Monody Remembrance



Monody was founded by Joris van den Heuvel (bass and vocals) and Berry van Heerden (guitar) in December 1995. Shortly after, Hendrik Meerbeek (guitar) joined, after answering an ad in a local music store. Drums and synthesizers were played by a computer and were composed mainly by Joris and Hendrik. Berry left the band 6 months later and Ferdinand Maks (guitar) joined.


Why would anyone listen to an underground local doom band that's been dead for about ten years now? By composing songs on a computer we managed to write songs with unique style and structures. Guitar solos were not quite standard, very melodic and prearranged for example. By composing on a computer with a wave table synthesizer it was possible to write songs with not only drums, bass, guitars and vocals, but also violins, gregorian choirs, synthesizers, woodblocks, bells, timpani and much more. We liked to ironically describe our music and the band by labelling it as a "doom metal orchestra", being only with the three of us. The gothic doom was an upcoming style in the early nineties, inspired by bands like early Paradise Lost, early The Gathering, early My Dying Bride, early Celestial Season and early Anathema. Our lyrics were inspired by the utmost grieves and fears we felt. Being depressed often, it was not so hard to be inspired. Our purpose was to dwell in (our own) depression.


We rehearsed in the garage at the Van den Heuvel residence at first. After Ferdi joined, we started rehearsing in the basement of Zanetti-bar, an underground - literally - artistic bar in Breda. Later we performed some live gigs in Zanetti, Para and the "Kraakkerk" in Breda. Only one gig was great, the others were succesfully depressing, meaning that only few people of the audience stayed and listened. Ferdi had composed a complete movie with fragments of films that fitted exactly with our music. We showed it on a large projection screen at both gigs in Zanetti, and used fluid slides and candles in Para. Combined with our depressing music, it must have been quite a weird and unique presentation in the scene at that time. Monody was progressive and briefly tried to combine doom with jungle for example. But, being students we never had any money to record music properly. Joris luckily built a lot of electrical gadgets himself. We made some T-shirts and longsleeves ourselves and strangely enough they were sold in no-time. After Ferdi left the band in 1997, Joris and Hendrik called it a day and founded a stoner rock band called Groozle Fuzzgig, for which we might also build a site like this one.


The first CD, "Remembrance", contains live rehearsals we recorded in the basement of Zanetti bar. Although Monody wrote about 16 long songs, only some of them were captured live on casette-tape. In 2006, Hendrik decided to put this material on a CD so it would not get lost completely. The second cd "Tracking screams" contains computer versions of some other songs we wrote. Remember, we're talking 1996 here, so the sound is in both cases lo-fi, because we did not have any professional equipment nor any money to enter a studio. It might add to the atmosphere...

The inlay is a compilation of old material and deliberately shows our lyrics. We hope these CDs will fulfill the Monody purpose post mortem: dwelling in depression.

Even the worst negative feelings and thoughts can bring forth creative ideas. We'd like to share this kind of therapy with anyone who's open for it.


Who knows, maybe we'll find time, some time, to properly record all these lost bards' tales and then maybe we'll know if they would've been able to communicate the message.

The Apprentice

I was nothing but a pawn
On your battlefield of chess
Though I swallowed you whole
Just following orders

You told me to excel my master
So now when it's true
Don't dare to crawl back
See me lead the masses

Reality will be different
from this day forward
Brilliant I will be
Endlessly to control

Your constrained opinion
Smothered by me
Listen to me you will listen to me
Listen to me now

Joris van den Heuvel, February 4 1996

The Cold Of Winter

A thousand winters
Carve my soul

The ones who deceive me
They can't restrain
Their minds twisted
With feelings of elation

I plough my heart
Emotions of freezing cold
A thousand winters
Carve my soul

Blood pounding inside
Infects me with red hate
The ones who deceive me
I can't...

A thousand winters
Carve my soul
I regret being weak
But I can't...

Hate for pleasure

Joris van den Heuvel, May 8 1996


Why is it that I cannot leave
My mind perpetuates this endless thought
Forever fearful of my own powers
Indulge me to my demise

How happy I'd be if the world ceased today
Though this thought burns with pain so great
Besides all of them I'd also lose you
And your ever shining eyes

While these peals of rage roll over
I keep torturing my mind
Musing, abusing and choosing to pass
Forces me to be left in slumber

The addiction to wisdom
Needs endless grief to satisfy
My greedy prosperous mourns
Yet I still have you to think of

Joris van den Heuvel, February 13 1996

Drown in me

Shadows of cardboard statues
Fake temples of a false purity
Resemblance to reality of
An expired roman empire

Grief, sorrow, anguish, pain
Misfortune, adversity, misery, sadness
Words cannot express the true melancholy
This scenery denotes the acts of my suffering

Agony, worry, ache, depression
Displease, dejection, tragedy, torture
Stories can never tell the true desolation
Nothing feels like drowning in me

Drowning in me
Drowning in me
Drown in me
Drown in me

Joris van den Heuvel, March 26 1997


Your coffin was empty. You never ceased to exist.
You claim to have discovered the essence of our being.
You once told me that life is just a screen,
something far greater than a man will ever know.

