"But when good Saturn, banish'd from above,
Was driv'n to Hell, the world was under Jove.
Succeeding times a silver age behold,
Excelling brass, but more excell'd by gold.
Then summer, autumn, winter did appear:
And spring was but a season of the year.
The sun his annual course obliquely made,
Good days contracted, and enlarg'd the bad.
Then air with sultry heats began to glow;
The wings of winds were clogg'd with ice and snow;
And shivering mortals, into houses driv'n,
Sought shelter from th' inclemency of Heav'n.
Those houses, then, were caves, or homely sheds;
With twining oziers fenc'd; and moss their beds.
Then ploughs, for seed, the fruitful furrows broke,
And oxen labour'd first beneath the yoke."
- Ovid
We think we reminisce about a the Golden Age, but the Golden Age never existed. The yearning is only for the silver age because the silver age, the Almost Golden Age, is as close as we can get.
Possibly one of the last releases under Spencer Stephenson's alias Botany, this LP is a heady, percussive cocktail of textures and styles. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 14, 2021