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Deiphago: Satan Alpha Omega

I have had one hell of a rough twenty-four hours. First of all, it was payday, and I just watched my entire paycheck go into the hands of everyone else. I can’t get over how few groveries $160 dollars [US] gets me in this friggin’ area. It literally wasn’t even enough to fill one rack in my fridge. On top of that, my car broke down just as I pulled into the store, where I was just about to buy a brand new laptop I’ve needed for well over half the year now. But, no, now I got a car repair bill instead again. Tack on that I can’t pay my electric and cable bills again, the first of two due to be shut off by the end of the month, four hours of sleep, and the first call of the night at work left me playing suicide prevention hotline employee to some ignorant woman who wants to kill herself over bills and warm water. Factor in that this is in no way my job on top of all of that, and you have a recipe for Apoch picking up the closest blunt object and bludgeoning every living breathing thing is his freakin’ path to a stump! So, I guess it doesn’t help that I’m listening to Satan Alpha Omega by Deiphago, and wanting even more to go on a genocidal rampage, because a homical one just doesn’t seem to be enough!

And that’s not because this is a bad album that is slowly eating away at my patience. Oh, no. This is pure Black Metal madness. Imagine the insanity and chaos some Industrial Black Metal groups can bring to the table, and remove all the electronic madness to it aside some vocal distortion. Pounding drums with blistering guitar work establishing a truly hellish atmosphere, sometimes complete with background voices similar to those in my head, such as during “Demonic Munitions,” making it even harder to disobey them at this point. The pulse racing assault has my blood pounding even more than the three cups of coffee I downed just to keep my caffeine addiction in check before hand, and I have to do something to keep myself from smashing through the locked door like the Incredible Hulk and mowing down any and all available pedestrians.

The raw, thundering drums and roaring bass are pouring through my speakers at max volume. The office is probably shaking, but that could very well just be me running the options of being caught through my head. “Human Reace Absolute End” is the perfect theme for this point of primal mental regression as I stare at the office door, waiting and hoping for someone to come in and complain about how loud I’m being, or how much noise I’m making, screaming at the top of my lungs to the music, even though I don’t have a single clue what the hell vocalist Voltaire 666 is screaming his off about. Who cares? It’s speaking to the unstable side of me, and in volumes, especially when “Plague and Satan Triumphant” kicked in.

Oh how it just completed my urge to destroy the nearest thing, living or not. The hatred and rage captured in this song is nearly over-the-top, but for a little more than two minutes, I’m perfectly fine with it. The altered shouting vocals had me seeing red the entire time. The slow fading of the ringing chords did calm me down a bit, as did the building start to “Exalted Hate.” It gave me a second to take some deep breaths and regain my vision somewhat. But, let’s face it, we all know where this was going before it even happened, and the explosion of rage just made me get up and start slamming myself against the barren walls, itching for a mosh pit with the people I can’t stand so that I cold hopefully put their pathetic flesh through said physical borders for the three and a half plus minutes of the song’s worthy existance…

I reach the end, and I don’t want it to stop. Especially after seeing my steaming ramen that still has not softened to an edible state yet. This is what I’m reduced to, eating noodle packets! It’s not like I don’t make enough to have a hamburger or a hot dog, even the lowest grade of beef! But here I sit with a twenty-five cent thing of noodles and spice packet, all due to inflation, the recession, bills, a dying car, family financial woes, cut hours, all enough to make me want to cut throats and blacken eyes deep down inside, but like any civilized primate I hold it back. But, with “Satan Alpha Omega,” the abuse from Deiphago starts to wash over me, like staring into the eyes of an ancient one, if only for a moment. The darkest thoughts I keep bottled up inside all seem viable to me as I let out one final primal scream before the song cuts away, and heads through a burdening ambient piece as an “Outro.” Tense, like the music, sanity kicks in. I start to rebuild my mental capacity, and I feel the madness slowly slipping away.

Calm…

Serene…

Silence…

Peace…

I’m at one with myself. All the frustrations removed, and the patience returns. Just in time. The phone is ringing again, and the call to march is at it’s end. At least, until the repeat brings things back to the start, inciting the genocide once more…

Void Moon (band)
Void Moon

Digital review copy of this release provided by Hells Headbangers.