All posts by Indy

>The louse of holy name

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 How much longer will you keep up the worm-eaten cult of this god, who is insensible to your prayers and to the generous sacrifices that you offer him as an expiatory holocaust? Can you not see that this horrible manitou is not grateful for the bowls of blood and brains which you lay on his altars, piously decorated with garlands of flowers. He is not grateful… for earthquakes and tempests have been raging uninterruptedly since the beginning of all things. And nonetheless (this is a spectacle worthy of observation), the more indifferent he is, the more you admire him. It is clear that you are wary of his attributes, which he hides; and your reasoning is based on the consideration that a divinity of such extreme power can only show disdain for the faithful who obey the commandments of his religion. For that reason different gods exist in each country: here, the crocodile, there, the prostitute.

But when it comes to the louse, of holy name, the nations of the earth, one and all kissing the chains of their slavery, kneel together in the august sanctuary before the pedestal of this shapeless and bloodthirsty idol. Any people that did not obey its own grovelling instincts and made as if to rebel, would sooner or later disappear from the face of the earth like an autumn leaf, destroyed by the vengeance of the inexorable god.
Lautrémont, Maldoror 1868-1869
[more here]

>Theodore Kaczynski, The Unabomber – Part Fourteen

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Before summarizing what I’ve written about Kaczynski, I’d like to write about his life in the wild. As stated earlier, this wasn’t as ”into the wild” as people seem to think. He was always in sight of his nextdoor neighbour, for example. The place he chose offered no solitude. The area was pretty much clogged with summer and hunting cabins. Snowmobilers, hunters, gold diggers and loggers constantly roamed the woods. If he’d went further into the wild he’d also find much cheaper places. The thing is that being this close to civilization made it easier for him to execute his revenge. Planting the bombs required travelling. Had he been too far off it would have been too time consuming getting where he wanted to kill. Also, with all these people disturbing the peace he would increasingly become very angry. They fueled his hatred.

The cabin in the lower left.

As we now know, the culture of despair had undergone transformation, from worry about society to worry about nature. Ecologists in the 1940’s concluded that in nature, every part plays a role in keeping the system in balance. If the system loses parts we will suffer ecological collapse.
Guided by this reasoning, ecologists began searching for signs of balance in nature. However, they could only find very few, and instead found great instability. Therefore, by the 1960’s, they would conclude that we were in the middle of a global environmental crisis. This caused pessimism to spread and it obviously nurtured the culture of despair, and The Unabomber and his anti-technology agenda.
However, by the mid-1980’s, most ecologists would realize that their previous assumptions were false. There is no balance in nature. There never had been any balance to find. But in the 1970s, they didn’t know that… And in 1971 Ted starts to build his cabin.

Many young people were willing to try anything to get away from everyday pessimism, slave-like labour and hopelessness. They wanted to reach a higher level of consciousness. Self-hypnosis, meditation, dream journals, Tai Chi, karate, Feldenkrais, Kabbalism, Buddhism, therapy studies… stuff like that. Some of them sought escape in nature, hoping to construct new communities, often supported by the economy of marijuana. They moved out and grew pot, so to speak.
Some of them soon embraced a form of terrorism labelled ”ecotage” – ecological sabotage – dedicated to saving nature, where monkeywrenching soon became the thing to do. Monkeywrenching is a tactic which was used at first by students protesting the Vietnam war. It’s all about vandalism in the name of environmental protection, like destroying machinery, roadside signs, hammering lots of nails into the trees which will cause chain saws to virtually explode in the operator’s hand… At first, since these people did harm to property, not people, they were treated almost as harmless by the national media. But like all historical movements, ecotage came to have its imitators who didn’t shy from real violence. Alston Chase writes in his book Harvard and the Unabomber: ”In these groups, America was for the first time encountering the mind of the modern terrorist”.

Another group of people, sometimes called the Silent Generation, believed that the collapse had already occured. They found that their world had simply disappeared. The 1960’s should have been their days of joy, their salad days, but instead everything went over their heads. The 1960’s were years of chaos. They didn’t fit in. Some of them simply kept low profiles, getting on with their day to day lives, sticking to the family and the job. Others sought escape in nature. 
But while the young people were motivated by a desire to get close to nature, the Silent Generation wanted to get away from a world gone mad, away from public life, away from people. The young were optimistic and active, the Silents were pessimistic and passive. Kaczynski’s birth date – 1942 – lay at what demographers consider to be the gap between the Silents and the youngsters. He was pessimistic, but he also wanted action. Despair and commitment would be a deadly combination.

