Practical Applications Of Theurgy

by A Cunning Man

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Practical Applications Of Theurgy is the debut EP of A Cunning Man.

A Cunning Man is a one man metal project that explores occult themes and utilises a strong Scottish accent.


released January 1, 2017

Ged Cartwright - Vocals, instrumentation and programming
Gemma McCabe - Additional vocals and spoken word

Recorded, produced and mixed by Ged Cartwright
Mastered by Jonny Renshaw at Bandit Studios

Cover art by Gordon Crawford
A Cunning Man logo by Luciferium War Graphics
Promotional material by Stuart Campbell



all rights reserved


A Cunning Man Scotland, UK

One man metal project with a strong Scottish accent.

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Track Name: Honorius & The Choral Forecast
Dreams, clinging to these sheets through fevers oh so forceful,
It cloys in spite of sigils round my neck,
These visions come from figures starched and copper,
Their words a harsh duet.

A holy cacophony,
The Sulfur sings...

Dimmest spark,
Pull your weight,
A Choral Forecast;
Calls alate.

Tended spark,
Cause a clash,
The Choral Forecast chants:
‘Become the itch to life's ash’

Cloaked in linen, sufficient, the fair theurgist,
Though these hooded features appear soft, they belie a knowledge hardest fought,
My powers known to many!

A god blessed logo, protects my figure,
The need for self-improvement, a dull light lingers,
A repertoire of salted psalms, whitest whispers.

Holy cacophony,
The Sulfur’s singing goes on and on…


Tears fall from eyes,
Urging for strength,
Bearing such a piercing pressure,
Haunted by an immense measure.

Save me…

Crushed, unearthly potence,
Feel the dread scorch blasting me,
I'm unstitched, a shattered gleam.

Save me…

So they stand, showing me, what could be,
Holy cacophony, the Sulfur sings…


Sparks, can lead the way,
Sparks, when ignited clash to lead the way.
Track Name: Cyprian & The Ambergris Geist
Doorstep, familiar scene,
Deathly quiet and serene,
It seems that this is up to me,
Orphic mind, much maligned,
Is yet the key,
Hermetic key,
It's up to me…

The shadows fold and fade away,
It's her virtue, not my surging power,
Frozen eyes, stare in dismay,
Promised nurture, different kind of power.

It's explained she is a Seeress,
And my coming has been known,
But her honed powers are peerless,
The curse is hers and hers alone,
Must you do this on your own?

The room it twists,
Then nothing,
Whispers insist,
Yet no one's there.


Words and Wise wits,
Set mankind apart,
Learned Logos,
Bides in our heart.

Her conviction quickly daunted,
Heavy perfume knocks me prone,
The home and holdings aren't what's haunted,
It's her that's cursed and her alone,
She can't quite do this on her own.

We draw the signs,
It's something,
Our chanting chimes,
Is someone there?

To understand,
To hold command,
To stand in the unknown


All mighty snap,
A deepest black,
Dark perfume flows,
You'll let her go!


In our hearts.
Track Name: Juratus & The Sulfur Psalm

Where streets once stood, a panicked mood, reduced to rubble,
The Geist’s contented shadow, gorged itself and grew,
Half the town gone, they shriek and mourn, a crater…

Some grieve for the lost ones, ‘I got here too late’,
Others try to outrun, ‘got here much too late’,
I've never felt so outdone, ‘always far too late’,
Dead numbers grow, body moves on its own.

So I stand and straighten my coat,
Uttering countless barbarous names,
My hands reach out to touch them,
I channel through the pain.

Prose is slowed,
Yet the ego knows and exclaims,
Shared unconsciousness borrowed,
Bright transcendence glows,
Thus the ego knows,
The Sulfur solo.

So breathless,
So awestruck,
That beast impervious to my words,
The Geist so strongly scented, mocks my every move,
As the unshackled Seeress weakens and fades from my view,

Unknown tunes,
Fill the vibrating air.
My mind drifts, a place of strength,
‘Won't be late again’,
Nostalgic tone on the tip of my tongue, I begin to hum.

Its unyielding form, gradually torn.


Contagious, oh the Sulfur Psalm spreads,
Mouth to ear, ear to mind,
The crowd, they chant, a song borne from their soul.

That musty shroud, it must unfold...


The words and melody resonating in the air:
A psalm! Not of the heavens but from deep within the earth.
By pure intituition the hymn is intoned by each trembling lip and
a feeling of blissful nostalgia washes over all.
We've known this cantrip by heart, long before even our births.
His hand withers in sympathy and amplifies the unison,
Sing, the Sulfur Psalm!

Onlookers eyes now filled with fire,
They sing a verse older than time,
My left hand conducts them like choir,
The Geist wilts and shifts to brine.


There are somethings in this world which transcend statement,
Pure instinct,
Our words can move but they'll only take us just so far.
So far.