The Ilusen's Fallacy

by Keegan Ostrowski

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about

Let yourself disintegrate into a blitz of manic, unstable pandemonium.

From demo to debut, over five years in the making, The Ilusen's Fallacy is finally complete. Started in 2013, created and composed by Keegan Ostrowski, this is an hour and a half double length album of prog death metal, featuring Linus Klausenitzer, Marco Minnemann, Jeff Loomis, Sara Vanderheyden, Ryan Cho, and many more.

After half a decade of passionate writing, precise recording, and dedicated engineering, we bring you a multitude of performances spanning all different styles and genres, all retaining crushing death metal roots. 8 full songs, worth 88.88 minutes (1:28:52.525) of gapless music, paying homage to the old school grandfathers of death metal, the prog titans of yesterworld, and the great composers of the far past. A plethora of refined technicality, emotion, and tone, the album will take you on an aural journey while delving into subjects such as disease, war, drug abuse, and more.

Completely naturally mixed guitars, bass, drums, vocals, and violins. Absolutely no samples, triggers, or splices. Entirely organic elements forming a harmoniously biotic nature.

Futile to suppress. Primal and raw sound. Indulge yourself.

credits

released September 8, 2018

Composing, writing, guitar and male vocal recording: Keegan Ostrowski
7-string fretless bass recording: Linus Klausenitzer
Drums and percussion: Marco Minnemann
Female vocal recording: Sara Vanderheyden
Producing, mixing, and mastering engineer: Keegan Ostrowski

Artwork:
Album cover artwork: Krysta Meredith
Album cover photography: Keegan Ostrowski
Other album art: Angela Grimmuza

All proceeds go directly towards the music.

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about

Ilusen's Fallacy San Diego, California

7-string progressive death metal, written by multi-instrumentalist Keegan Ostrowski located in San Diego.

Music composed, mixed, and mastered by Keegan Ostrowski.

7-string guitars recorded by Keegan Ostrowski

7-string fretless bass recorded by Linus Klausenitzer

Percussion and drums recorded by Marco Minnemann

Writing started 2013

88.88 minutes
(1:28:52.52)

Demo'd 8/8/16
Released 9/8/18
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Track Name: 1) Cannonata
I - Retreat!

Running through the battlefield, trying to maintain a low profile, lit the fuck up, avoiding the spray of automatic rifles.
Bad Guys are scanning, you're last ones standing and ammo is running low, your teammates are scattered, left you shot and tattered in the tail all alone.
Got to make it out of sight, push harder, away from the attack, you're wounded, and bleeding, in desperate need of immediate casualty EVAC.
100 meters to upzone, with an adrenaline charge of fear, there's no chance to make it, no reinforcements, you couldn't persevere.

Nowhere to go, Taken by patrol. Captured and imprisoned, You failed your last mission.

II - Neutralized.

Try, to fight back, if you could even stay awake, you're slipping out, being pulled about
By your captors as you can't even kick or shout, to try, to fight back, if you could make out their face
As your senses fade, the death brigade, takes more of your friends in their Cannonade.

III - Captive.

What did we do, to so badly lose, that they captured our entire crew?
We'll never be found, they'll never look for us, here's where my life ends, and starts as a prisoner.

IV - POW

Captured for a prolonged time, been sentenced a lengthy durance, you're stuck here for an endless stay, best hope for the resistance.

Stranded as I lose a hold on time, no more it bears its price, I pray The Opposition comes in the pertinent amount of time,
It's nothing more than a slim hope, from a closed minded perspective, yet I can't tell if I'm dreaming but I hear the interception

V - Cannonata

It’s confirmed, rescue reserve, is on their way to your prison, something that you’ve hoped for silently in prayer but never expected to happen,
You thought you were a gravestone, under terrorist submission, no longer a token, out of their contrition, escaping the seize of the opposing villain.

Made it through, with half your crew, out and over to L-Zone, got swooped by the heli, embarking away, when you’re placed in command of the rampgun,
In charge of getting revenge, as you shower down hundreds of rounds,
You’re unleashing death on the outlaws defending, your captors, criminals, ended by your
Cannonata
Track Name: 3) Icarus
Confined by some imaginary barrier played by people of today.
I will be the one to overcome this, the man to change this ordinance.

With my wings made out of wax and feathers, I will, Take flight, And rise.
Above everyone else, UNSTABLE. I soared, so high, my wings, would melt
Until I crashed into the sea...

Burn. Fall. Constrained like everyone else, by what you can play.

