In the beginning there was the end. In the face of endless iterations of ideas, four bards were yearning for distant shores, packed their sea chests and hired. From an old band of comrades emerged KATERGON, a crew of those byzantine triremes with which antique empires were won and held; ready to sing the songs of the rough sea and to withstand the ever-looming doom that lay ahead.
And it would prove to be a battle, had one to bear and perceive a world stripped of its superficial and strained civilization. Poseidon’s floods are wild and unrelenting, tricky shoals may force the careless traveller to remain in shallow waters, daunting cliffs hide fearful monstrosities and the sheer expanse of sea extinguishes even the smallest glimmer of hope of ever again reaching a comforting homeland.
On board, Orpheus has become wary of his gods. He cannot sing any songs of love any more if he wishes to be true to his wayfarers. So in the face of horror, the brave poet brings forth poetry that abides its own abyss and enwraps each sailor’s soul in melodies of melancholia. So comes a spherical, twisting rebellion of music-making combatants, searching and singing, at times despairing, at times exultant, then dying and discouraged, but overall a monumental universe dedicated to doom without being overwhelmed by it.
In its essence, KATERGON is an experience, a cosmos of sound, interwoven with subtle motives and a myriad of harmonies, born of the pure spirit of music.