Kaczynski’s life in the cabin was mostly dedicated to learning and gathering information. He was a frequent visitor to the library, to say the least. He read books on woodcraft, botany, organic chemistry, poison antidotes, nutrition, pesticides, Indian customs, rifle shooting, first aid, wilderness medicine, seeds, weeds, trees, animal tracks, mushrooms, edible and poisonous plants, wildflowers… You name it, he read it and made efficient use of it.
The cabin he built was ten by twelve foot (3 x 3,5 metres), and he also dug a root cellar and planted a garden. Instead of digging a well, he got water from a creek with a hose. Life would’ve been good, but as Chase writes: ”No sooner had he settled in his Eden than serpents appeared”. Kaczynski was very sensitive to noise, and the sounds of chainsaws, snowmobiles, jet planes, helicopters, people – the serpents – made him even more angry. So he decided to take action. He strung wires across trails hoping to get the bikers, he shot at helicopters and he destroyed peoples’ stuff.
He writes in his journal:

Risky to commit crime so close to home. But I figured if I did not get those guys, the anger would literally kill me. Anyway, so one night in fall I sneaked over there, though they were home, and stole their chainsaw, buried it in a swamp. That was not enough, so couple weeks later when they had left the place, I chopped my way into their house, smashed up interior pretty thoroughly. It was a real luxury place. They also had a mobile home there. I broke into that too, found silver painted motorcycle inside, smashed it up with their own axe. They had four snowmobiles sitting outside. I thoroughly smashed engines of those with the axe.

By the summer of 1977 he wrote:

I set a booby-trap intended to kill someone, but I won’t say what kind or where because if this paper is ever found the trap might be harmlessly removed.

When Exxon did seismic explorations for oil, using dynamite from helicopters in the area:

 Early August I went and camped out […] hoping to shoot up a helicopter in area east of crater mountain. Proved harder than I thought, because helicopters always in motion, never know where they will go next. Tall trees in way of shot. Only once had half a glance. Two quick shots, roughly aimed, as copter crossed space between two trees. Missed both. When I got back to camp I cried, partly from frustration at missing, but mostly grief about what is happening to the country. It is so beautiful. But if they find oil, disaster. Even if not find oil, the blasts and helicopters ruin it.  Desecration. Where can I go now for peace and quiet?

The removal of the cabin as evidence.

The cabin, now an artifact owned by the FBI, I think.

As Kaczynski slowly became addicted to violence his campaign of terror slowly made him feel worse. He hated his family, and wanted to break totally with them, but he was dependent on their financial aid. The more complex his bombs, the more money he needed, and his family was the only source of income. His anger and frustration went off the charts. In February 1987, when planting the very deadly bomb number twelve, he was seen by an employee who gave a good portrait of him, and Kaczynski was frightened. Between 1987 and 1992 he stopped with his bombings, instead testing new mixtures and devices to find the perfect detonator at secret sites in the wilderness behind his cabin.

>Socialized death sentence

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You punch in at 8:30 every morning, except you punch in at 7:30 following a business holiday, unless it’s a Monday, then you punch in at 8 o’clock. Punch in late and they dock ya!
Incoming articles get a voucher, outgoing articles provide a voucher. Move any article without a voucher and they dock ya!
Letter size a green voucher, oversize a yellow voucher, parcel size a maroon voucher. Wrong color voucher and they dock ya!
6787049A/6. That is your employee number. It will not be repeated! Without your employee number you cannot get your paycheck.
Inter-office mail is code 37, intra-office mail 37-3, outside mail is 3-37. Code it wrong and they dock ya!
This has been your orientation. Is there anything you do not understand, is there anything you understand only partially? If you have not been fully oriented, you must file a complaint with personnel. File a faulty complaint and they dock ya!

Isn’t it strange? A job I loved a couple of months ago (November 2008) has turned into crap. This isn’t supposed to be a blog about my private life, but some things cannot go unnoticed. Work kills.
Dystopia, one of the best bands to ever grace this beautiful planet infested with rotten humans, puts it well in their super smash hit Socialized Death Sentence. Check out the earlier Dystopia post for even more joy. Happy time!


