Sunday, November 29, 2020

Veil of Thorns - Dosage (2018) [Full Album]





01. Respired Into Being 
02. Sacred Offering
03. The Spirit Resolves, Infinite 
04. Dosage 
05. Dead Shadow Sunset Mirth Offering  
06. Technique Of Desire 
07. Old Leech 
08. Dreamless Heaven 
09. Clear Eyes, Pure Heart 
10. Abyss God Infestation (Secrets) 
11. Down Here With Us, Inside 
12. The Pre-Tested Systems Rebels 
13. MK-INFRA 
14. The Snafu Principle

In a society racing towards oblivion, its machinic egregoreplex advances control processes that are ultimately futile. The psyche breaks down under the strain and reconfigures as a medium for an alien intelligence. The demonic is a manifestation of future shadow selves transmitted from down the darkest timeline. Society shapes itself to bring this potential into being. 

)+( )+( )+( 

A sacred ritual unspeakably reproduces revelation, The business experiment of Cultural starvation, a system collective treatment root and wallow. Thinking system defined by which World it followed. A maze of phenomena people and the hardware writings race multidimensional witch-hunter quantum collusions in Space. Collapsed ideas conclusion fabricated gullibility parallels inhuman self-delusion of Science Cult system in which hyperstition dwells. 

This capsule of toxins can Work unseen change. 

Para-abnormal Realms in ancient books deceive which senses escalating the subject becoming reality. Beyond revolution image hackers proved application delusion. Others repurpose whatever escape penetrate organs of world demons 

This is Association Myth Theory commodifies the apocalyptic Creative force M-KULT RA speculation, commercialization of the Mythic. Mystic Body Science Energy through the wanted Repression of this spell in a cultic observation of the accusation. 

the Radiation fluids of God pollution 
ruination marketed Genocide invocation 
PURITY Well is Cultural crazy 
but purity just questions a ceremony 
credits
released April 30, 2018 

Aidan McGoran - Guitars 
P. Emerson Williams - Vox, Guitars, bass, synth, cello 
Ruddy Bitch - Drums 

Mark Cunningham - trumpet on Dead Shadow Sunset Mirth Offering 
Cern.Th.Skei - programming, keys, bass on Dead Shadow Sunset Mirth Offering 
Anna Murphy - Vox on Dead Shadow Sunset Mirth Offering

Friday, November 6, 2020

Out today: Venerating Skin by Veil of Thorns

VEIL OF THORNS BRINGS THE SOUNDTRACK FOR THE NECROFUTURE WITH VENERATING SKIN

It is the long standing habit of Veil of Thorns to gaze into the abyss of the human psyche until the Abyss imparts its secrets out through their sonic art. Venerating Skin shows how P. Emerson Williams and his community of Necrofuturists will spend the oncoming apocalypse, weaving the chaos of collapse into visions of art.

Concluding a cycle born of meditations on creative consciousness dissolution, desert landscapes and reaching the point where sanity no longer serves one, Venerating Skin comes forth like a transmission of cataclysm endured.

Revolution noise dissolves into static, static into the sight of the flashing, blinding light that weaves into your particles and carries them off into the cold void. The succession of images that gave the illusion of movement go up in an instant. That spark that lit them was the only thing ever to illuminate them.

After the inferno, the ever-lasting cold.

About Veil of Thorns:

Veil of Thorns is an ever evolving concept born of the fevered brain of P. Emerson Williams. Among the growing list of collaborators one can find authors, actors and musicians of many genres, reflecting the scope of what P. Emerson Williams calls Necrofuturist art.

Veil Of Thorns are beyond anything you have experienced and combines so much to make quite a unique sound. - Culture Asylum Magazine

