The Shadow Tradition

by Mala Suerte

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Fernando Jumping from a great Celtic Frost homage to the sludge grounds of High on Fire, the music would be enough reason to respect this album, but on top, there's the lyrics. Favorite track: The Way of Reversal.
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    Comes with three-panel fold out of the complete "The Shadow Tradition" triptych artwork by Mala Suerte vocalist, Gary Rosas, and full lyrics.

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released July 18, 2009

Recorded 2008/09 at John's House. Engineered by John Petri and Tony Laughlin. Mixed by John Petri and Mala Suerte. Mastered by Jerry Tubb at Terra Nova Digital Audio Inc. Austin, TX.



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Mala Suerte Austin, Texas

As the anno domini 2012 lurches closer to the horizon, so does the 13th year of Mala Suerte's bleak-as-fuck existence. Austin's alchemists of abjection are no strangers to harsh times, neither is the "joke" lost on them. Plagued by constant line-up shifts/drop outs, personal strife, and overal neglect, this coven of the black sun trudges on. ... more

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Track Name: Entrance/Black Art
We congregate here in the underground
To impose our will through use of cryptic sound
With ritual chanting and sonic sorcery
We evoke the forces of occult entities

We've left the drone masses behind
And let our faith set us apart
Unified here in this lodge
Behold our lifeblood, this Black Art

We carry the torch of the gods of yore
And continue in the vein of those that came before
We commit ourselves to cabbalistic sect
And harness these skills until we are adept

Our flock convenes here in this room
Electric Church, Temple of Doom
We've let our faith set us apart
Behold our life's blood, this Black Art

With undying lust we hone our mystic craft
And we shan't be done 'til our dark spell is cast

We vow to keep this cult alive
For our tradition to survive
We've let our faith set us apart
Behold our lifeblood, this Black Art
Track Name: Wine Like Clotted Blood
Arise children of nocturnal sight
Senses awaken with approaching night
Fellowship of solemn neophytes
Gather together for this evil rite
Away from prying eyes in the woods
Fires burn with veils of smoke
The feast is set, the pagan god evoked

Wine like clotted blood
Flows like a crimson flood
Here before the altar raised
Bestow infernal praise
Communion of revolt
Subvert the Holy Ghost
Submit to blasphemies
And engage in revelries

Here the devil's bride with vervain crown
Above her brow waits for death
As the witches laugh, dance 'round and 'round
Upon the cross merrily
For the awaiting host propose a toast
As god appears as a goat
She gives herself to him
Absorbing breath, soul, life and all he provides

Thus is the nature of our black fraternity
In acceptance of all foul indecencies
We make a mockery of your reality
Excess; the rule of orphic community

Wine like clootted blood
Track Name: The Monks of Medmenham
Back in the eighteenth century
A dozen dissolute gentlemen
Devoted to debauchery
Formed a club of hellfire
Sir Francis Dashwood founded this
In the Medmenham Abbey
Upon what once was hallowed ground

Lubricious and decadent proclivities thrived there
Sanctimonious and salubrious tendencies died there
Lascivious and forbidden activities flourished
Lecherous and degenerate immoralities were nourished

In those halls all wanton lusts and greed were fulfilled

From the gentry they drew their members
And for their orgies, the finest maidens
In blasphemy they were united
Through impiety they lived unfettered

Wearied with the commonplace all desire ran rampant
Within that church their lust continued undampened

Hidden deep behind chapel walls
They engaged in acts of the most obscene sort
To insult the sacred principles of the Christian God

In emulation of Christ's disciples
Twelve men joined and formed the Superior Order
For their initiation they were rebaptized
And made to mock the faith and it's intent
And with sufficient gusto and wit
The Eucharist of Hell was celebrated by each and all
Track Name: The Hound
In my tortured ears I hear the sound
Of the faint and distant baying of a hound
'Tis not a dream I fear, nor am I mad
For so much has happened that I know that I am damned
I alone know that St. John is now a corpse
And my fate lies upon the same ill-fated course

Ennui from normal pursuits
And jaded sensibilities
Finally led us to this
Morbid practice of grave robbing

Pale autumnal moon casts long shadows over graves
Where within the earth hides the secrets which we crave
Digging through the ground we struck something as hard as rock
And beheld a mouldy and rotting oblong box
There in that Holland churchyard we found our doom
Buried for five centuries evil was entombed
And as we gazed upon skeletal remains
We spied the pendant of a hound carved from the greenest jade

Seizing the green jade object, we closed up the grave and sailed on to England
Though the sound returned and the distant baying of the fiendish hound nearly drove us to madness
Then on one dark night when St. John returned home he was torn to shreds by some unknown being
Thus commenced my dread and the thought to return this cursed amulet to the grave where we found it
So I might save my soul

So at last I stood again in that unwholesome churchyard
Where the sullen leafless trees droop to meet the cracked slabs
Excavation was quick as my sanity took leave
For within that coffin was something I'd not conceived
For that charnel thing we'd robbed there in that box underground
Released a deep sardonic bay as of some gigantic hound
Though I escaped hysterically, my days are now filled with dread
The only comfort left for me will only come when I am dead

I only wish I was dead
I only wish I was dead
I only wish I was dead
I'll put a bullet in my head
Track Name: The Way of Reversal
Occult manifestations in the coven of the dead
Ritual abominations at the altar of bloodshed
Blasphemous defilement of the consecrated host
The coven laughs in merriment and forsakes the Holy Ghost

In outright parody of the Christian faith
They commit vile heresies in the most wretched ways

Demonology and magic is the source of their beliefs
Luciferian religion provides the answers that they seek
Acolytes come to celebrate their corrupt perverted habits
Sacrilegious acts of worship culminate here at the sabbat

Through complete inversion of all normalcy
They will make the conversion to iniquity

Through elaborate pageantry the ceremony thrives
On outrageous indignities unholy passions rise
Zealous defilement of all good things gets initiates high
Every sort of profanity will be explored tonight

Occult manifestations in the coven of the dead
Ritual abominations at the altar of bloodshed
In outright parody of the Christian faith
They commit vile heresies and follow the ancient ways