Draggers

Just when things are starting to look up for you, be assured, there’ll be assholes of all kinds to drag you back to the shithole.

The best remedy for such draggers is to obliterate them, of course (no, just saying fuck off won’t work with these draggers). Nevertheless, it’s not that easy obliterating people nowadays. So, one might try an alternative: start a riot nearby the homes of those pain-in-the-ass ticks, and jump them in the commotion...

Nothing beats the shit fun of a rowdy, chaotic riot, and a bleeding dragger writhing in the asphalt. 

Kaos Asphalt Magick

Ego-trip Mirrors

Some people are so high on ego-trips they just can’t stop, until they’re in pieces. Like mirrors, waiting to be broken, these scumbags are not going to understand that the universe does not revolve around individual wants, until the universe smite them to smithereens..

Fuck, I do love seeing them fall and break apart. Nothing is sweeter than that looked of disenchantment, shock and pain.

Let them fall

Supermoon

When a big ass moon start rising from beyond the hills, and your head feels like a million squirming pulsating critters, hungry for blood, it’s a sure sign that weirdness shall come cascading from every corner of the night....

First taste of weirdness....

Is always the weirdest....

Until you get used to it....

Perfect Soundtrack

What would be the perfect soundtrack for a hate-filled, frustrating and nut-busting day? Back in the days, I would’ve settled for some Mayhem and Darkthrone stuffs, but that just not enough anymore.

Life, as it is, is just that much more stinky than it has always been, one simply need something a whole lot more rotten and rancid to soldier on...

Thank shit, some French degenerates have the sensibility to produce crushingly heavy, hate-inducing music (never mind the excessive images of nudity).

A must have for any clusterfuck days....like when you fail to finish off a bastard with your favorite axe down in the park last night... 

I’ll get you next time you fuck...

Fueling Hell

The absence of alcohol can really turn one’s thoughts into the most intriguing sophistry. Take the myth of the eternally burning pits of hell, for instance.

The first question to be pondered is surely how the fuck does it gets eternal like that? Is someone or something fueling the flames in that realm, or is there actually a blazing contraption there that continues to recycle the heat and the flames?

One story said it is fuelled by us, by our sins and transgressions, by every twat and dick fornicating beyond the sanctity of marriage, or slaughtering each other regardless of remorse.

Damn, those things do get my nerves all hot.

Maybe what my good ole favorite Czech musicians’ said is true after all, that we are the ones lighting and burning the flames over there.

Torch that realm here

Subtleties

I suppose this happens to anyone who has been listening to extreme underground music for quite a while: the sensitivity for subtle aspects within a musical work. It doesn’t matter how noisy or hard and heavy the music gets,  there are always other, subtle things that makes one feel comfortable with a certain musical work, or not.

It’s not how brutal, fast, technical or pompous one plays the music. It’s those other, seemingly trivial things that matters. 

It’s that feeling of real pain and hatred, oozing through each notes and vocalization. It’s also that foreboding atmosphere, like shadowy figures fleeting through the corner of an eye.

Those are the shits that matters, rather than a whole lot of pompous, superficial big mouthing, attires or images. Because you just can’t copy old wounds.

Sticky old wounds

Peace of Mind

How does one achieve a peace of mind? Maybe not through bar brawls, one night stands, speeding through a graveyard or any other adrenalin rush thingy.

Drowning in a bottle of bourbon might not be a good idea either. Can’t see a bottle of prescription medication helping out any better...

Someone told me a long while back that such a peace is an illusion. The main reason for that being the mind’s own tendency to be fragmented...Always switching from one thing to another, like a hamster on meth.

Peace of mind? Fuck that..it’ll always be pieces of a hyperactive fragmented mind. 

Mind in Fragments

Roller Coaster

It’s one thing to talk about death and to watch it creep up personally. The way a soul twist and turn in a roller coaster between here and there, is one of the most exquisite experience anyone could ever have.

Moribund, is not as unpleasant or as peaceful as one could have imagined. Particularly in the case of a sick and dying old soul...

Roller Coasting Out To Die

Nightmare Coaster

Watching troubled minds at sleep is always an intriguing pleasure. The way they twitch and turn and moan and scream, in reaction to the deepest recesses of their subconscious, makes one wonder what wonderful nightmare they might be roller coasting through.

It also makes one wonder, whether everyone share and recycle the same nightmare scenarios, like some generic typology or something?

Even more importantly, does everyone meet the same bloodied and white-dressed dame in the bathroom and dark corners? Does everybody then also proceeded into that sinister and fun coaster of chasing the bloody dame and running her to the ground with a steel hammer?

Chase that bloody dame

Graveyard Shift

I’ve always heard weird stories about graveyard shift. Tales of weird sounds and creepy whispers in the dark alleys of deserted buildings, or even of uncanny encounters among the shadowy walls.

Either they are all tall tales, or the folds of darkness and night do posses more than meets the eye.

Just like some genuine 1970s progressive-rock acts, the night time can really keep quite a handful of surprises in its sleeve.

Night Watch Psychedelic Shift

Disco Crap

I love meeting the ‘dance-y’ people on weekend nights. Rave, House or whatever else they’re high on, it’s always nice to see them smiley faces bleed.

It’s almost as nice as ripping off their money, booze and fancy smart phones, just before shoving their miserable existence into limbo.

Disco Death Volume 1

Sceneries

All this heat and boredom can really make one long for old stuffs. Those dusty and creepy vibes of bygone sounds and images of mystery.

Tasty naked dames and shiny blades. Wild grass, growing out of control amidst toppled statues and a deserted, foggy pond. Chandeliers daggling in dusty spider webs.

Blood tainted satin lingerie. White shadows over the dark, deserted nightfall. One can go on for ages with these exotic killing ground sceneries to imagine...

Exotic killing ground - Scenery 1 (The Atavistic Altar)

Exotic killing ground - Scenery 2 (The Trippy Blood Lust)

Moonlit Fever

It’s never enough, the infatuating chill one gets when sitting under the magick of a full blown moon. Feeling the night creeps under the skin.

The hell with those stupid fucking ‘domesticated’ werewolf and ‘romantic’ vampire movies crap.

A true moon spirit shall always be untamed, lustful for pain and vengeance.

A true funeral moon

Sign of the moon

Diabolical moon

Late and Cold

It’s late, wet and cold, and the blood under these nails just sticks like a bitch to a rich pig.

What a night indeed.

I’ll be damned if this should all lead to a defeat.

I scorn fucking defeat.

Creature of Habit

Some say we are all creatures of habit, and that fondness for being distracted is one of those habitual traits. Perhaps, that’s also the reason why I’m doing this blog or why medieval men and women tinkers with alchemy; religious chants; public executions or dungeon room torture techniques.

Perhaps, it’s the same reason why once a late 1980s obscured underground band hooked you with its haunting songs you just become hooked for life.

Perhaps.

Hooked to Necromancy

Hooked to Doom

Check List

Black stinking leather jacket on? Check

Rusty bullets-belt on? Check

Six packs of beers on hand? Check

Black T-shirt on? Check

Good conscience out of mind? Check

Leather pants on? Check

Pocket knife on hand? Check

Target on sight? Check

No police on deck? Check

Good music on ears? Check

Let the party begin....

Let the victims fall....

The Darkness Within

I don’t suppose it matters really, where you get your diabolical instincts. It’s just there. Lurking deep within and waiting for the right moments to light up the spark.

I am constantly amazed by those who manage to create works of art that could light up that dark spark within me with such ease. How do they do it?

Are they, just like me, living day to day carrying that darkness within so intimately that just about everything we do turns out as reflections of that hideous rot inside?

First Rotting Reflection

Second Rotting Reflection

Tribute to Blogs - The Archeologists

Archeology has always fascinated me as a kid. Nothing in those days seemed remotely as important as digging through cool ruins and finding mummies and all sorts of creepy shits as only an archaeologist could do. The same naïve fascination seemed to have lingered with extreme underground music. I just love people who gave the effort to collect, preserve and share all manners of obscure and rare snail-mail day underground releases. They are part of the minuscule of reasons why life can still be enjoyable sometimes.

Suomi Relics

I suppose it’s pretty obvious for most people that Finland has a great Death and Black Metal scene. But, how obvious is it when we talk about Finnish Hardcore or Punk or Heavy Metal? Thank shit we have such blog as this to inform us of the highly important facts regarding the multi-faceted Finnish underground scene (well, at least before Death & Black Metal become the hype, I suppose?).

Scandinavian Fossils

Metallic Artifacts

I think the idea that demonic/satanic imagery always fits metal music is quite true, and yet also overrated. The sight of a steroid-drenched muscular barbarian/medieval warrior has also hold a pretty impressive and fitting imagery for the music. It almost makes the music feels fit only for warriors, and that if you’re not one then listening to the music makes you (feel like) one. Of course, it doesn’t hurt when you have a collection of great, rare and kick-ass metal music to top it off.

Bloody Artifacts

Dusty Metal Ruins

Heavy/Speed/Thrash Metal, NWOBHM, spikes, hair sprays, eyeliners, one off singles, EPs that drowned in oblivion. If these sound unfamiliar for you then the word ‘metal’, in any type of combination referring to any specific musical styles, is a voluminous lesson that needs to be surmounted before you can ever profess to like the genre. There is no better place to start such a lesson, if you dare, than through the meticulous archives of this great blog. Be dusted in the depths of Metal ruins.

Rarities of the Metallic Kind

Ruins of Psychedelia

What would drive anyone to decide in pursuing a vast and detailed collection of everything created in the 60s and 70s psychedelic Rock saga? Is it the fuzzy, methamphetamine induced groove of the era? The corny and colorful attires, album covers, freezer magnet and stupid VW vans? Whatever it is/was, I am surely glad that some people do pursue this highly amusing and trivial form of collecting.

Psychebiblioteca

Drowning

Fingers slipping, breath thinning, water rushing painfully through the nostrils. What a damn wretched situation drowning is.

I don’t suppose cement block on the feet makes it any better, does it? I don’t think a few stab wounds makes it any less awful either.

Perhaps a good dose of nautical-themed, heavy-as-fuck Doom orchestration would ease the suffering? Say, something like the fine, relaxing tunes of Ahab, perhaps?

Drowning Anesthetic Dosage 1

Tribute to Blogs - The Specialists (Pt.1)

Specialization is always intriguing. It tends to provide a comprehensive look over something that would otherwise seem trivial from a generalized point of view. The only problem is it’s mostly a love-it-or-hate-it situation with such specialized stuffs. Of course, on the other hand, it also provides a chance to satisfy peculiar fetishes as the following great blogs shall represent.

Scaremongering

It’s one thing to read a review of a horror movie from people making a living out of such undertakings, and to read a review from someone who has nothing to gain from it (except for the thrill of watching and crapping oneself to shit with such movies). When morbid movies are your fetish, you can’t go wrong with this blog.

Scaremongering Galore

Filth, Par Excellence

Lust is lust, and flesh is of course flesh. Combine the two and we have the reason for our viral-existence and procreation in this wasteland called earth. It’s a lot of fun though, that’s for sure, especially when people start doing it not for procreation and just for recreation. Depopulation is always more welcomed, and it’s a hell lot better when it’s done in the proper, joyful spirit.

Fleshy Cult

Cult of the Undead

Some things are so important that life would be rendered meaningless unless they are sought after with great perseverance! One of those things is the ever important need to collect all manner of 20th and 21st centuries’ relics of the living dead myth. Yes. You read and heard it right. The zombies. The walking stinks. The things that go bump in the dead of night. The quintessential thing to do in the banality of nowadays swarm of a suffocating overpopulated shithole called life. Click and learn people.

Zombified Fetish

Inanimate Beings

The skill to put together an inanimate entity to paper, out of fantasy alone, is a most intriguing trait any humans could ever aspire to achieve. I just fucking love these morbid, menacing, lusty drawings. They look so much better not just because the artist seemed to be a highly gifted fellow, but also because they are inanimate. Things just tend to look better when they are inanimate, don’t you think?

Sine Anima