Saturday, April 25, 2009
Passionate corruption – the sensation conjures incinerated irregular Sentinels. Dissent to foul restriction; approach with Caution the daunting pleasing fragments of lust inspired movements into myopic creation. An icy vein of suspension moves in me. Night access hallucinations illustrate Conception as an initiative influence of grey nothing. Willful, even if idiosyncratic artifice deems otherwise, you create a counteractive complex with an artist’s passion. The extractions of magnificence Interweave and metamorphose in the isolation on the strength of opinion.
Your intercession reinforces incisive prohibitions, though you tolerate how the revealed masses of the faithful establish your manifest righteousness. All the thought of a lifetime with no conscious evolution, One cannot recall where it began to slide. Stirring the spirit, Transitional colorless and uncompromisingly intent Organizations approach Regulations designed for illumination. Don’t mention it to the whispering dead. Outside attendance is not in the soul’s possession.
We lie side by side, blowing sparks, gazing into the screaming silence. Splinter delegations to trepidation drive automatons out on masses to merit their endurance. Truth be told, trust is never to be shown. Habit takes instruction from surfeit regard gone in the rush of outworn relics collapse. Borne away on seas of sound I cry out. The bitter realization contains the happy seed: yes, me. Position exposed on a great, cold, ardent bed. You are absent from your own convictions, your state of bemusement, the suppression of blood connections to coerce compliance in advance of your loathing. Furthermore the unremarkable drones’ first abundant surge survives through weakness, as the demonstration with poisonous error anticipated your insignificant ill-use of kindness. Corrode and engulf what went before. I am beginning a new direction of outwardly flowing disdainful, sustaining wisdom. Clothed in thorns, your throat is dry.
Friday, April 24, 2009
My fine colleagues at Alterati.com let me hijack the show and with the help of James Curcio and Anna Young, what you can hear here was dramatized:
This unique episode takes you through a number of open-ended tales, told by the voices of a schizophrenic internal monologue. It can be taken as the voices in the mind of a sleeper, on the brink of sleep, or a mental patient, strapped into a bed in a moldy room in an asylum. Maybe these events happened, or have yet to happen. That’s for you to decide.
In addition to your loving host, this show features the voice acting talents of P. Emerson Williams and Anna Young, and the music includes much atmospheric material from Veil of Thorns and Ariana van Gelder.
Strap yourself in, put on the headphones, and enjoy the show.
Awaken, you’re still dreaming, unformed, immaculate, sanctified with impoverished yearning. Liberate yourself from sleep into the sanctuary of our defeat. Articulate to me of lamentation. I take pleasure in the aggravation; you are confined in your responsibility now that Sanity has departed, exhausted, abstract and unintelligible. I did not survive, though I act markedly responsive. A quiet current of impressions soothe my astringent psyche on my ruptured innate humanity. Wailing by the window in the grief of the proud, dread failings wrapped around us like shrouds.
I am forewarned. Curtains part automatically as the alarm fades into the voice. The bumps have grown overnight, my eyes burn appropriately and my back can feel the effects of the concrete slab I passed out on. The silk clings uncomfortably to my skin. I have it only because I need to feel my success. I feel the heaving all through my membrane, longing for my ascent. The voice is still there, chiming with increasingly ravaged tones. That querulous reprimand ringing in the background is my happy reminder of the failure of those outside my worldview.
Compelled to rally the dying, to take hold of an experience of disconnect, you direct your fragmented, cruel intellect at the division of ages into isolated headland. Scattered throughout the wary reverse of your former stance, subordinate classes are allowed to survive as long as the workforce is needed. Plant unmoved convictions in attendance in edifices of decline continue to exist. Social formations move about to subdue distress in all deference to convention. By indeterminate providence, the surveillance division has mastered the practice of avoiding confrontation. Shudder behind your beloved audience with a display of your improbable disarming paroxysm. I embrace obscurity, disordered ride out downward. Investigate in another place in the subjugation disclosed. I envisage manifest points in time to sustain this fitful refuge.
The haints come with parched, red grins, destined, flowing; glutted. The rotting populace Illustrates rebirth in my pleasure facility, breaking off a Conflagration advanced from opening the event within the scope of reason. The thoughts drift to the surface as I shake off the dream. I shouldn’t try to tell you about it. I’m living from two perspectives at once. I’m one point of consciousness in two places. Two worlds remain separate while the actions in one shape experience in the other. The voice in this universe screams itself hoarse, haranguing the mind of the active, dynamic mind in the other one. Funny how the one that hears voices acts with gloating hubris.
I find myself lying under the highway to bring about coerced elite. You’ll see. Thrash it out amongst yourselves as you flail about in an indistinctive objective that has no emotional impact, barring the superficial ripples from a staged interface drama. Now, consider a passing look outward. Send down mutually supporting actions from your central board room. Organization evaporates progressively false conceptions to resolve into extended control. One added instance, let’s heed the worn down and pull out our ecstasy like gaping arteries.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
The mixes are my usual thick and resonating things, as they were before I sent them off to the masterful mastering of Ari. Contents need to be decanted as they may throw off a sediment....
The image is the gateway to the file, and the player below starts the stream.
Artist/Composer: Veil of Thorns
Keywords: goth; experimental; Veil of Thorns; deathrock; gothic; dark; music
Creative Commons license: Attribution-NonCommercial
|VeilofThornsVeilOfThorns-CognigtiveDissonanceV_64kb_mp3.zip||64Kbps MP3 ZIP||13 MB|
|VeilofThornsVeilOfThorns-CognigtiveDissonanceV_vbr_mp3.zip||VBR ZIP||39 MB|
|Audio Files||192Kbps MP3||Ogg Vorbis||64Kbps MP3||VBR MP3|
|V-CC-T-V.mp3||40 MB||24 MB||13 MB||39 MB|
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Read the full article here.
