The Void, Azathoth, Nyarlathotep, Yog-Sothoth, Kaotic Multi-Verse, Ambient, Industrial, Dark Drum and Base, Psytrance, Tribal, Throbbing Gritsle, COIL, Skinny Puppy, Dead Voices on Air, Not Breathing, Nurse with wound, Sleep Chamber, Future Sound of London, Crickets, Frogs, Cicadas, Thunder/Lighting, Random Noise, the Static...
Sounds Like
The Void, Azathoth, Nyarlathotep, Yog-Sothoth, Kaotic Multi-Verse, Ambient, Industrial, Dark Drum and Base, Psytrance, Tribal, Throbbing Gritsle, COIL, Skinny Puppy, Dead Voices on Air, Not Breathing, Nurse with wound, Sleep Chamber, Crickets, Frogs, Cicadas, Fire/Water, Thunder/Lighting, Random Noise, the Static...
I/We begain az a child in Rome, GA, babbling to myself, banging on pots and pans, and collecting childerns noise makers, and later would pull away from my mother to play with the cheep keyboards on display in the local department stores. As an early teen expirimented with messing with the wiring on various radios, TVs, backmasking and causing records to skip ect... Az a late teen I discovered "Expirimental, Industrial muzak" and proceeded to make my own expiriments "Nigga-Rigging" up various devices to make improvised noises natural/electronic, glitches and dubbing them together from Channelings of various states ov mind, times and occations to this day... Iv expirimented with running my noises over the Phone lines, Cell, CB Radios, Analog TV static and now the Web... These are the raw improvised and unedited recordingz. AzAtEk iz open to collaborations with other artist and Re-mixes. AzAtEk is still in a Process ov Becoming...
~Messenger/Grand No-Master, AzOtEp.*.
.. Visit Cult ov Crawling Chaos
The cold dark night, it feels so warm She can not fight, my hungerstorm Lightning flashes, accross the sky It burns to ashes, do not ask why I lust for carniage, and for flame My bloodlusts carriage,knows no shame Fathers blood burns,searing my veins My death lust churns,free of it's chains Red hot simmering,sweet taste of pain Blood chrystals shimmering,like the reign Red and rich, warm tasty and wet I eat the bitch,without any regret Adrenelines spice,on my toung it doth tingle I savor it twice,tasting fear and blood mingle
among these decimated villages upon this headland naked to the south wind with the trail of mountains before us, hiding you, Who will reckon up our decision to forget? Who will accept our offering at this end of autumn? -George Seferis
