by Thou

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scum of the earth
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scum of the earth Auditory pessimism in its purest form. Favorite track: Death to the King and All His Loyal Subjects.
Old Man Doom
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Old Man Doom On ‘Hightower ’, the fitting name from Thou, the music as sludge and gloomy as one knows. It’s a stifling, hopeless image, one with little light at the end of the tunnel, and a brutal riffage that sums up not only this album, but the band’s career in general. All metal bands deal with bleak topics – drugs, abandonment, lack of love, and suicide – but few of them have wrestled with despair quite as candidly and brutally as Thou has in the poetic lyrics of 'Hightower'. Favorite track: The Fool Who Thought He Was King.
Giles thumbnail
Giles absolutely fantastic tone and sound, and the songs are a completely satisfying blend of groove, hook, and agression
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Our mistake was in seeking resolution. Our mistake was in the acknowledgement of any argument. In the confusion and chaos of his thoughts, he is terrified by silence. And by silence can he be brought to obey. In his speech there is the illusion of some grand quest, the lie that because he is himself, therefore he is no self; the blindness of night, the deafness of the adder, the tastelessness of stale and filthy water, the udders of the Cat of slime; not one thing, but many things. Of course this is merely thinly-veiled vanity. We are not confronted with the righteous esoteric, nor a dispute of true and faithful relation. This is not the death of ego but ego incarnate, ego in it's blandest, most obnoxious form: the banal thug, the maladjusted man-child, the semi-educated neanderthal. Not one thing, but many things. Woe, woe, woe, threefold to him that is led away by talk. It is time now to be silent. Your most humble and obedient servant...
In the murk of mindless certitude all relevance is diffused. Join us in fetal security, sweet succulent pacification. We are engorged in self empowerment. Bloated magnificence sustained by unalterable judgments, mapping out the limitations of social interaction, of artistic abstraction. In the murk of mindless certitude all relevance is diffused. Join us in fetal security, that strengthening pacification. Lift high these banners proclaiming empty dissent. We useless heralds of transgression, of neutered transgression, of pacified transformation. Join us in fetal security, huddled together in bovine placidity. Unoffending restraint affecting no one, changing nothing.
Ascending through the hive of the ancients, crafting candles of ethereal dissent, we are the heirs and masters to the grey throne of melancholia. We are so very worthless, and everything we do is meaningless. Towering, gilded, white pedestals erected in supplication to these raise'ed demigods, detached and preening with conceit. We are so very worthless, and everything we do is meaningless. Everything we've ever done--everything we'll ever do--is meaningless. Attend our needs. Servants, lie in debasement, sustained on the crumbs of pseudo intellect, dime store wisdom disguised as politico philosophy. The illusion of ideology. The imposition of precious ego. No room for opposition. One view rules all. One view ruins all. What was once a strength is now an affectation, a glamour cast over unsuspecting acolytes. But straddling mystery and candor leaves the bloody lips exposed. Reticence abandoned. Mythos dismantled. Blustering malcontents, so pedestrian, so very mundane. Childish bores talking and talking and talking in circles. Oh, you treacherous swine. Self entitled scum hiding in the fog of poverty, the veil of the oppressed. Self righteous ire. Self absorbed privilege. Self aggrandizing dribble. Tribulations contrived amidst vacillating abstraction reeking of guilt and greed. Fecund ambivalence from ostentatious parasites. Deluded vanity inextricably entwined. Instability, insecurity. Flagellants revealed. We are so very worthless, and everything we do is meaningless. Go now to the scourge pits to atone.
Smoke Pigs 04:28
Please calm down with all the violent rhetoric. Some people who put on a badge are just trying to help people--just trying to do some good. My dad, mom, uncle, aunt, brother, sister, son, daughter is a cop. I don't want to hear another word about bribery. I don't want to hear about racial profiling, broken bones, or prison rape--or another unarmed kid filled from head to toe with fifty government-issued bullets. There is a fundamental flaw in your desire. There is a psychological deficiency in policing others. Those who maintain a structure of unjust laws, those who bow to the province of the few, those who would coerce others under the implicit threat of violent subjugation--your reign is at an end. When they attack in the name of the law, we will retaliate in the name of liberty.
Get Me Out 01:41
One more second fucking wasted, put this bullet in my brain. One more second, one more minute, one more hour--I'm a wreck. If one more second goes uncounted, put this rope around my neck. Bury myself into the bottle. Cough up glass for a week. Searching for strength in a liquid that takes the death grip on me.
Skinwalker 03:32
The fire's light casts shadows across the faces of abandoned gods. Looming stone monoliths stand silently as a pantheon of superstition burns: emotional immolation. The thorned crown of self sacrifice, the horns and fur of immature rebellion, the false personification of nature--gives way to this passionate holocaust, to a reawakening of reason, to the triumph of the will. The stars' dull shine offers not approval nor any earthly feeling. It only illuminates our naked forms. Throw your frail bodies down. Throw your white bodies down. Throw your skinny bodies down. Throw your pale bodies down.
It's not my fault. I'm a victim of stolen youth, born a villain. This life impoverished, this mind untrained--where else can I turn but to violence, to the power of intimidation, to attack and abuse? Forever searching for advantage, any advantage. It's not my fault. I'm just following orders. Maintaining these sacred laws, ever obedient. Forever searching for any sign of crime, of deception. Unless crime would serve my own ends, then I attack and abuse. It's never my fault. I'm a victim of unwarranted abuse. Born to privilege, always on top, but always on guard, forever searching for any sign of threat. We are not safe.
Gaze into the empty eyes of the rank and file, and you will know defeat. Knees break, bent before the altar of indifference, of conformity. Lips purse, to kiss upon the ring of submission, of abdication. Servitude personified. Mediocrity's champions. Is this life?
This freezing chamber is inescapable. These ashen walls are insurmountable. Empty sockets see nothing but black, black, black abyss. Endless gloom. Endless solitude. A lifeless form. Twilight eternal. The current sweeps their bodies to shore. The last reminder of the death they endured. Of the oceans depths, they are now sure. No escape. Reaper, join us. Father of death, return to us. Empty sockets see nothing but black, black, black abyss. We are all lost between hell and the sea. The surface is shimmering--just beyond our reach. Why? Why have we been abandoned? Shadows grasp at the ghosts of memories. There is no release. There is no end in sight. Tomorrow will never come. I cannot let go. I can never let go.


Collection of previously released material from various splits and a chunk of re-recorded older songs with the current lineup.


released July 13, 2021

Recorded and mixed by James Whitten at Hightower Recording. Mastered by Adam Tucker at Signaturetone.


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Thou Baton Rouge, Louisiana

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