New Music – Июльские дни (July Days) ‘Точкой (One, Two, Three, Four, Five)’

It emerges from the void with this dark, creeping menace of a riff that sets the hairs on the back of your neck on end. We dance in the gothic horror of it for a minute as the synths join in to soundtrack the footfall of our shambling two-step dance.

The track has an undercurrent of raging darkest waters but the synths come in sparkling and dancing in the moonlight reflections on the surface. This contrast provides the intrigue at the core of the song, it has a childish almost nursery rhyme like quality that is met, matched, and overpowered by it’s darker more sinister opposite.

Vocally it is very similar to Ian Curtis. It’s reserved but passionate and a lot of thought has been put into the lyricism and delivery. It’s very cool and to the point for the most part, but at other points it leans into a choral wail of emotional outpouring.

We managed to get the lyrics for the song sent over and we will include them below. There are flourishes of very poetic lines and themes. The song is every bit as dark as you might have first assumed and I encourage you to listen to it once through in Cyrillic to make your own interpretation before checking out the lyric sheet.

Let’s be honest, what’s more goth than Russia? Bleak winters, short summers. If you’ve ever managed to make it through War & Peace or read any of the other Russian’s like Chekov or Dostoevsky the authors speak of their home with a lot of love, but also realism. It is not an easy life and so music like this based in despair absolutely makes sense.

Because by painting these images of deepest darkness, the light that shines against that backdrop is all the more bright. This is powerful, poetic, passionate song writing and it’s bite is every bit as vicious as its bark. That introductory riff is absolutely spellbinding and it drew us in close enough that the implosive depth of the song absorbed us.


One, two, three, four, five –
Fingers out for a walk!
This finger found a mushroom
This finger has cleaned the table,
This one cut it, this one ate it,
And this one just stared.
It’s like someone’s sitting in my sack.
And speaks to me of a black longing.
I’ll take a black knife and stick it in the sack.
I won’t let him, I won’t let him
Stay a glimmering dot in the darkness
I take the knife back and there’s no one in the sack.
And a smile like poison on his lips.
Lurking in the ashes, lurking in you,
Lurking in me, lurking
Stay a glimmering dot in the darkness

Words by Matt Miles

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