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Temps Morts


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starvynth thumbnail
starvynth "You know that sometimes you just need a drum machine to pound you into oblivion. Temps Morts does that."

Full review: metalstorm.net/pub/review.php?review_id=16959
Dave Aftandilian
Dave Aftandilian thumbnail
Dave Aftandilian Darkly shining filthy black industrial vitriol spat in the face of all liars and fools. For all seekers of the truth that lies hidden behind the false idols, the illusions of heaven and hell--the wisdom that comes from letting go of the self and all direction, simply to be.
Cheveu Miracle
Cheveu Miracle thumbnail
Cheveu Miracle ↪ (indus black metal / 2021 / Switzerland 🇨🇭 / )
bmurator thumbnail
bmurator Swiss Industrial Black Metal! The man behind it all is Bornyhake and, together with Lady Kaos, they have a very potent recipe for desolation & the darkest of moods! This is the stuff of nightmares & it is absolutely brilliant! If you listen carefully, you can even understand the words most of the time. Favorite track: L’Écho de mon Mal.
lexie thumbnail
lexie The horrific roars as the machine whirs to life. The sweet, ecstatic agony as it crushes your bones. Favorite track: L’Écho de mon Mal.
H.L. thumbnail
H.L. Industrial black metal is a rare sub-genre and BORGNE are the best representatives, like - take this as a very loose comparison - the Fear Factory or Ministry of black metal. But BORGNE act in a far darker and more evil way. I found earlier albums like "Royaume des ombres" or "Règne des morts" even more massive and dense in their unstoppable cold blackness, but also "Temps morts" is brutal and atmospheric at the same time. Check the piercing "Near the bottomless Precipice I stand"! Favorite track: Near the bottomless Precipice I stand.
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I hate you ! I despise you ! For you are the Abyss of my heart, the Zenith of my decay. And I will bury your corpses, under mountains of torments. The sky holder will abandon his due, And all the stars will fall upon you. To cut the flesh and feel nothing but stillness. I hate you ! I despise you ! I used to think that life Was a straight line on which I walked. How can a single instant Be the convergence of an Infinity of moments ? The Past, Present and Future Are just words that give us an illusion of understanding, Of control, Upon a torrent that forever flows in all directions. But this path is not without thorns.
For the Ones who look at the skies May miss the danger in front of them. I was a dreamer, whispering to the stars, Without getting any answers. As I nourished the hunger of the well, With meaningless illusions. And you were also bathed in your own lies. I would like to tighten your throat, Keep you below the waves of denial Until your last spark goes out And the turmoil stops. Will we ever realize That every prayer hides a curse ? A bottle thrown into an ocean of vanity Thinking that our problems deserve to be solved Without poisoning others’ chalices. I would like to tighten your throat, Keep you below the waves of denial Until your last spark goes out And the turmoil stops. When the swords of the headless angels, Who come upon the Earth in a ghostly procession, Will afflict the fundaments of our shrines, Will we be able to accept our defeat ? Will we see a wise radiance behind the curtains of grief ? Or will we sink, blind again, Into the streams of deception and delusion While singing some insane, meaningless and empty litanies ? The witches aren’t dancing around the fires anymore. A mysterious peril hides, needing no spell, Standing against a self-destroying tribe.
La haine enivre celui qui souhaite la goûter. Une mélasse noire qui corrompt et consume. Mais dont l’apparente douceur me fait oublier mes valeurs. Une euphorique Furie dirigée à ton encontre. Il me manque le courage d’accepter ce qui ne peut être dit. D’oser ce qui ne peut être fait. De pouvoir te pardonner. Sous ton apparente innocence se cachent les pires atrocités. Aiguisé comme l’outil que porte L’Ombre de la dernière rencontre, Ton regard est l’écho de mon Mal. Quelle idée absurde que celle qui nous fait penser Que le Passé n’a rien à nous révéler. J’étais un fou, qui buvait à la coupe de l’ignorance Et s’étonnait de voir sa soif ne jamais se dissiper. Comment pourrais-je trouver ces clefs, Si tu ne cesses de me hanter ? Car même là où les trois formes se mêlent, Il n’y a point de Salut. À la recherche du brasier des sens, Je cours en portant une torche qui ne cesse de s’éteindre. Ne sachant si sa lueur percera le voile de ma nuit Et réchauffera le voyageur que je suis. Car il n’y a pas de destination, pas de repos. Et sur ma route, les corps s’amoncelant Obstruent le chemin et gorgent la terre de sang. Une direction salvatrice ? Une porte ouvrant sur une vision Au-delà des murs froids et humides ? Mais j’avance. La tête baissée. Pensant que le répit Est comme un point sur une carte, Dont les détails me sont illisibles. La brise glaçante caresse mes os. Je suis le dédale dans lequel Aucun indice ne fut laissé.