Determined to, create, an incredible masterpiece, unmatched, superlative,
Something too intense, nonpareil. no one to help.
The masters are all perplexed, I took too deep a delve.

I am trapped.

I am powerless.

Once, ages ago, I was committed to create an incredible craftsmanship, unmatched, a paragon,
Something too extreme, unplayable, no one to help, I'm in Hell.
Every maven that I asked, couldn't parallel,
I had failed.
Track Name: 4) V = ⁴⁄₃π Rot³
Before, there was bewilderment. Nothing to use, but brute force and our tools.
Until eager minds from Mediterranean lands, founded their cults to collectively understand.
Together they sing, their glorious myth, of universal language
Collaborated, from only the best of theoreticians.
Together they sing, their brilliant saga, of their lingua franca.
Their works would survive, outlive any other dialect.

Together they sing.

Formulas recreate a science for us to agree, to be passed down below to new life that will outdate us.
Born to calculate all of mankind's ultimate problems, preceding far among us, a different form of titans
Making functions to define how we live throughout our lives, and creating standards for preventing more of us to die
Theorems constructed to explain the milestones of untouchable horizons that were supposed to be unlocked.

Some are studied, well known. Some are secret, hidden. Some to be exploited. Some to be discovered.
Some are old legacies. Some are commodities. Some to be utilized. Some to be recognized.

We depend on them. So true, and genuine. We give in to them to expose the heavens.
We depend on them to guide us. Fact, and truth. So divine. We give in to them to trust,
To reveal the heavens.
(To help us to ascend.)

A machine, so elegant, a noble code, subsequent
A quantiverse, magnificent, phenomenal, exquisite.

Harmonize data to comprehend. Scrutinize the cosmological. Organize its complete eloquence. Centralize all the methodical.
Track Name: 5) Opium and Belladonna
I. Substances
The Matter at Hand

A choice, that sets a rotten path, one you can't tread back, nor change where it goes, it's too much weight.
Once held, you're cradled in it's arms, life, from then, transformed. A tsundere to defy, you interrelate.
An amber full of joy. Indulgence at a risk. No one matters, as long as you get a fix.
Emotional blockage, interstellar feeling, blissful numbness that has you kneeling, poison in the form of a dried latex.

Memory fades, succumbing to sensation. A familiar feeling you want, reacquainted.
A difficult battle against your own must, your own will, but once you give in, you're at a temporary fill.

A seed, so tiny in a yield, cultivated from the same field, a toxic substance that trades your value to hallucinate.
You feel the floor under incline, the buzz of brain cells as they die, you fail to show any concern as you let your mind deteriorate.

II. Short Term Side Effects
Emmnas’s Perspective

I gazed on down, distraught, as this all took place, impossible to endure that behavior,
Impacted deeply at what I’d discovered, all I felt was a displacive failure.
Two options laid down in front of me, torn between two choices I had with you, I was confused
All the times I woke up near midnight, unsettled, and disturbed, and perturbed, challenged when I’d do all I could do.

Why was it so hard for you to see what you’d do?

You tried to create leverage, like what you’d do would reflect on who I was, like it was a part of us.
You tried to find a crack to fill, something I would deflect, I was lucky to, see through your invalid trust.
Upon my frail decision, to give you up, to cut the tie, it wasn’t something that I wished to do.
You backed me up against a wall, one that would’ve taken me, ensnared me, something that I couldn’t live up to.

Why couldn’t you see? That you damaged yourself more than you hurt me.

Why can’t you see, what you’d do to me? I couldn’t see, you tried to help me.

III. Long Term Side Effects.
Emcere’s Perspective.

Breathe. Help me. Drowning. I need…

Sensory fades, transforming to elation. A familiar feeling you need, reacquainted.
A difficult battle against your own want, your own will. As always, you give in, you're at your temporary fill.

You didn’t understand what was wrong, you are entitled to help me, I made a mistake, and I’m hurt but I demand you take me back and HELP.
I pushed you away and did this to myself while hurting the ones I loved. You persisted to help me through it yourself, but I went and ended your
Trust.

I’m alone, please, don’t go, help me through, I beg of you.

At first it was just to stay a little try, I had no idea that it’d lead to this, I’m succumbed by its hold on me, I can’t break fit.
It weakens you and it freely wrecks your life, burning all that you care about to ashes and replacing them with turbulence,
Opium and Belladonna.