"Let this temporal body be burnt down to ashes.
Let the air of life be merged with total truth.
Remember all his sacrifices, as we are his ultimate heir
Remember all our days with him, as in us he'll be undying"

The torment can never be stopped
Your blackened blood stains my hands
You claim to have murdered your own soul
And now you've come back for me

Hungry for my mind's inheritance
You crawl into my thoughts
Accusing me of killing you
You let me feel your guilt

"Please take this soul to keep, for no one ever returned.
In forgiving his sins we trust, in eternity he'll be.
For his journey into the dust will be painful.
Left behind, we suffer, and in grief we sleep."

Do you want me to believe that your fear points towards me
Only I know what is true, it is me who is in anger
You once told me that life is just a screen,
something greater than a man will ever know.

"Like all days in his life, today he's among us.
Let him into your heart, to be forever with us.
Gain strength from his presence, and never forget:
Remember all our days with him, as in us he'll be undying."

The torment can never be stopped
Your blackened blood stains my hands
You claim to have murdered your own soul
And now you've come back for me

Take your own guilt back with you
Into the dust where shadows live
It is not my time to go
You must go back to your hell

Joris van den Heuvel, November 25 1996

Last Grain

In times of an everlasting silent conflict
Blindness infects all authorities
The story's without fire or fight
The end will only be a split second

Tears of a child awaiting its future
Pour into the cup of blame
Will she bleed for our blindness
At least she knows: no winners, no losers, just
The end

Time of silent war
Resonance of blindness
Silence's dishonour
A split second

Last grain of sand
Vaporized, fallen
The hour-glass of man
A liquid glass wasteland

Conflicts that will never be solved
Blindness is the common sense
Demise is nobody's companion
And the end is only a question of goodwill

Tears of a child awaiting its future
Pour into the cup of blame
Will she bleed for our blindness
At least she knows: no winners, no losers, just
The end

Joris van den Heuvel, June 1996

Minstrel's Wind

Onto the flowerless field
The mourning man, he kneeled
Where all his life, he
Never wished to be...

And with hands as shaky as his spirit
The baffled bard reached for pen and paper
And he told them to be the help for
His own monody

His life and all the thoughts he'd ever had
He trusted them to that tiny paper
Never had it been this easy
He just had to dream to see

Roaming through the lore lands of the mind
Baring his soul and receptive feelings
In those yearning years he could not find
This overall view, this wirring sound of wings

But o so spiteful it was for him to see
He'd been lost, hurt and never been accepted
As a man, a lullaby soaked in agony
Dozens of dreary days the flight reflected

Though he brought laughter to children's faces
Spoke for the suppressed women's feelings
He always fled for their dads' and husbands' chases
Not understanding, but enjoying, shooting his wings

Yet he could not be a happier man
On that afternoon in the rock filled field
Relief was at that very moment when
He knew death broke through his shield

Hendrik Meerbeek, September 1996


Wounded, bleeding
Mistaken, guilty
We hide in the trenches
Created by our own hands

Perspective spilled in greed
We were unequaled
They sent us here
Into death's open arms

Never I expected
Mortality to come trailing
My life was full of life
Now they go and I

Must go with them
Towards the light
Into the brightness of
the enchanting monody

Joris van den Heuvel, April 24 1996

My Season

Sorrow shaped the shades
Dancing in the moon
The glancing of gloom
In twilight comes and fades

Loneliness, not human
Hollow is the emptiness
Still loneliness, harmony
Romance nevertheless

You drown in the depths of your depression
No one noticing you there
Look inside if you dare

For beauty is the reason
Dark autumn is my season

Crying its ways to forgottenness
Laughing its ways into rottenness

Hendrik Meerbeek

A Quest for Rest

A tortured soul seeks for relief, and questions the moment of birth and the shape it had at that very moment. Purity it once must have been. Now, as the soul is poisoned, it only wants to be set free.