I am just a fucking slave
bust my ass for minimum wage
Before I’m paid the system comes and takes half away…
for bombs someday
My boss hates my fucking guts
I was never good enough
If I’m injured on the job
he’ll say ‘tough luck’
He’ll find someone else to fuck
My job… My life

Landlord’s pissed, rent is due
Haven’t worked in a few
If I don’t pay I get evicted
I’m fucking screwed
What am I supposed to do?
Each day… I die

Your… Your job sucks
The system fucks
A timeclock head
I’m dead
Employed… Mind void
Destroyed… Can’t avoid

I try… to survive
…losing…
Work, work
Socialized death sentence
System, system
Fucked all around
Work, work
like taking cyanide
System, system
Washing it down…
And I die again tomorrow…
When I wake up

This is Louis Harrell with his retirement award from J.P. Stevens Mill, his employer, shortly before his death 1978. Harrell died at age 62 of byssinosis, or “brown lung,” after years of inhaling dust generated in cotton manufacture. Brown lung – a term coined by Ralph Nader – occurs almost exclusively in cotton processing workers who handle raw cotton.
Byssinosis could have been recognized sooner. Health officials as far back as the 1930s were aware of the dangers of workers’ prolonged exposure to cotton dust. Because it was able to control the outflow of health data, the cotton industry stalled acknowledgment of the disease for 50 years. Finally in 1978 OSHA imposed a protective standard on textile factories. It estimated that 35,000 people had the disease and 100,000 more were at risk.
Today cotton production and byssinosis are largely ended in the US, but both are common in the third world.

>Jehova, Christ, Lucifer and Satan

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Robert DeGrimston was the founder of the very odd religious group The Process Church of The Final Judgement, whose main thing was that they worshipped both Christ and Satan. Their belief was that in the end times, Satan would join with Christ and together they were to judge humanity; Christ to judge and Satan to execute judgement.
The Process believed there are three God-patterns that exist within all of us.
Wikipedia:

  • Jehovah, the wrathful God of vengeance and retribution, demands discipline, courage and ruthlessness, and a single-minded dedication to duty, purity and self-denial.
  • Lucifer, the Light Bearer, urges us to enjoy life to the full, to value success in human terms, to be gentle and kind and loving, and to live in peace and harmony with one another. Man’s apparent inability to value success without descending into greed, jealousy and an exaggerated sense of his own importance, has brought the God Lucifer into disrepute. He has become mistakenly identified with Satan.
  • Satan, the receiver of transcendent souls and corrupted bodies, instills in us two directly opposite qualities; at one end an urge to rise above all human and physical needs and appetites, to become all soul and no body, all spirit and no mind, and at the other end a desire to sink beneath all human codes of behavior, and to wallow in a morass of violence, lunacy and excessive physical indulgence. But it is the lower end of Satan‘s nature that men fear, which is why Satan, by whatever name, is seen as the Adversary.

The X Spot has a great article about these people here. The group existed between 1963 and 1974, and when Robert was removed from the top position as Teacher the group quickly renounced most of his ideas. They changed the name to Founding Faith of the Millennium, and within short time their focus had changed completely. Now they exist as Best Friends Animal Society, which is one of America’s best known animal welfare rescue groups (!).  
However, I’m not at all interested in their old religious belief system. What I like is their old newsletters and prose, especially the book Satan on War. I enjoy the words immensely. Like this:

Know that life is worthless unless it is lived in the very teeth of death, that peace is nothing except as a fleeting moment in the midst of WAR, that love is empty save as a transitory oasis in a world of violent hatred, that to create is only meaningful in order to destroy.

>Theodore Kaczynski, The Unabomber – Part Thirteen

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The 60’s were years of chaos. People began feeling a sense of disillusionment with the system. To Kaczynski this would become disastrous. As he continued to suffer through Murray’s experiments, he began to worry about society’s use of ”mind control”. He was convinced that academics – in particular scientists – were servants of the system, employed to develop techniques for behavioral control of populations. And Murray, who treated human beings as guinea pigs, and who was at the forefront in his field, widely accepted by everybody, wasn’t the only cause for Kaczynski’s conviction.

Alston Chase, in his book Harvard and the Unabomber, has a seemingly endless list of what caused the chaos and conviction:
Technological progress, the space race, the escalation of the Cold War, the sexual revolution, the birth of drug culture, television, the civil rights revolution, consumerism, the environmental awakening, The Cuban missile crisis, A Clockwork Orange, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, The Manchurian Candidate (a movie about brainwashing and mind control), the first Wal-Mart store, the birth-control pill, the women rights movement, Timothy Leary, the assassinations of Jack and Bobby Kennedy, Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr., the ”Summer of Love”, anti-Vietnam war protests, riots in hundreds of cities and college campuses, the moon landings, Woodstock, the Bay of Pigs fiasco, the Cambodia bombings…

In 1967 around 150,000 people marched against the Vietnam War in New York and San Francisco. Later that year, another 150,000 protestors marched against the Pentagon. The CIA launched ”Operation CHAOS”, a plan to spy on American citizens that would eventually collect the names of 300,000 people. In March 1968, FBI director J. Edgar Hoover initiated a Counter-intelligence program against what they called ”Black-Nationalist-Hate-Groups”. Two weeks later, the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. triggered race riots in 125 cities, causing 46 deaths, 21,270 arrests, and involving 55,000 National Guard and federal troops. In November, students at San Francisco State College began a strike against the war that would last five months.
At Harvard, April 9, 1969, the home of Theodore Kaczynski, things would change too. Without warning, three hundred students charged the steps of the administration buildings and hung the red and black banner of the SDS (Students for a Democratic Society) from a window. Altogether, forty-one students were injured.
Chaos reigned and The Age of Reason had come to an end. The last nails in the coffin of the Western civilization was about to be driven down.

