Merriment abounds as we malcontents are put to flame, and kept between these windowless walls. Peel the paint back. Claw at the leather. Make your way back. Rub right right through the pleasure. Unaware of the ground or the space you…

On my tongue is a name that I cannot quite hear, as I come to, bewildered, but given to rise when the light comes in. Like sifting through a bag full of knives for a crown, it’s been so long that I can’t tell which face is mine. The widow…

A near future something or other. Synth pads, muffled drums, lap steel with an ebow, big fog bass, etc. All analog instruments recorded direct in for now. Gotta finish writing it before I drag out amps and whatnot. Thanks for checking in…

Track 1 of 4, from Uncle Woe’s sophomore LP, Phantomescence Released 23/10/2020 © 2020 Packard Black Productions All Rights Reserved Written by Rain Fice & Nicholas Wowk Performed and recorded by Rain Fice and Nicholas Wowk, April to…

Track 2 of 4, from Uncle Woe’s sophomore LP, Phantomescence Released 23/10/2020 © 2020 Packard Black Productions All Rights Reserved Written by Rain Fice Performed and recorded by Rain Fice and Nicholas Wowk, April to July, 2020. Artwork…

Track 3 of 4, from Uncle Woe’s sophomore LP, Phantomescence Released 23/10/2020 © 2020 Packard Black Productions All Rights Reserved Written by Rain Fice Performed and recorded by Rain Fice and Nicholas Wowk, April to July, 2020. Artwork…

Track 4 of 4, from Uncle Woe's sophomore LP, Phantomescence Released 23/10/2020 © 2020 Packard Black Productions All Rights Reserved Written by Rain Fice Performed and recorded by Rain Fice and Nicholas Wowk, April to July, 2020. Artwork…

Son of the Queen Isolating the cross-hatched memories of those starless nights when we searched for light to pour through the wounds we carry around, fashioned after and fawning, we, now downward, fall. A cast-iron bodice over the whimsical has…

That’s How They Get You Bleeding trails, a map to everywhere you’ve ever been. Seeping in from beyond the boundless fringe, you cannot be sustained, and won’t be washed away. You light an abandoned fire in someone else’s yard. That’s how they…

When the Night Fell in Pt. 2 I’m watched from on high, and the skyline is my skin. I cannot wait to find out what your gallows weigh. I’m washed and given insides of the finest leather trim. I cannot stay to find out if the gallows sway. Oh…

Mania for Breaking With my mouth full of birds, and having taken just the tonic, I find the sky filled with my words; painted in distances hobbled and haunted. The way out is hidden from my view, and my hands are soiled with my birth. Spiralling…

Push the Blood Back in When the last bit of light that shines through is dead and we are all matching shadows with the same blank reflection, distracted and withered and bound to the ceiling, can you not even then, feel it move on your skin…

A 10:00 miniature album. 10 songs. 1:00 each. Videos in the works. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2saE0SuGpRw Nest Six Second Sunrise Villa Dorma Stop Motion (Recluse) Paraffin Alien Trick Lung The Semblant Ounce Big Guy One of…

©2018 Packard Black Productions Written/Performed by Rain Fice.

This recording dates back to about 2013, and I'm almost positive I've never posted it anywhere. It's on the verge of getting a reboot, so I figured what the H? It's worth noting that this is one of the first 4 or 5 things I ever played drums…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6AnVtx8F-w I lay down on the very ground where all at once we prey are taken to our knees and felled like spring time clothes. We rose and fell and rose again like northward vultures on an island of hands…

Early, instrumental draft of a work in progress. ©2018 Packard Black Productions Written by Rain Fice. Arranged, performed, and recorded by Rain Fice and Nicholas Wowk, in Bancroft, Ontario, Sept. 2018.

Bleeding trails, a map to everywhere you've ever been; seeping in from beyond the boundless fringe. This cannot be sustained, and won't be washed away. You light an abandoned fire in someone else's yard. That's how they get you. I’m crawling…

With my mouth full of birds, and having taken just the tonic, I find the sky filled with my words; painted in distances. Hobbled and haunted. The way down is hidden from my view. My hands are soiled with my own birth. I’m crawling…