Vomit Black Fire with Tchornobog and Ignivomous


For those missing out on our exclusive Toilet Discord, it may surprise you to know that I have spent the last weekend mired in the exsanguinous glory that is Copenhagen’s annual Kill-Town Death Fest. Much will be made of those proceedings in the coming days, but since these two bands are still rounding out their tour, I wanted to hurl my voice into the void and summon the last dregs of creatures and vermin worldwide to burst forth from the encrusted earth and lurch to their local metal dive bar in support of these wayward souls, as delightful to behold as they are unhinged.


The Tchornobog is an entity unknowable, clawing at your consciousness with sinewy tendrils of psychic black. It lives at the fringes of reality, bubbling across the barrier, reaching through the mental holes of doubt, emerging, writhing out of the voids beneath our weakening thoughts.

Its history is longer than time and of greater shadow than empty space. Few dared to acknowledge or confront it, much less attempt to capture its likeness. It has no arms, yet its arms are as long and bitter as daydreams. Its tactile form is absent of objective reality, so only very few outcasts dared to worship the Tchornobog.

“…as noted in Chroniculum Slavorum he noticed that they would start passing this bowl around and spitting in it, and they would sing the name Tchornobog to alleviate their curse…”

It is the voluntary ceremony of involuntary projection, the vomit of spiritual energy and inversion of awareness and enlightenment. It is blindness.

“…I see colours when I hear music; the idea behind the blindfold is to reduce the visual and emphasize the eye that is not present in the physical realm and cannot close, so it is seeing the horrors of the Tchornobog and is trying to accept them, while the Tchornobog attacks it as the ally of the sun…”


From the same end of the orificial spectrum there is the bright magmatic heat of the Ignivomous, a group channeling the fiery desolation of a violently barren desert. The agony of desiccation seeps beyond the punishing physical realm into the domain of mysticism and crumbling spirituality; it moves backwards through the dirge of history, twisted with the mental manipulation of eroding awareness.

9 September – Utrecht, Netherlands – dB´s
10 September – Deinze, Belgium – Elpee
11 September – Nantes, France – La Scène Michelet
12 September – Zurich, Switzerland – Ebrietas
13 September – Oberhausen, Germany – Helvete
15 September – Kiel, Germany – Alte Meierei


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