Every line has a shadow. Thus preached the Creator of disasters. The one who refused to saw the Death in front of him And led the way to the higher spheres. And you, a useless and awful ornament, Into the horrible mouth you fall, With your body consumed by the Void in the sky. My feet bear the weight of my fears And all my senses tell me to turn back. But our Lifes rime with futility And we look at the sun in order to burn our eyes. In the Firmament, All the cups are pouring their wrath upon us, All temples must collapse on their altars And this delightful tragedy will erase all perverted particules. The fiery rays that come from the Center Blaze the thin layers of Life. Every road has an end. Thus spoke the ninth Unknown. The one who saw the pile of corpses And became the keeper of the worst secrets. And me, a failing and broken tool, Near the bottomless precipice I stand With my mind focused on the starless horizon. But the sweet chants resonate And I see a world hidden behind the opaque fog. At a certain point, All Gods are supposed to fall from their Heavens, And this descent will sound like a mellow cataclysm.
I drown my eyes into the broken mirror, A realm of sharpened fragments, All oriented in different directions, To reflect multiple visions of this so-called Reality. A decomposition of Space and Time Incarnated in front of myself. A daily tool transformed into the witness Of the smallness of our kind.
Mensonges et réalité se mêlent En une alchimique image Dont les contours N’ont pas de limites Et dont l’acte me fait ressentir une présence. Un regard immobile qui scrute pourtant toutes les directions. Plus il m’est donné d’apprendre et de savoir, Plus la résolution des questions qui me tourmentent Ne se projette que comme un vain et lointain espoir. Et j’erre en tentant de lire cette boussole, Qui n’indique plus le Nord. Mais s’oriente, au gré des tempêtes, Vers des horizons aux teintes ardentes. Y a-t-il seulement une sortie ? J’y ai longtemps songé. Je tirais sur une corde Qui, à aucun instant, ne se tendait. Dura Lex, Sed Lex. Et j’erre en tentant de lire cette boussole, Qui n’indique plus le Nord. Mais s’oriente, au gré des tempêtes, Vers des horizons aux teintes ardentes.
Isn’t it ironic, That the sheeps searching for a shelter to rest, Fall asleep into the wolves’s lair ? Am I strong enough To break the shackles of my Ego And transcend the mirage ? To not follow my deepest instincts The ones that lead me Straight into this rotten oasis ? The endless desert, This barren earth, Where the crown is hidden, Is transforming itself, Forever and ever.
The two-faced sculpture brings us the Truth That can only be seen into the reflections of the scythe And vanishes itself with the dawn. But in the end, Even if the Devil sings into my ears again, Should I decide to keep you alive ? We look at this cadaveric edifice Without recognizing that the delirium of the ever-growing tower Keeps burning in our hearts. But in the end, Even if the Devil sings into my ears again, Should I decide to keep you alive ? As if the only goal we try to achieve Is to build wax statues under the burning Sun.
As the headless one is looking for a shelter for his soul, I understand that my temple is one of a kind. Golden columns hidden behind ashes and dust. I want to grab one of these fragments and hurt the whole Creation. For your love is my hate, And your laughs are my cry ! For your life is my pain, And I want you to die ! I use to think that all of this wasn’t real, That I will open my eyes And perceive the real colors. But every breath keeps me blind And I just cumulate the errors. Why can’t I easily cut these chains ? Why did you leave me there ? Your hand was my only escape, But everything is blurry now.


ORDER here: lesacteursdelombre.net/product-category/bands/borgne/

Continuously pushing its own limits for the past two decades, Borgne is a powerful machinery spreading mechanical coldness and producing an industrial energy.
Constantly evolving throughout its already released eight albums, this Swiss band has been hammering various stages since 2011, leaving a lasting impression on spectators' minds.
Entwining ethereal melodies and drum machines’ pounding, Borgne will grasp you into abyssal depths.


released May 21, 2021

Bornyhake – Vocals, Strings, Electronics, Music
Lady Kaos – additional keyboards
Onbra – Lyrics
Basstard – additional bass

Registered by Bornyhake

Mastered by Raphaël Bovey at MyRoom studio, Lausanne

Artwork by Javor Rado


all rights reserved



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LES ACTEURS DE L’OMBRE PRODUCTIONS is an association bringing passionate people together, all volunteers. Our vocation? Presenting bands we love, usually coming from nowhere!

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