The influental French philosopher, historian and sociologist Michel Foucault had come to the conclusion that ”there was morality nowhere” (in the words of Norman Cantor). ”His culture is a culture of political despair. He sees only a struggle for power, a manipulation of ideas and ethical values by all groups of society through all moments of time, including the present.”
The shift of emphasis from the individual to the system reinforced feelings of helplessness. The system ruled and everyone was a victim. This was eventually distilled down into one thought: The system rested on power alone and therefore must be destroyed.

Theodore Kaczynski chose to retreat to the wilderness. He wanted to escape the clutches of civilization and then later plot its destruction.

>SRM Reviews (#64 August 2009)

>Published in Sweden Rock Magazine #64 August 2009.

Ahab
The Divinity of Oceans8/10
Napalm (Sound Pollution)

Den extremt extrema genren funeral doom är i mitt tycke oftast löjeväckande. Att spela så långsamt som möjligt och att låta vokalisten nästintill kväva sig själv medelst sinnessjukt dovt growlande är ingen utmaning. Mina förväntningar var således mycket låga inför detta släpp.
Men efter två genomlyssningar är jag nästintill hög, och jag har inte dragit ett enda bloss. Ahab skapar imponerande stor musik. De rör sig från fantastiskt vackra gitarrformationer till rejält brutalkrossande tyngd hur enkelt och naturligt som helst. Jag blir hela tiden överraskad av vändningar i låtarna, och då snackar vi alltså funeral doom – världens långsammaste genre. Att kunna göra något nytt av den är en enorm bedrift.
Någon renrasig begravning är det dock inte tal om. Ahab bryter traditioner på löpande band, men utan att gravskända alltför mycket. Sången pendlar mellan ultralåg growl och drömsk ren sång och ligger helt perfekt i mixen. Produktionen är överhuvudtaget som gjuten för ändamålet: känslan av att resa, betrakta och möta det mörkt gåtfulla havet, både ovan och under vattenytan. Kanske skulle det låta så här om Opeth närmade sig genren?
Det här är givetvis ingenting man diskar till. När The Divinity of Oceans ljuder ska det vara lugn och ro och mörker runtomkring. Här finns så många nyanser att upptäcka. Somnar du så förlorar du.
Tveklöst genrens bästa album.

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Dismember
Under Blood Red Skies DVD – 9/10
Regain (ADA/Warner)

Det här är så jävla bra! Dismember levererar alltid, och precis som med Bolt Thrower och Motörhead så vet man att det sällan kan bli sämre än asbra.
Skiva 1 klockar in på sjuttio minuter och innehåller Dismembers gig från Party San-festivalen i Tyskland 2008. Det är ett smart drag att börja med slöa Stillborn Ways. Det får publiken att gå helt bananas när tvåtakten plöjer fram i nästföljande Death Conquers All. Hälften av låtarna är från den senaste självbetitlade plattan, men i princip kvittar det från vilket album det här bandet väljer hits; det mesta är nämligen guld likt aset. Och när materialet framförs med sådan spelglädje och samspelthet är det bara att hänga med. Iron Maiden-partiet i Under a Bloodred Sky är så sjukt snyggt att man flinar bredare än vad som är möjligt. Även på scen hyllas bandets hjältar i form av klassiska posterflaggor med Iron Maiden, Judas Priest och Motörhead. En oväntad bonus dyker upp när de river av Tide of Blood, något som varken nämns på fodralet eller i DVD-menyn.
Andra delen av konserten utgörs av att hela debutplattan, Like an Everflowing Stream (1991), gås igenom i kronologisk ordning och jag hör mig själv ideligen utropa ”Det här är så jävla bra!” för mig själv i TV-soffan. Hela konserten är superbt filmad med mängder av kameror, och vi slipper tack och lov den hysteriska MTV-klippningen. Alla medlemmar har gott om tid i rutan. Till och med Thomas Daun syns osedvanligt bra bakom skinnen. När dessutom ljudet är fantastiskt (varenda trumdetalj hörs!), så är det svårt att inte ge högsta betyg för den här skivan.
Skiva två rymmer fyrtioåtta minuters härligt häng med grabbarna ute på vägarna i form av dokumentären Death Metal & More Mental Illness. Dessutom får vi bonusmaterial (ytterligare tjugosju minuters headbang och Die Apokalyptischen Reiter-ballonger) som fungerar som en förlängning av dokumentären. Jag gillar det skarpt! Det är en lätt efterbliven stämning över dokumentären och snubbarna bjuder verkligen på sig själva. Det här är lirare med ena foten på jorden och den andra på monitorn, frenetiskt headbangande sig igenom tillvaron. Man garvar mest hela tiden.
När Matti ”Kuk!” Kärki presenterar bandet från scenen med orden ”All the way from Norway, Copenhagen, we are fucking Entombed!”, varpå de sedan drar igång en hyfsat orepad cover på Entombeds Supposed to Rot där Matti growlar ”lalalalala” och bandet tycks spela olika låtar, så garvar man ännu mer. Översättningen är också av högsta kvalitet. När det i studion sägs ”Det var ett jävla bra hästgnägg där asså!” översätts detta med ”Great tremolowork!”.
Enligt promoblad och nyhetsutskick ska den här dubbeldisken innehålla ytterligare en hel konsert, men så är inte fallet. Det spelar dock mindre roll. Det här är så satans bra ändå.
Erik Danielsson från Trident Art/Watain har för övrigt gjort det läckra omslaget. Se och lär, photoshoppmuppar.