Just when you have become used to experiencing your guitar stimulants, your ethereal relaxants, your electronic placebo, along comes Doctor Thorns, like a knight in deliberately ill-fitting armour and bellows ‘No more!’ causing all patients to fall from their beds. Where a lot of old-school Industrialists make deliberately obscure, ugly amateurish trash and new Industrialists churn out whatever club-friendly sounds they hope will land them a big record deal, there are some artists wading sternly through the same muddy waters with more artistic sensibilities. Veil Of Thorns may make threatening music but it is not without gentler asides, and often presents itself in alluring form. - Mick Mercer 

credits

released November 6, 2020

Aidan McGoran - Guitars

P. Emerson Williams - Vox, Guitars, bass, synth, cello

Ruddy Bitch – Drums

Thursday, November 5, 2020

Choronzon - Walk in the Eternity Where All Your Dissipated Dreams Shock


The end came and nobody noticed. No bangs or whimpers; not a ripple. The souls of the faithful were swept up to their reward, leaving a mass of aimless, fearful husks behind. They too did not notice what had happened. Their essence was shredded and consumed by the ghost they’d created over generations. To the faithless, the shells of the faithful seemed to be much the same, perhaps there was a bit more of an air of desperation, but it was hard to quantify.

The wrecks could be seen, though nobody ever noticed them, their vehicles, perfect in their shine, cell phones always at their ear, or seemingly talking to themselves with their earpieces in. They were but characters in a nightmare being experienced by a drunk lying on a street in a parallel universe. He wondered in his sleep who could possibly want to listen to these vile, empty vessels for hours on end.

A poison in his gut twisted at his insides, so he shifted in his stupor. A wave engulfed a small nation. A war dragged on in an arid and hot part of the globe. Death-squads wandered through the surrounding streets. They knew who he was and wished to separate this pole axed creator and the world he’d dreamt up. If they could bring it into a separate existence they could colonize it, for it already contained a population of perfect slaves.

The light was going out of both worlds, fading into entropic languor. The end became boring centuries before it saw fit to happen. As usual the promised spectacle failed to entrance. Audience participation was necessary to pull off the trick, but the illusion could not be agreed on.

Gods were created, and though formed fully in the minds of humans, ruled in unquestioned tyranny. Every one was dead by the end, though they had never lived. They had been brought into existence by human thought and feeling, but had also pre-dated them. They survived the end and predated the beginning. None of them were real.

The death-squad smelled blood. They didn’t know the reason for their hunt, nor question it. They’d play. They’d move. This set them apart. Blind rage was a tool to hide the futility of the search for meaning. They wanted the drunk for his self induced psychosis. Many were outside the fence, but didn’t matter any more than the billions of clones within the set limits. It was because he stopped participating, stopped talking about it and started to dream it. He would bring it all with him as he breathed his last.

People in the world being dreamed could sense their origin. Some fell into despair, some joined the stupefied creator in his habits, and others remade him in their parent’s image. Most had work to do and couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to nonsense. If the world was to end, they needed to redouble their efforts to get the project completed, the war won, the perfect partner found, the dog washed, the trash taken out. The quickening injected each action with a new urgency for a while, and then this urgency turned into despair, violence, hatred and finally apathy.

The dreamer coughed and a million press releases went out to announce the death of culture in the form of hundreds of talent-deprived young droids. Money shifted its tides in their direction. Perfect shiny vehicles blasted the news, rattling windows, killing conversation. A thousand college students died of alcohol poisoning.

Pale ghosts ran inside and barred the doors as the death-squad approached. They knew they weren’t being sought, but they also knew what it would mean to get in their way. The pale spirits vision would start to float and fray at the edges and dissolution unquestionably begin. The members of the squad could feel this too. They knew the dreamer was about to either wake up from his soul shredding trance or die, causing both worlds to be swept back into the nothingness from which it had come.

The light took on a grainy quality that could be felt, like a weak electric current, as the squad approached an alley shouting garbled curses. The buildings leaned in to get a better look and laughed. They could feel themselves melt into the pavement as they reached the corner, beyond which they’d never see.

)+( )+( )+( 


The silent stand aside, screaming. Seas of blood swirl around them in a storm of heat and clamor. Decomposition has many things to tell you, things that are crucial to your well-being, truths you have been seeking for generations. Sometimes you act like you can hear, but it loses all coherence at these moments. Sometimes your minds take the atmospheric gibbering and fit a pattern over it, creating seeming inspiration, giving their shouts the shape of stories.

released November 2, 2020

CHORONZON is a node and outlet for protracted rituals of oblique technomancy. This is in-your-face, explicitly damaged, disturbed, maniacal, frightening, psycho-schizo twisted and viciously tortured music, over-expanding itself to a point where it can get barely bearable.
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