Snow covers my memory
Try to capture first reality
Start of time, when was it?
What were the contents of the true spirit

Reaching out with both hands
As my soul is full of grief
Crying loud in anger
Because my visions do deceive

Try and find certainty
And you'll only find a dream
you hope for immortality
In fear of death you scream

All I want is let my soul free

Questions keep coming as the sun already sets
My mind is like a city, but I don't have the maps
Of only curiousity - I'd rather die now
As we all lie - we'll all die! All...

Can hardly wait, so sad
In society's eyes I've gone mad

Let me be as I was before I lived or after I've died
Fun, joy.... it all comes back with pain
Wish I was childlike - insane
The relief as I step out of life

I call upon the spirit, force at all
Anything to let my soul go free

Hendrik Meerbeek, September 1996


In our rich orchard
that's where the story began
she played as always
all by herself, alone in the sun

but where has the sun gone?
it disappeared with our child

water kept falling
from rainclouds above
feeding the dirtgrounds
on mountains abroad

who could foresee then
the earth sliding downwards
this swollowing mass
that wasted our woods

the fear she has felt
I cannot imagine
nor can I feel
the pain when it struck
you couldn't count
the tears her loss brought

the orchard grew back
more fruitful it had ever been
and only just once
my lady our girl had seen

her face had grown old
and she laughed real mean
it was the night
before my wife ceased

the relief she has felt
it was misleading
for the next day
the raingods were leading (again)
you couldn't count
the tears her loss brought

the sun rose again
but the orchard was buried
my tears will die, when
you appear and we meet

Hendrik Meerbeek

Short Escape

An exaggerated and cliché story (not a lesson!) about our attempts to escape reality by (ab)using alcohol and drugs and about reality itself. Strangely enough both the use of alcohol/drugs and reality itself can put you to the ground, but they are also to give you (a bit of) happiness... if you know your ways with them.


Go dance the groove
The joy is yours
You're on the move
The music roars

A beer or ten
And lots women
You could all desire
With a joint on fire

Yeah dance the groove
Feet off the floor
I like your moves
That's what music's for

No wonder why
You're in the sky

Your conscience is drifting
Your spirit is lifting
Mega heartbeat increase
Fabulous fantasies
Never felt like this - never before
You just want more - and more and more and more


You're deep in debts
Your father beats you
Your mother is ill
You have a pregnant wife

The crashing planes
The sinking ships
Chemical wastelands
Environment disasters

You screw your life
Your car broke down again
No-one knows you
You're misunderstood

The "holy" wars
People starving
Arrogance, agression
Will it ever end?


Hendrik Meerbeek, September 1996


The century of ire
Knights of steel androids
Fields and streets are paved
with the shells of our souls
Can't look at tomorrow,
for today discharges
with rage and it fills me
with fear of what will come

Living underground
Hiding from the nerve gas
Graveyards like cities
Cities like graveyards
Hi-tech massacre
Will be the only truth
Humanity will perish
By its own technology

Their not being biologic will be in their favour
Not subject to failure for computers never fail
Viral war will be our most likely ambuscade
There'll be no more freedom not of speech or mind
Ineffective symbiosis leads to mistakes
Of mounting weapons onto the limbs of machines
Burning cities will be all that's left to see
When the cyber-minded fusion-powered start to think

Joris van den Heuvel, March 22, 1996


An attempt to explain why mankind has the unstoppable urge to kill itself, just for having different thoughts or having another skin colour. The last sentence is interpretable in two ways. The "we" refers to the person who tells the story, as well as to mankind itself.

As nature evolved
mankind was created
The beast was defeated
another arose
A destructive species
doomed to prevail

They made up devils and gods
to justify all crimes
It's we who kill, not them
It's we who hand the scythe
that cuts off the strings
Disconnect man from me

The centre of me
a twisted image
of cold pale winters
The cold stills all
what is left of me
thoughts and flashes

We all were created equal
a killer in all of us
Nature was wrong
implanted us with hate
The need and urge to rule
We will correct her error

Joris van den Heuvel, December 12 1995

Winter's Entry

Grief filled me from inside
As i cast my weary eye
upon these falling leaves
from that single tree in sight

they seem to fall forever
as the wind whispers them further
away... I can't reach

although at first this falling seemed endless
by now all leaves lay on the ground
upon eachother... ready to rot with me

nature's last scream
before the dissappearence of life
but I don't scream
as I throw myself from flat five

Hendrik Meerbeek

Zanetti's bar

Monody live photo

Zanetti's bar

Monody live photo

Zanetti's bar

Monody live photo

Zanetti's bar

Monody live photo

Zanetti's bar

Monody live photo

Zanetti's bar

Monody live photo