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HILLSIDE.

by Arkadiusz Reikowski

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1.
Rain is a blessing. Many think of it as tears of the heavens. Others see it as waters of purification. What I find in the rain is solace. Peace of mind. But this place is anything but peaceful. It exudes emptiness. Even the rain is different – icy and implacable. And then there's the silence. It cuts like a knife: to the bone, to the heart… to the soul. But my soul is already empty and desolate. And now, I'm here, all alone. I want to believe I'm alone.
2.
Cool Air 01:52
3.
Wind Rises 03:07
4.
The forest is quiet. Not a leaf moves in the breeze. The trees aren't rustling – they are listening. Following the path trodden by those long dead, I know everything that surrounds me is steeped in loneliness. I'm soaked to the skin. The forest is getting denser and denser. Branches tear at my clothes and cut my skin, but still I continue, filled with inner peace. Out of the corner of my eye I notice the dug-up graves. Suddenly the wind rises, triumphant. The leaves rustle violently, but I'm beyond it all. The hill awaits me, and so I go.
5.
Hillside 05:42
6.
Forgotten 02:48
7.
I shouldn't have come here. Shattered images of the past assault me at every turn. Broken glass; a heavy curtain drawn across a window; creaking stairs no-one used for a long time. The worst part of it is the children's room. A gust of storm knocks open a window left ajar. The shutters clatter in the wind. I notice a smashed music box. Dear God, who destroys a child’s music box? Am I getting paranoid or did I really hear someone singing? I was wrong. I'm lonely, but not alone. I shouldn't be here. This place was supposed to be abandoned.
8.
9.
10.
The house on the hill. It sounds so corny, like a scene from a cheap movie. You expect to catch a flash of chainsaw or the smell of smoke at every step so that the horror story could finally begin. But it already has, and I'm in the middle of it. This pile of letters spilling out of the mailbox – messages that will never reach their recipients; the wind wailing mournfully in the attic that no-one will visit ever again; the window that will remain open for all time… And then there's the empty doghouse; the child's wheelchair – broken to pieces; the fresh grave behind the house; the smell of dust in the living room; the squeaking porch door that nobody will ever oil… This is the house on the hill. Here it shall remain – long after I’m gone from this world.
11.
Longing 02:55

about

Journey into a place where forgotten memories are about to be remembered. Is it only imagination? Or does it really exists? Is there a way out?

Dark, emotional and atmospheric conceptual album. Inspired by mystery stories with a bit of a noir-style vibe.

credits

released November 20, 2014

Story by Krzysztof Pyter

Translation by Ryszard Chojnowski

Art & cover by Grzegorz Dałek

Vocals: Marc Bonilla, Nichole Dechaine and Linda Strawberry Coloma

Guitars: Arkadiusz Reikowski

Piano, synths and programming: Arkadiusz Reikowski

Composed and mixed by Arkadiusz Reikowski

Mastering by ZOWA Studio Mix/Mastering

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Arkadiusz Reikowski Poland

Composing music is like creating shapes. By changing the view, one influences how we perceive things.

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