It weakens you and it freely wrecks your life, melting all that you care about to resin and replacing it with turbulence,
Opium and Belladonna.
Track Name: 6) Airborne Hemorrhagic Virus
Started out as a virus in the waters of Southern Sudan, in the Nile Valley of North Africa
Traveling to Zaire, tearing its way through the Congo and Zambia, eating through third worlds like a
Modernized plague, with a body count skyrocketing to quintet-digits, with nothing as remedy,
The more it spreads, the more it mutates, evolves, escalates into something much more threatening.

Everlasting, rapidly acting, it's not reacting, to any treatment that we sequence.
Invincible, inevitable, indomitable, now it's plaguing all the air you breathe.
Hemorrhagic. Pathogenic.

Horrific anomalic plague, spawned from conundrum, from near a stoic location, mysteriously birthed by random.
No one’s confirmed from where it comes, but spectacle tells of a case, of a headmaster from Yambuku, who set up camp in one deadly place,
He was the first with these symptoms, since Nzara in June, believed to have Malaria, but soon treatment showed immune,
The doctors wrongly prepared, their Quinine was useless, as more and more the virus spread, the disease was poised ruthless.

As ignorant as they were, reusing needles went over their head,
And as arrogant as they were, they overlooked how badly the virus had spread.
Roads and airfields all put under guard, they locked down, the city, under martial law,
Trouble, and panic, unfolded along, there was chaos.

Underneath all the fear laid an absolute key;
Death.

Mutagens, evolving the agent to a higher brand, able to survive being swept and carried through the lands,
Impossibly bred, but alive and animate anyway, unreactive to the environment
A coastal breeze, picks it up and throws it across the sea, deporting the virus out like a criminal expellee.
Like a raven migrating to the northern west, snowing down, aimed at more to infest.

Death maximal, international, supernatural, traveling to every single country.
Emergency, high mortality, the ICDC couldn’t apprehend this level breach
Hemorrhagic. Epidemic.

Microscopic, taking place underneath the human eye. Catastrophic, creating chaos everywhere it flies.
Subconjuctive, bleeding its host to death out of its eyes. Quite demonic, it’s highly predicted everybody dies.

Masks slapped onto every face who thinks they have a chance, in vain, they too-late heighten research finance.
That’s the thing about futility, is that you never prepare until you need to solve the problem, now it’s time to concede.
A guaranteed death, with a genus made undefeatable, once the contact is made, it’s set into be repeatable
Can’t keep yourself safe, can’t lock your doors or seal yourself away, the only type of quarantine is to vacuum out from all the oxygen.

Neurotically, sporadically, intravenously not following any type of bias.
Tragically, high-casualty, chaotically, due punishment for being impious.
Hemorrhagic. Airborne Virus.
Track Name: 7) Rubatosis
Weird dimensions, of impossible planes. Odd projections, of mysterious state.
The less I harbor focus is the more that I'm aware. Gaining ability to transcend through the zephyr.
I can see my eyes.

Lost, trapped inside my head, I need to coil my way out, caught inside my own bloodstream,
nursing fear, and real doubts, the more that I manifest, the harder that I'm caught.
Virtually my enemy, but the only thing to help me down, I try to protrude out my veins but my temple is a steel house,
constrained by what I think, but I can't change a single thought.

Drift, floating through synapses, snapping of the will to pass, as flashes of my past collapse around me, thrashing further,
ashes fall from the dynasties fashioned from my time elapsed.
Shift, lasting fear expanding, dashing through my rationale, the action of my bastion crashing, paralyzing my reaction,
the magic of human intellect, shattering like glass.
Track Name: 8) Bots_Build_Bots_Build_Bots
- First Movement -
- The Confusion -

Waking up, amnesiac, from a cryogenic egg,
Dazed, as you step out, metal supports strapped to your legs.
Enclosed on all six faces by a strongheld glass chamber,
Enticed by a robotic voice, leading you to danger,
Emancipation grid after grid, trial after trial,
The only purpose, being science, almost seeming futile.
Projected audio frightens you, with haphazard words of dismay,
"You can have your daughter tested, at Bring Your Child To Work Day"

As the timer overhead runs down,
You're led through your only way out,
Being briefed with a strenuous mission, worried by your own admonition,
Provided a seemingly nonstop quest, you have one purpose, and that's to

Test
Never getting a rest,
Being pressed on by obsession from false consciousness
Computerized, in charge, overbearing you,
Forcing you to

Incinerate your only friend, sending you to your Hell next.