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Minsk
With Echoes in the Movement of Stone4/10
Relapse (Border)

Minsk öppnar likt ett piggare Neurosis, som ett psykedeliskt, mer svårtillgängligt Mastodon. Men ju längre man kommer in i den här skivan desto mer introvert blir materialet. Det känns som om strukturer suddas ut, som om man lämnar kroppen. Tillsammans med Minsk svävar man ut i rymden, drar omkring i öknen och sitter vid eldstaden hos några nedrökta hippies och lirar på pukor.
Det är flummigt, och det kräver koncentrerad lyssning. Mest intressant blir det i de sista skälvande styckena där Mogwais ande svävar över nejden.
Men jag tycker det blir för mycket utsvävningar och för lite låtar. Och när vokalisten går upp i det där högstämda Loa Falkman-skrålandet så osäkrar jag min Uzi. Samtidigt tror jag att albumet kan växa efterhand, men då krävs det givetvis att man sätter sig ner och tvångslyssnar. Just nu är jag inte särskilt sugen på det.

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Tormented
Rotten Death7/10
Iron Fist (Sound Pollution)

Pausen 03:01 in i Drowning in Decaying Flesh där det fullkomligt osar skit, piss, spya, död och vansinne säger allt om den här råa inspelningen. De första sekunderna i Reversed Funeral (briljant titel!) deklarerar också vad det handlar om: ös!
Mycket hänger på den råpunkiga mixen och den envetna tvåtakten som aldrig ger upp. Det är slagsmål i replokalen, men i grunden finns här mangelriff som mördar. Vi får absolut ingenting nytt, men det märks så väl när det är bra framfört och med rätt influenser.
Gött också att höra Andreas ”Drette” Axelsons röst igen. Jag gillar den som bäst på Marduks kaosartade debutskiva Dark Endless (1992). Här låter den mörkare och säkrare.
De här fyra lirarna återfinns även i ett stabilt kängpunkband vid namn Tortyr. Jag förväntade mig alltså en jävla omgång dödskäng, men så blev det inte alls. I stället fick man en näve skitig, gammal tvåtaktsdöds rakt i nyllet!
De e najs.

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Yob
The Great Cessation5/10
Profound Lore (Sound Pollution)

Yob står bakom den smartaste definitionen av doom som jag någonsin skådat: albumtiteln The Illusion of Motion (2004). Jag älskar den! Och vilken platta det är! Tveklöst bandets kvalitetsmässiga höjdpunkt. Det blir knappast bättre än inledande Ball of Molten Led.
Men därefter dalade de snabbt. De blev aldrig bättre. Därmed inte sagt att det var dåligt, men det blev ett väldigt utdraget, repetitivt famlande efter kärnan. Uppföljaren The Unreal Never Lived (2005) lät så, och sedan upplöstes bandet.
Tyvärr känns denna comebackskiva likadan. Det är sällan dåligt, men jag tycker inte att Yob hittar fram till något riktigt väsentligt. Det är mycket mörkare än tidigare, och sången varieras än mer, men den släpiga, extrema doom som Yob står för finner inget hem förrän i det avslutande titelspåret.
Det räcker helt enkelt inte.