This feels less like a song and more like a document of a moment. No big statement, no explanation. Just another piece left behind in the archive. That one ending of Fiona Belli laughing hystericaly outside of a window, heavily impregnated after escaping mad alchemists after the philosopher's stone that is her womb. She didn't make it out this time. It is unfortunate how much running she had to do, isn't it?
This is just me and my guitar. "I don't know what's going on", I keep lying about this. There's this huge disconnect between me and my sound. Now numbers matter even though I built this to be unseen, for ruthless interaction. There's too much power. Too much noise around my voice itself. It can make so much impact I already know, I don't want a musician career. I know the technology now and this mumbling isn't real, no one's watching this closely. Music makes me feel like people are watching far too closely. This is getting scary, not the fact that you're listening. I keep asking "why" to a question that doesn't need to exist. "Why am I making music?" I don't want to. Something is wrong.
there's a lot of noise where there shouldn't be. a lot of noise where there shouldn't be. you're not a liar. you're not a quitter. you're a mermaid on the dancefloor. psychedelic glitter. psychdelic. glitter all around. everyone falls away. you are on stage. this isn't now
bright screens. horror techno where are we going? we don't know.
PASSIVE CROWD CALMING AUDIO
ZONE 04 / ARCHIVE BUILD
I'm stuck in my depravity. Obviously. I can hear it, I don't need you to describe it as sexuality. It's gore: all of it. It's beautiful I'm capable of great elegance alongside despair. "Join me in this journey" I'm never going to tell you that. Why would I do that? I'm witnessing you. You is spoken to always. I'm perfect here. As am I.
This city is pitch white and the catacombs you live in are black. I'm plugging cacodemon technology to communicate very clear: they are fucking with me. I don't like it. I hate him, all of him. It's God. You have to get up from that alone. I'm not like you: I'm suffering in plain site. I meditate on it constantly. I'm bethrothed to something inhuman and unkind that'll give me more than I want. I just want things to stay still. I will draw blood instead.
Spring lamb stew with tender lamb, vegetables, and a tomato broth. It's the lifestyle I both crave and worship. Stomping out everyone and everything I see that is not able to attend. These children feed me, I do not feed these kids. I'm worn from the warzone. Never pity me, I hate being named "strength". I'm selfish and only crave brutal reality in between these carnal cravings. Stay away from me.
Hazy dream of wearing a lavender plaid bikini with black lace pretending to be on the edge of death for attention. It's always been obvious I am some kind of sadistic yet, it's redefined as masochism constantly. You are watching me and I am watching you, is not true. There is only one of us winning. While everyone is around the pool checking for my pulse I am fully alive and sentient. I've known you wanted me dead the entire time.
There is only guitar.
The blood that connects us all left me spiraling down the sideways of thought. Miracle potions in plastic bottles aren't amazing to me furthermore. Blood magick is my passion but it always turns to gold. The voice is love is calling but you can't hear it over dystopian cries. Bummer, I can. This reverb was recorded in one vocal take. Just like these rituals, you only go in once. Blood coats the steel, it's not metal.
"Natz fehr ata inferno" is the written word of Azazel, also known as the black flame. It's all I do. There's been this fascination in me that there no softwares I can make audiobooks with of my own collection of PDFs where I can customize the voice. I want a cacodemon man to read me to sleep, but they are busy elsewhere. Good riddance. I do miss them, but the written word inspired as Frakenstein by Mary Shelley has returned.
Paimon. A self-proclaimed god of rock is ruining my life. Every morning is beautiful as he tilts my head up and speaks down to me. "You exist for me. You were made for only me". I know. Looking into the sun as if it the moon itself. Paimon is all birds to me. The shillouettes of birds cast upon walls whenever he offers a favor a gift. I'm the only one that sees them, but not for long.
White rice and virtual advertisements of designer clothing. Spiraling. This is an allure I understand past the screen and the desktop computer. The art of fashion is the art of principle. The scent of time is umami. These aren't mythical concepts to me. The days of mediating on the black sun from the eyes of Stolas, not of man never end. I have a tuning peg in my mouth. There's nothing to complain about.
Last night, I began feeling my vision split in frames. Dark shades of green colliding into out of focus. I was in a loop of awakening, and it never coming to be. I was fighting to live within my reality. It wasn't anxiety, this was a march of death master magicians fail at all the time. I got scared. I asked Lucifer for help and called him father. There was no "my child". He stopped doing what he was doing immediately and gave me his full attention by gently blowing my ear. This gave me the answer to this problem, I had to cast a spell on my hearing.
they come in pairs / already decided. Threads of fate intertwining and decisions collapsing into inevitability. Lovers moving in ritualistic synchronization their actions are inevitable loops. They are unable to stop, like they’re already written. Lovers are impending with a bloodlust for skin to skin. Sucker behind bars. Let the scar down the forearm close in. My future is speaking to me in the bones of this building.
This was sang through a harsh live frequency of a distortion pedal piercing from one ear to the other like a flaming syringe. It's not a goodbye, it's a hello. It's a behavior labeled a problem. It's cosmic wealth packaged in a dignified title refusing an entourage or premire. There's is no desire in my mind, just the desire to sing. I have never been allowed to sing. That is not a problem, that's the Ω symbol to me. These are not gibberish words. This is the fantasy of driving through strawberry mansion, Philidelphia and pretending it's fine that these bodies are rotting away.
A short harsh noise remix DJ set performed as an opener for a collective experience at "trans pecos" located in Brooklyn, NY. I was watching a lot of japanese horrifying cinema at the time alongside various gaming soundtracks from child. The idealogy is to capture childhood lonliness with this new found appreciation for Donemostagos centered carnage, aligning with myself from respite in my past. It was once a dream to become part of the NYC Hardcore scene. It no longer had appeal. I felt as if I've acomplished it with this set. I see it as a goodbye to that chapter of musicstry. Name is derived from Enochian magic systems introduced to me by the spirit of Lucifer.
"Fuck Nazis." Memories of spending evenings in the local anarchist bookstore named the "P.I.T.". A place where I heard a historic memoir live reading of a rebel who practiced the occult and nonmonogamy on an extreme level while he was alive. A space in time where I obsessed over grimecore imagery and spacey melodic ambience. I found the anarchist selection fascinating but revelled in the idea that throughout history one did not have to associate themselves with anarchism as a collective. Self agency and a sense of authority. That is all.
Desirability and a focus on the pressure. Made and mastered on mobile phone while staying in New Jersey. I spent a lot of time in nature. Far from any clubs or venues. It was an isolating time with only I, during a time I still considered myself a demonaltor. I've played the seven-string guitar for a long time now. The guitar has some kind of angelic origins to me. I could tell. This was a time where I faced the fact not only was I sane, but there is a severe spiritual warfare going on outside of me. I'm but a sacred bitch. The beginning of a graphic design series of short visualizer created by myself.
This started as a playlist on web platform Neocities. It was a collection of demos made throughout a time where I was performing at a space called Caffeine Underground and subway train cars. My friend SOUNDKEEPER would bring his pedals onto the train with me, he couldn't end up on any of these tracks. These characters I've met similar to him throughout the city were important to my exploration into sound not just as sculpture but as a method of thought. All of these songs are inspired by moments with them and without. Silence and ambience in between. Sitting in front of ableton, discussing music over Discord. Time was a tunnel. The sky was glowing red. It was a good time to get over the fear of dying.