Growth - Something Follows (Listening Video)

Growth's debut album - 'The Smothering Arms of Mercy' | Out December 4, 2020 Pre-Order & Pre-Save here: http://smarturl.it/growthmercy Subscribe to Wild Thing Records YouTube for new releases: https://bit.ly/youtubewtr GROWTH began as a study in isolation by brothers Tristan (guitars/bass/artwork) and Nelson Barnes (drums) in Melbourne, Australia, after a decade's absence from each other while pursuing music overseas. With the line-up soon rounded out by Luke Frizon (ex Jack The Stripper) on vocals, the trio set out to create music that explored the human aspects of connection, trauma, despair, and the fragility of hope. The result is THE SMOTHERING ARMS OF MERCY, a claustrophobic narrative of total spiritual collapse written while in psychiatric care and thrown over nine suffocating acts. The debut album was recorded in Melbourne, produced and engineered by Growth, drums engineered by Troy McCosker (Ne Obliviscaris), and mixed/mastered by Fredrik Nordström (Opeth, The Haunted) in Gothenburg, Sweden. MERCY highlights the extremity of grief and asks the listener to reflect on their relationship with loss and vulnerability. Pain can be the source of your power. Learn to greet it as a friend. Growth is: Luke Frizon - Vocals Tristan Barnes - Guitars/Bass Nelson Barnes - Drums Growth - Online: https://growthnoise.com https://facebook.com/growthnoise https://instagram.com/growthnoise https://bit.ly/growthnoise Wild Thing Records – Online: https://wildthingrecords.com https://facebook.com/wildthingrecords https://instagram.com/wildthingrecords https://twitter.com/wildthinglabel https://bit.ly/spotifywtr https://bit.ly/youtubewtr Lyrics: Thrash my revenant form against the gathering dark That swarms in purulent configurations I swear I could hear someone calling out from that muck, the cadence of a voice I hoped never to hear again; a phantom's cruel whispering to take dignity in the end Something follows It has festered in the dungeons of consciousness And I have heard the hissing wreckage of its call "To be truly worthless is to be nothing given form And to waste yourself is to leak that nothing into the wretched soil- and waste yourself you must, to echo all the nothing you have wrought" Ruined fingers of light caress filthy skin. The smothering arms of mercy caress feeble frame. Thrash my revenant form against the gathering dark I have slept for decades now and when I awake, I won't ever be the same; Something has found me Something has followed me to my end It was at the edge of every vision It lived in the salt of every disgusting tear Devouring silently like rust, like the end... The end of the final page Welcoming and warm The answer was so obvious all along

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