Need a gift for a gifted musician?
A great poet once said that there are only two subjects in life worth writing about: love and death. This poet took his own life once he realised all his loved ones were dead. Vision becomes life becomes death. It is the same kind of fatal escapism I sense when I take Somnius in regard.
His vision and dedication have always been a thing of his own. His thing. His own world, his own sounds, his ow
n images. No humans walk around on his earth, just him in a world of dark romance. It is a symbolic vision reminiscent of the French artists of the 19th century. Heaven, hell and madness.
He needs this romantic escape. He is a modern bohemian sick of our concrete jungle and plastic lives. He creates atmospheric pieces with a heart that only seems to beat in his nightmares. The music disappears like morning fog when the first rays of light touch our eyes and reality kicks in. When the world is of this world again it remains hidden, resting like bats until all becomes shadow and night once again.
The guitar is his medium of preference. Sometimes gently plucking melancholic strings, other times wielding the axe of misanthropy. He makes the soundtrack for the fall down the abyss. It is a graveyard. It is black water in a sea of sorrow. It is the angels’ cunt glowing in the night.
It is Somnius.
- Dammi Renoffski (https://www.facebook.com/damyeah)