We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

the edge of vision

from circle of fire by Frank Schulte

/

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      €1 EUR  or more

     

  • Buy the Full Digital Album

lyrics

"Aubade" by Philip Larkin

I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what’s really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation: yet the dread Of dying, and being dead, Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.

The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
—The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused—nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to climb Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;
But at the total emptiness for ever, The sure extinction that we travel to And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere, And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.

This is a special way of being afraid No trick dispels. Religion used to try, That vast moth-eaten musical brocade Created to pretend we never die, And specious stuff that says No rational being Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing That this is what we fear—no sight, no sound,
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with, The anaesthetic from which none come round.

And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision.
Most things may never happen: this one will,
And realisation of it rages out In furnace-fear when we are caught without
People or drink. Courage is no good: It means not scaring others. Being brave
Lets no one off the grave. Death is no different whined at than withstood.

Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.
It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,
Have always known, know that we can’t escape,
Yet can’t accept. One side will have to go. Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring
In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring Intricate rented world begins to rouse. The sky is white as clay, with no sun. Work has to be done. Postmen like doctors go from house to house.

credits

from circle of fire, released March 20, 2024
words spoken by Stephen McKinley Henderson in DEVS Episode 7

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Frank Schulte image

Frank Schulte Cologne, Germany

German sound creator Frank Schulte works in the fields of improvised music, new music, ambient, experimental electronics, develops expanded media performances and composes sound and music for theatre plays, movies and contemporary dance choreographies and develops intermedia installation for public spaces. ... more

contact / help

Contact Frank Schulte

Streaming and
Download help

Report this track or account

If you like Frank Schulte, you may also like:

Bandcamp Daily  your guide to the world of Bandcamp

On Bandcamp Radio

Featuring interviews with LA music scene pillar Kamasi Washington, and new London-based duo Mrcy.

listen now