by Yellow Eyes

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prosthesis_ If you want traditional style black metal in terms of its instrumentation and overall songwriting style, these guys are the best right now.

Extremely creative riff-writing, unparalleled musicianship, seamless song structures, and fantastic choice in atmospheric introductions. The opening riff to this title track floored me, and the intro (before the band itself comes in) will haunt and soothe me forever. Favorite track: Stillicide.
Matthew Toye
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Matthew Toye I'm not a doctor but I'm writing you a prescription as one supporter to another. Listen to Yellow Eyes twice a day if you're a fan of top shelf black metal. Call me in the morning. Favorite track: Heat From Other Days.
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Shapeshifting If they follow in the same steps as this ep and "The Desert Mourns" then YE will become one of my all time black metal bands, easily. Favorite track: Heat From Other Days.
xhrl_ thumbnail
xhrl_ Of the Yellow Eyes with which I am familiar, this is the one I consider the finest. Yellow Eyes does black metal their way and they are unique. I consider this essential black metal if you feel, like me, that black metal can be transfiguring, even bring joy and life through its bleakness. I love that irony -- but even more so, I love this superb work by Yellow Eyes. Favorite track: Stillicide.
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One-sided 12" available at (limited to 166) SOLD OUT


released November 28, 2014



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Yellow Eyes New York, New York


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Track Name: Stillicide
I have no dreams
A tree fell and crushed the taut strings
Outside the gate
A figure at the same place
Picks at the tar and waits for my house
His gasping question
How long will you survive?
After rain stillicide drips from the roof
Into his old tin cans
I don’t see where he takes water
A paste, crushed leaves and spit
Is brought out
And painted on him, straining
I have no dreams
From the roof I hear him scream
The fishing lines that held me up
Are caught under the tree
I hope it rains enough to rot it quickly
Track Name: Heat From Other Days
I took the lower path
Full of pellets, unresolved
To avoid the lighted room under the lake
I remember at first
The tilted blue oceans of the valley
As evening took the color from the weeds
I tried to keep the bread and water face
From showing on the mountain
Many years inside the lighted room
A lacerated grin hung from my jaw
Complicated panes of glass
And passing shoulders locked me in
When I was old enough
I pushed aside a tile
And snaked through the cold muck
Into the vast and brittle day
I took the lower path
Full of pellets, unresolved
And I let the heat from other days become my fire