Yet again, we here at TMW have been given the honour of working alongside the mighty FYC Records to further the cause of outright hate and loathing for mankind that founder Nikolaos Spanakis has been on what some may call a crusade about since his very early years. Yes, he has looked upon the world and found it lacking for a long time, and the demons that have joined him in mind and body as he has aged like the finest of dark wines only drive him further in his pursuit to share his thoughts with all and any that will bend an ear.
And it is not terribly hard to give his words many a thought. In this incarnation he goes by the name of Wrath, and an apt name it is for those who know the material. Nothing less than utter rage and seething hate are directed at you. Like a foul wind from the very depths of some long forgotten putrid grave full of restless souls, his words wash over you like burning wind. There is no ground given in his work. At some moments it can seem almost soothing, the wind eases and you almost feel a sense of calm, but inside you know what is coming, and those that choose to follow eagerly await the anger, the angst, and the tortured bellows of a man who seeks his own path and not that of others.
Today we share with you the second track from the album “Suicide and the Rest of Your Kind will Follow Part II.” Here his anger is directed at us, for our foolish waste of an opportunity handed to us on a golden platter. But first, you must listen to and watch “Servants of Ego and Filth: The Bastard Sons of Nature.“
Here we see the juxtaposition of both the beauty of nature and the destruction mankind willingly brings upon her, but the tale is somewhat visually cryptic. The stage is set, the actors have been cast, it is now too late to back out.
Mystery abounds. We see the beauty of Mother Nature, and then the death of a forest by raging fire. Who is this hooded figure before us. Is she the personification of Mother nature? What of the other hooded figure who appears to be following her carrying an axe, the very personification of the death of forests in hand. Does he seek to destroy her, possessed by the spirit of the axe itself bent on the ruination of beauty?
Given voice, the female character then sings about “Being in the shadow of my pale companion,” and one cannot help but think that Mother Nature is crying out to the closest being she has ever had in this lonely universe, The Moon. But it cannot help. It can only watch. It has nothing to offer the greed and lust of mankind except territory and minerals that would cost them a loss or even open war to claim. As surely as we rape and destroy what we have, we will find something we need there and do the same, but not for now. For now it is relatively safe.
We see a man who has quite obviously gone insane screaming bile and hatred as he tries to escape what seems to be a house turned into some kind of prison. The words “You are the mistake, the bastard son of Mother Nature” burnt deep into his soul. He seems held captive, and he is chains, but yet does not try to escape. He peers out on what his kind has done. Removes a simple brick from the wall to see better, but at no moment in the right now seems to want to escape.
Is the prison of his own mind built by guilt or did Mother Nature somehow imprison him in this simple structure as birds wheel endlessly overhead. Are they Vultures, or Crows of bad portent waiting for his demise, or are they all just caught in some endless loop of atrocity that seems to follow mankind.
We, unlike every living thing on this planet do just not fit. There was never a marriage between Mother Earth and the living things she entered into some sort of unity with, they just do and did what they did. No conquering of lands or burning the very homes that shelter them etc. Coexistence, the perfect alignment that led to all being able to survive and flourish.
Enter man. Whatever we crawled out of, we where born unto this Earth with her help, but whatever fathered us had no care for creation and life, only destruction and death. We live this every day by destroying the gift that we have been given, only for our own selfish need. When we reap, everything dies. We are a blight and a curse and we make excuses for our actions with false Gods and lies and acts of such meaningless value that our dear Mother can no longer take at face value. We were offered an Apple once, and we even ruined that chance. No God gave us the Garden of Eden, she did. The Snake did not offer us temptation, it offered us a chance to be free, and that moment of choice has become the chain around our necks for centuries. We revert to form, because the burden of what we have done to our mother since then is too much to bare.
This is the way I have read this, in my own way.
Nikolaos (or Wrath) may have his own interpretation, because he wrote the words and had the images to form such a thing, but the gift he gives to us are words that are his, and ones that he thinks we are adult enough to work out for ourselves. I think he insists that we find his messages, because they make us think. Even when it seems simple, it is not. You need to actually engage the gears in your brain, and I think he likes to MAKE people think, and I have nothing but respect for his work for that exact reason. His music has never been about politeness, or elegance, or any such fuckery. It is meant to hit you in the gut, wound you in the heart, and give you a good hard slap in the face with an Iron Gauntlet.
Yes. We are The Servants of Ego and Filth, and the Bastard Sons of Nature. Can we change things and make our Mother shine once again? We simply must. Any other result will end with our demise.
Kudos again to FYC. Support the underground, support stuff that challenges you and is not right up that comfort zone we all seem to possess. Support good music.