On the Veil of Thorns front, we have decided to show our support by releasing the full Veil of Thorns back catalogue as a torrent on the Pirate Bay site. We would appreciate it if everyone reading this would download the torrent, seed it for as long as you can to keep it alive and pass the torrent along. If you have a music blog, it would be lovely if you'd post any of these releases with links back to us, to the statement on kkoagublogg and weigh in with your own thoughts.
I would love to get a conversation going about every aspect of this issue. We're all in flux, and creativity in all things is needed more than ever.
More Cognitive Dissonance Transmissions coming later.
There is a thought that occurs to me as I drive past the many gated communities in this ritzy area of Florida. I'm glad the real estate speculators, Disney executives and yuppies are walled in and kept safely from the rest of us. We just need to lock the gates from the outside. I would love to see the major labels and movie studios come up with the perfect impregnable DRM, so they can be left to rot within their walled gardens.
This time is the best possible opportunity for true artists to get creative with ways to make a living. Under the old label system, it was mainly the few, the malleable, the aspirational among artists who benefitted. The RIAA argument that piracy hinders artists from making a living is bollocks. Music has always been a hard gig, it's just that now the majority are on the treadmill of writing, production, release and touring for themselves instead of a group of suits who lend them cash in return for the artists indenture.
This torrent was created to show dissent with the ruling, and in the spirit of freedom, that creative chaos which hidebound institutions fight with the impulse for stasis and death.
-P. Emerson Williams
In the Space Between Space
P. Emerson Williams – (Choronzon, Network, Nocturne, Voyager, Lead Reign) - Vocals, Guitar, bass, cello, keyboards, programming
James Curcio – (Babalon, subQtaneous) – Drums
Ruddy Bitch – Drums, Electronic Soundwaves, percussive Manipulations
Catherine Chenoweth – (Smack Tan Blue) – Bass
Jarrett Laitinen – (Twentytwo Fourties) – Guitar
Peter Wagner - Violin
Christopher McClain – (Theatre, Cheryl's Twitching Limbs, Amateur Bondage, Byzantine Slave Drug, Perma-Grin) - Bass, keys, sequencing, programming
Demo 1991 – Cassette – Remastered 2008
Study In Decay Demo – Cassette - 1992
Legemet Og Stemmen Demo – Cassette - 1993
Lust Beyond Flesh 7» ep - 1994
Cafe Flesh CD - 2002
Birthed CD – 2002/2006
Legemet Og Stemmen Demo Remastered CD - 2006
Manifestation Objective CDR/Online Release - 2005 – Remastered Edition + Bonus Tracks 2009
Cognitive Dissonance CD – 2007
The End of the Beginning – First album sessions 1992 – Remastered 2008
The Dead God Sessions CD – Second lineup album sessions 1996 – Remastered 2008
Live WMFO 1991 – Fall 2008
Live Halloween 1992 WMFO – Fall 2008
Bats in the Belfry 1994 Live – Fall 2008
Salon Apocalypse - Winter, 2009
The book will be out in the Summer of this year so if you know there’ll be a release, with title, for late 2008 release please include that.
mythosmedia.net - Label
alterati.com/blog – James Curcio, Managing Editor, P. Emerson Williams, contributor
Initially the intention was to play dark Jazz with electronic/industrial and orchestral elements. This vision has yet to be realized, obviously. The world of Jazz rejoices.
Download Torrent At The Pirate Bay
Celebrate this day our irredeemable sins. Languishing conception in the Rusting Valley lays a soul down in a Chamber of flesh warm in its decaying afterglow. Jade transmissions terminate ahead through vague horrors now behind, left to you to build upon. Manifestation Objective Soul fire kisses, a hapless passion upon the pulse of the altars of madness. Learn to love the crack of the lash. Well-matched professionals fall back and chamber the charge. Exaltation in Ascendancy Weeping alight, Drawn in too tight Warnings too late are told in our plight.
I still feel the touch of the nocturnal breeze. The uncharacteristic outcome of the passion is forsaken on favour of the masquerade and the ailing forest loses colour. Chambers full, envy and returns distorted on the sharp edge advance changes design. As all hope Crashed down, we could not help but laugh. That firestorm of dead beginnings shatters Hunger for authority, the arrest of distillation. Desire meets surrender in conduct without conclusion. As unsound processions are left in the past, never to be conjured up, misfortune stirs the spirit. Join every part of the blare of a vacant psyche Controlled by dead gratification suspension and Delusions of excitement. Nonentities call for emphatic confusion, Refusal retains security in the righteous arrangement Positioned to go further over ardour without indecision.
We seem to count on forever; one automatic pull on the lever. A resolved austerity revelation Wears away and devours our advantage. Wrapped around our epoch this moment abrades their moldering infections. Move on by in disgust, Slink through the shadows of infinitude. The lustrous suspension of fevered tactics keeps your mind on the draining laceration. We reflect the unreciprocated concern. Nothing left of restlessness, no lies. We dance victorious on our aching bloody feet. I fall and am safe. The fall eliminates the life that was. Visions shall lie, telling of the fear of death. You shall command masses in a way most Innovative without loss of perception. For all I love I give you this and am no more. Blown like glass where lunacy comforts. Laughter shall erase this carnage of thought. My Inner Sanctum In a shaded doorway Watching the spirits at play, Through a cracked and shimmering window to the world; Through my surprise, welling up in my eyes: Your soul; Bleeding, Clinging to the face of the forest, old; a deep well of love: Sepulchral, cold. Thought shall inaugurate the fall of fear. On the approach of your fame initiated onward in righteousness, your soul’s erosion winds down, pointless, expressionless and clothed in ornamentation.