- Second Movement -
- The Assault -

Climbing through a concrete jungle, out of her sight and detection,
Inching closer in the outskirts, leading yourself her direction,
Organic against digital, artificial mind processing,
Scanning, trying to find any corner you might be hiding in.
As you see the laboratory for it's legacy that had been
Flushed and destroyed, damning it all with her deadly neurotoxin.
A labyrinth of steel supports, to help you make your escape,
As you hear her cold evil voice, trying to make this place your grave.

Brought to a catwalk, ready to confront,
Before she gets to kill you, you destroy her sense of morality,

This is your fault.
Get ready for a fight.
This is the end.
Get ready to die.

Use her attacks against her, to strip her of her persona,
Throw her nature, into the fire, to make your firm approach.
As she overloads, you're blown out by explosion
Thank you for assuming the party escort position.

- Third Movement -
- The Rattmann -

How could this happen? She almost escaped.
We were so close, we almost made it.

But now she's back, they brought her back, they dragged her right back to her tube and led her right back to this trap,
Back to the first, a plot rehearsed, a story fruitioned and reimbursed,
Reorganized, a second time, a tale restarted brought to timeline,
She needs to wake, for her own sake, for her own fate, she must awake.

She needs my help. I need my pills.
There's no way else. I think it's time.
No other way. I apologize,
But today's the day.

We wake her up. We put her first. We see her through, make sure it works, she, will,
Wake, open the box, first on the list, make sure she escapes.

- Fourth Movement -
- The Reawakening -

Woken up after years of being forced asleep.
Cognitive deterioration surges deep.
Introduced to some kind of vague new "face",
Assuming he's the only way to escape this place.

Brought back, to this cold environment,
Set to test, an escape with trialment,
Your new friend is set to help, as you travel deeper.
The old lab, has underwent hell and back,
The outside going through some kind of havoc,
You need to get out, to find out what has peaked.

You're going to make it, the odds are in your waiver,
You'll see daylight, the Gods are delivering your favor,
You and your friend will pull through, and reach that escape pod in time.

Your old foe, in hibernated comatose,
All led up and caused by her evil choice,
As she tried to deflect guilt to you, before she had died.

Here! Need to put it gear, keep your hands off any switch that you can't cohere.
Look for "Escape Pod", maybe it's above, if only I could…

Mistakenly flip every switch, rebooting the digital witch.

- Fifth Movement -
- The Reboot -

Oh.

It's you.

You're landed right back to the start, with aid of a moronic counterpart,
You can run as far as you wish but you're still going to be forced to test
Until you know these rooms by heart, killing her tore her apart,
But it wasn't enough to keep her dead, because she effortlessly rebuilt herself.

With your's and that idiot's aid, she's back with a revengeful rage
Psychologically tormented, your exit out has been prevented.

Mentally keeping you unstable, it's her this time, that turns the tables,
All your effort is nullified, as you're repetitively, insanely tried.

Now that you're awake, you cannot escape, this is now your fate, you cannot escape.
Now that you're awake, you cannot escape, this is now your fate, you cannot escape.

- Sixth Movement -
- The Reclaim -

This is now your chance, you can escape, a patterned advance. Now that you're awake, you can escape, run this way.
We only have one chance, one plan to escape. The only way to free ourselves is making a Reclaim.

We've got to make a stand by gaining the upper hand,
Replace the template with a defect, cut her toxin at the source,
As the past replays itself, confronting this machine from Hell,
You gain the courage to step forward and bring her to her fall,

With your human help, as stalemate associate,
You take her down and replace her with the lesser evil idiot,
The switch is mistakenly made, the corrupted core's withdrawn,
But replaced with something much more foreign, something your “friend” can’t fathom.

"I... AM NOT... A MORON"

- Seventh Movement -
- The Plunge -

The intercom's still playing, but this voice isn't scaring me it's enticing me with faint sounds of memory.
My mind starts to illustrate a figure in my head of someone nostalgically important to me.
This voice hits home in such unexplainable ways, I'm caught up in feelings of mystery.
But short glimpses of the father that I never knew somehow relay themselves back over to me.

- Eighth Movement -
- The Climb -

Ascending up, revengeful, with a diabolic aid,
Tasked to stop destruction, preventing core self decay,
As you make yourself draw closer, entirely unafraid
You're about to set things very right after how you'd been betrayed.
You've worked so hard for freedom, as it's constantly delayed,
But it's just about time you take control, you're no longer a slave,
He thinks his traps are smart, but they're nothing you can't evade,
As his brandish delight for testing you slowly starts to degrade.

You understand you have one choice,
Led to safety by that "robotic voice",
He's trying to make you into nothing, but not without your trouble,
This is your luck to take freedom back, these tests have their results.