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by nightshroud

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saimonix All the elements of this release - music itself, story, cover, the atmosphere and motifs of Prekursor releases, tags even, work together creating a very powerful and immersive experience. I can't listen to this while being in a good mood - it immidiately pierces the bubble and makes me drown in the darkness creeping in from all directions. Listen if you dare to look into the abyss of despair. Favorite track: Not Getting Out Of Bed Today.


Street Dogs: Clive, The Gas Station Nightshift Slacker

"Finally" Clive mumbles to himself. It's Friday 6am, time for him to pack his stuff and go home. His co-worker who will take over the next shift should be here any moment. "Where is this bastard?!" he can hardly wait. His job at the gas station really gets the best of him. Clive is working nightshifts at a gas station in his district. Usually Monday to Friday from 10pm to 6am. If luck is not on his side there might be another shift on Saturdays or Sundays. "These nightshifts will be the end of me" he thinks to himself as his co-worker arrives. Strutting through the pouring rain Clive finally gets to leave his little personal hell. It's not that the work is particularly hard. What drives Clive mad is that his work is meaningless, at least to him. It certainly isn't meaningless to the customers that walk all over him whenever they can. And this meaninglessness really does him in. Clive gets home at around 6:30. Not even bothering to hang his coat up he just drops it somewhere on his apartment floor. He takes off his work clothes immediately like taking the leash of a wild animal. The bags under his eyes feel heavy, but Clive can't rest just yet. He sits down before going to bed, lighting up a cigarette, staring out the window. He needs a few moments to collect himself and to reflect. Clive is the product of a failed dream. He never intended to work a job like this and even though it's hard for him to admit, he played a bigger role in his own misfortune than he tells other people. "Follow your dreams" is what he hears in his head. "Pathetic", Clive scrolls through his phone. Social media plastered with positive affirmations. Self help gurus popping up at every corner. Clive dropped out of school to pursue his passion of nude photography. Yes, the groggy gas station nightshift slacker you walked all over just a few hours ago is a passionate nude photographer. He is not in it for the sheer pleasure of taking pictures of naked woman, although he would lie if it wasn't part of his enjoyment. He loves capturing bodies, their perfect imperfections. God's creation unfolding in front of his eyes every time he takes another shot. The golden ratio. A forgotten art in this day and age where human augmentations are on the rise and Clive knows that all too well. But after dropping out, things didn't work out like Clive envisioned them, despite his best efforts and some minor success he couldn't afford living off of his passion. So choosing between a roof over his head and the cold concrete of the streets, Clive chose to work a job. A job he hates, to his own demise. It's not so much that he wouldn't hate another job. Anything that doesn't involve women undressing and him taking pictures of the spectacle deserves his hate. "Where did I go wrong?". Misinformed by a naive belief that chasing your dreams is all you needed to succeed Clive finds himself in this predicament. In the morning when Clive walks home he takes a route over one of the city's biggest shopping streets. There is always a few homeless people using the entrances of a shopping mall as a safe place from the cold wind. What bitter irony, he always thought to himself. Homeless people sleeping on the steps of another consumerist temple. People travel here like its their Mecca everyday to spend money they earned by their own enslavement. It's pathetic, he thinks to himself every time he walks by, but he can't help being glad he isn't the one sleeping on the floor. The cigarette is almost finished. The thing is, work is so exhausting for Clive, even on his days off he is incapable of being productive. He is completely drained. Overworked and underpaid. Lately, he just shuts out the world. The curtains still closed. If he makes it out of bed it is only to play videogames or to go after other gratifying pleasures. Fast food. Drugs. Escapism became his new religion that he attends to everyday. So there he is, suffering away. No light on the horizon. His life reduced to a meaningless 40 hour horror loop. He is nothing more than an empty shell, a lifeless husk. Just another casualty of the "Follow your dreams" mentality.


Music & narrative by nightshroud
Mastered by Kilian Mayer
Artwork by Hydra_v0id


released April 23, 2021


all rights reserved



Prekursor Seoul, South Korea

A foreshadowing of our dark future.

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