collection skews more muted and remote than its predecessor, as if having grown accustomed to the nether regions of these darkening seances. But music box hallucination “Paranoid Inlay” captures the group’s oblique comedic side, always glimmering beneath: over a warped, wobbly beat Balance intones an opaque narrative of serenity, Saint Peter, and suicidal vegetables, accompanied by spiraling harpsichord and stuttering squelches of electronics. “It seems concussion suits you,” he repeats twice, like a macabre pickup line, before dictating a dear diary entry about risks and failures, finally concluding with as close to a self-portrait as Coil ever came: “On a clear day I can see forever / that the underworld is my oyster.”
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[@azimuthrosecross]

Coil- Batwings ( A limnal hymn) Lyrics-
The key to joy is disobedience)
(There is no guilt and there is no shame)
A moon piece to fetch up the golden cup
A snow piece to avoid the great heat of the sun
Is kept in the night and by the light of the moon
An ice piece so as they seem forever fallen
A night piece of the dismal supper and strange entertainment
A rare chance piece, a handsome piece of deformity
The skin of a snake bred out of the spinal marrow of a man
With stones and illegible inscriptions found about great ruins
Pictures of three remarkable steeples or towers
Built purposely awry, so as they seem eternally tipping and falling
A transcendent perfume made of the richest odorates
Kept in a box of translucent scale
A glass of spirits made of ethereal salt, hermetically sealed up
Kept continually in quicksilver, of so volatile a nature
That it will scarcely endure the light
And therefore only shown in winter
Or by the light of a carbuncle or a firefly
And batwings
And batwings
And batwings sing this limnal hymn
A wideness opening and closing
To keep the darkness sealed within
To keep the darkness sealed within
To keep the darkness sealed within
To keep the darkness sealed within
A moon-piece to fetch up the golden cup

[@landofthesilverpath5823]

This was played at Jhon's funeral

[@lucassiccardi8764]

O ye: old, cold, wet, dark, deep, lone, secret, sorrowful, knowledgeable Bat
That dwell in each wintry self, ours snowslide of dreamy dimsels of ours,
Be thee didimus in tongues an speaky thee of the ticky Dee
To the tickling deeds of reesy ris'! Till Mountday's son, till
Westray's gone!
Amen

[@Mulholland5847]

The skin of a snake bred out of the spinal marrow of a man

[@flutterclutter7197]

Safe space for your inner child...right here.

[@DJPANINO]

This band is incredible every time

[@user-ob9zo9cr4c]

Remastered

[@dasedasedase149]

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[@someguy782]

Is this related to lakes, or did they mean "liminal"? Still love them either way. 😂

[@sculpture151]

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