Rage Against the Dying of the Light

by Tziona Achishena and Wings of An Angel

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about

A mystical convergence of energies occured in the creation of this LP.
The melody popped into my head as I was learning this poem in a study group of Chaplains. It definately felt like a kiss from on high. I wanted to try to give my rage a chance at expressing itself, but first I was busy channeling the dead poet Dylan Thomas, whose expressive reading of this poem turned out to have started out in the same melody that suddenly appeared as I read the poem in my head. I recorded a bunch of different versions, which I sent to my collegue Wings of An Angel, who promptly entered his own creative trance and things just got wilder from there. Lots more tracks remain hidden from the human ear, but I did sample bits and pieces into the title track, a mash up of many versions with a heavy dose of rage, a la Grendel meets Godzilla for a tea party, where the cups are smashed at the edge of the world.
lets live while we can,
Tziona Achishena

credits

released March 29, 2016

Vocals, instrumentation, musical compostition: Tziona Achishena
Sound Alchemy: Wings of An Angel
Original Poetry by Dylan Thomas
Sages Proclaim That It's Never Too Late: poetry by Wings of An Angel

cover art by Wings of An Angel

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about

Tziona Achishena

Tziona Achishena creates music that flows through her heart, layering voices, piano, flutes, cellos, harmonium, frame drums, in hopes of getting the sound and feel she seeks. She creates music intuitively, by ear. Tziona sings her original lyrics, as well as biblical passages, and occasionally, channels dead poets. She periodically reinvents herself, primarily through improvisation. ... more

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Track Name: Do Not Go Gentle
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


From The Poems of Dylan Thomas