Seraphylogenocide

by Z(enseider)Z

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Purchasable with gift card

     

1.
03:21
2.
02:18
3.
04:02
4.
5.
05:53
6.
02:29
7.
04:22
8.
02:16
9.
03:33
10.
00:42
11.
12.
03:05

about

Seraphylogenocide named as such for the slaughter in heaven and hell between loyalist angels and renegade angels of varying echelons and rank and even species phylogeny.
This album was finished during Yule in Baltimore where I had the courtesy of Amanda Qichao’s photographic imagery as crucial inspiration as well as her brother for herbal inspiration. That woman has an eye for what goes unseen by the exoteric visual spectrum.

For the most part I did all the mixing and "mastering" myself so it has a very, very DIY sound to it, but don’t be fooled everyone in Z(enseider)Z played their part. And this was in the days when all I had to work with was SoundForge so the approach was simple: get it done and have some fun.

As far as my software limitations: nothing but SoundForge 4.5 with no plug-ins, no clue how to record (I used m$ sound recorder to free-track each of the three rap songs), no farking idear how to sequence loops, and no way to multi-track either. Later on, I received some warez from Hsuan before the album had completely finished, but the majority of it was done with the most minimal technology.

I just pasted a mix of the vocals directly onto an existing instrumental file three times; talk about luck), and hardware limitations (a shit ass mic, headphones, speakers, monitors, no boards or mixers, limitations up to and including my PC (processor speed, RAM cache, and a Sound Blaster sound card, not to mention barely any HD space to work with) All in all it was a crash course lesson in mixing music. But in some ways I still feel tracks like “Dislocation" are far superior to anything I do now.

This album brought together the unintentional talents of the collective in every direction imaginable. I pulled off a few rhymeslayin tracks, one of which “Negative Two" drew its alliteral inspiration from a numeric pathworking I undertook using the Gematria of Nothing as my guide.

Ironically, despite technical obstacles, I still find Seraphylogenocide superior in certain ways to every album produced since then. It solely defines Neo-Folk Terrorcore as a more evolved form of Junk & Jizz for a lot of the mixed Garage multi-genre albums that followed.

credits

released December 22, 2003

Mixed and Engineered by Eian Orange

license

tags

about

Z(enseider)Z Stafford Township, New Jersey

Premiere aural catharsis and designer sophistry for psyberpunk scumfucks and bottom-feeding occultural scenesters

contact / help

Contact Z(enseider)Z

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: Intox
Increase intoxication, break cycles of drama inherent in abnormal flirtation of peoples to peoples cohabitation. Don't second guess the trifling intentions of any given situation. No need for redundant full-length explanation. All the tired, hungry, poor, sick, weary, fake, and vain got they shit coming back to them too. Dont'chu even fuckin worry, crew. No one can avoid The Game(tm) as it stands in the face of supposed fate. Whatever it means to you collides on the more fully inspired tide, a wave of events as they may or may not be or become in the undone version of shadow space. Reasons left? Ain't a trace. The consensus of many minds determines our methodology and pathology for sociality. Discovery of somethin beyond sympathy, empathy, and telepathy could always drag up the unending question of which Path and whY? Somethin you don't wanna tell to me, on-the-fly.

"II:22. I am the Snake that giveth knowledge and Delight and bright glory, and stir the hearts of men with drunkenness. To worship me take wine and strange drugs whereof I will tell my prophet, and be drunk thereof! They shall not harm ye at all. It is a lie, this folly against self. The exposure of innocence is a lie. Be strong, O man! lust enjoy all things of sense and rapture: fear not that any God shall deny thee for this. II:23. I am alone: there is no god where I am." ~Liber AL vel Legis
Track Name: Dead Presidents
Ninety-nine lives quantify consciousness to undermine the loss of this ability to transmogrify beliefs from lies. Ninety-nine hives buzz with information speed signs of discontent to new, new tribes of elemental fives and we head for azure-cerulean astral skies to theriomorphically heightened communion with my siblings and InI. Feline surprise will leave behind linear demise. Grab multidirectional megaphones and harvest freshly encrypted strains of mind. Thru depth in text or audio cutup skills we flex rest assured in your heart we've sigilized with the best. Don't even run your fuckin fingertips across the desk. There is no sense to make. There is no one to impress. Our fear leaves us without distress. Take every-fuckin-thing in jest.

Advise, protagonize, and analyze the shallow shortcomings of the stereotypified and ostracized. They need emotional engineers to rebuild their broken minds. And, we on-site, to sever the connection to they last line to outer heights. Hold that knot in the pit of your stomach tight. Don't jeopardize the rites denied, amplified, and surrendering to the identified. Trivial eyes. Cut down to size. Watch the meter rise, mercury plummets to new indeterminate minus heists.

Still confused? No excuse. Back in school the hard knocks left us black and blue thru and thru. There ain't no truth? D'fuck we fight, bleed, trip, and spit for all thru-out the trialsa youth? Was we asleep at the wheel when semi-aut spray hit Case cross his face between Morris ave. and 22? Right. Too many adjectives suffocate beneath a guise called I, we, me, and you. Some skills've no need for successes as a tangible proof. I'm still standin' wit my feet on the concrete and thats an accomplishment where I been, dude. It only boils down to details of what I seen on the routine. Daily antidotes for conformin to they scene. So many shades of green rule supreme, but shit I must admit I still ain't even sure who the fucks livin' who. Dead president double-penetration or phony rugged thugs without an ounce a nice or gram a smooth.
Track Name: Negative Two
Perverse Predatory Police Protect Pluralized Progressive Political Purposes. Punish Peoples Power. Poverty -- Parole -- Perdition ? Phony Pseudo-Prophetic Parables Preaching Purchased Property. Purgatory Pleasantries. Provided Payment Precedes Permanent Posthumous Passing. Push Pedestals Past Pulpits Promises. Pummeled Pious Performance Programs. Paralyzed, Petrified. Pulsing Precious Pains Permit Psychotic Preferences. Penetrate, Pervade. Produce Polarized Positions Pointing Perfect Paths Perceived. Petulant Prowess Pours. Perturbed Patience Portrays Petty Ploys Poised. Platonic Peers Pulverize Paradigms. Purport Premonitions. Persuade Pique Profit. Penalize Penniless Pathetic Poor. Permutate Pitiful Proverbial Pictures Painted Purple Pink Pale Peacock. Portioned Palettes Place Perfumed Perennial Plants Posing Pensive. Pesky Pride Photosynthesizes. Preserves. Pending Practice Pace Pertains Personal Plights. Pound Per Piece. Pacified Peeves. Pretentious Pet Peace. Pragmatic Parental Pipe Partake Poisonous Pathogens. Primitive Psychonautical Placebo Phase. Praise Pedestrian Pirate Poets. Pesticide Packed Potatoes Peel. Project. Pure Parody Pays. Proofread.

Z(enseider)Z recommends:

If you like Z(enseider)Z, you may also like: