Please, describe the music and aesthetics of Dhampyr.
Dhampyr is bedtime peony Gospel music. It is firecracker bumblebee suicides following fast/heady Halifax mimicries. It is terpsichore and idleness and the singing digestive tract of a gruesomely spinning Jarry bicycle strung like film-reel around the masts of a lonesome cotton terebinth c. 1593.
As to aesthetics, it is loincloth and fatuous codpiece and post-visionary Dada moping.
Others among the madding crowd might disagree on any or either of all of these depictions. That is O.K.
I started playing this sort of stuff at the age of sixteen-years-old. I rather look at it as something that has all the basic claims to supreme conceptual invitation – if there is a shortcoming somewhere in the concept, it is ruled out. Though, often the drugs are given final veto, and so you have, say, thirty-six records. Or chips of records, etc., and so forth.
How do you think your music evolved (or should I say transformed) from first until the last release?
I think I used a different guitar on the first record.
On this blog, I’ve seen lots of bands trying to push the boundaries of black metal and your band is no different. Your bio even mentions influences such Acid Mothers Temple. Do you think it’s about time for Black Metal to transform into something new? Do still feel part of this BM scene or have you moved away from that?
I don’t know that I’ve ever felt too scenic re: the “BM scene,” as you put it. But maybe it ought to go through something interstitial, not necessarily a transvestitial Kafka metamorph., but at least throw the dice around the green a bit. Shuffle the cards and play the Joker’s estranged tobacco-lobbyist boyfriend, Salted Peter.
DSBM bands normally rely on angst and desperate vocals but one of your songs called “You prayed for the wind to covet your palms” doesn’t have vocals but is constructed around a dialogue. I found it very disturbing and sad. Where did you get that sample from?
It was a scene from the film, “Requiem for a Dream,” which itself was plucked from Selby’s story (title: selfsame) re: a torturous dialectical account re: a folly bunch of wizened opioid scamps and, on the other side of the Hegelian morph, the Mother; and there’s a certain sense of bafflement in that character, Sara Goldfarb, and you’ll only know to be baffled if you’ve ever punched in to a factory job at 4:43 A.M. in Missouri or Guatemala not having worked for seven years / eyes bulging out like jet-planes from base terminal/ neighbor’s dog glued to your pocketed change.
When you make a new a record, do you have a concept in mind? Are they closed projects or the records dialogue with each other in a way?
It’s never that much of a linear process; the song comes when nothing else does. Maybe the day invents itself poorly. Bad mechanical trust-fund. A non-working, not-gorgeous esoterics. Pudgy misunderstood skull onthologies. So I do away with that.I do away with all of that sorrowful stock. And lighting a cigarette—
I intuit the guts of the lampshades, or else, sip reservedly some steeled alcohol, look out the window and recognize the lousiness and the general dogshit re: everything. And then the Sun’s little kidney stone motors up-upways to that sky, real big and outrageous-looking, and I’ll draw in the shades and pick up the guitar and wait for something else. Maybe a recompense from Pfizer. Godot. Dandruff from the armchair upon which was lain the Golden Fleece c. 1632. Etc., et hoc genus omne, and so forth and all the rest. Yap yap yap.
I could hear some Godflesh industrial heaviness on the last record. What music are you listening nowadays?
Earl Hooker. John Lee Hooker. The other Hookers. Mussorgsky, Debussy, Cui, Glinka, Shost., Strav., and ’80s techno. Croce, Cohen, Clapton, Cash, Crosby, Stills, and Nash.
Thanks for the interview and now you can say what you want.
Goethe is cheap stuff to the illiterate.
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