Choronzon | METALSITES.net

Biography

CHORONZON Blackened Electro Metal from America Choronzon (USA) is a one-man project under the command of Mr. P. Emerson Williams.

The music of Choronzon is a find blend of Black, Thrash and Industrial, but you also find strong Gothic elements and some out of the ordinary psychedelic/ Ambient elements. If you've had anything to do with the goth scene or read any occult oriented magazines in the early nineties you would almost certainly have come acress the art of Peter Emerson Williams, or read interviews with his band, Veil of Thorns.

What was less known at the time was the evil Demon he was giving brith to: Choronzon. P. Emerson Williams had spent the late eightees trying to get a Black Metal band going that was sincere about its occult involvement. Finding nothing but baseball-capped thrashers who were content with aping Exodus, Metallica and Anthrax he decided to withdraw from the world for a while to concentrate on art, Veil of Thorns and perfecting his vision of Metal.

Choronzon was first brought out from the underworld with "Emotional Hunger", a heavily Death-tinged three song affair that had its good points but barely hinted in -92 at what was to follow. It was with the second self-titled demo Williams' vision was brought lightyears closer to realization, and the public interest was immediately felt to the point at which it was difficult to get review copies sent out as the tapes were sold almost as soon as they were duplicated. What most characterized the second demo was a ritualistic experimentalism that was not quite the amorphous devilry of Abruptum and some eighties style riffs that weren't quite retro. This demo was without a doubt a far purer Black Metal release than the preceeding demo and the subsequent album. "Magog Agog" is taken from James Joyces "Finnegans Wake". It is to be found in a passage of epithets hurled at, written down and collected by a much derided derilict in the town. It fits perfectly with the way P. Emerson Williams was treated by many in the goth scene, and the words have a very meaningful occult meaning which fits Choronzon to a T. P. Emerson Williams has to do everything the hard way. A more career minded artist would have seized on the opportunity afforded being signed to Nocturnal Art Productions and its association with Samoth of the mighty Emperor, touring and considering the comfort of the audience. Instead Mr. Williams played with his own sanity, crossing the Abyss and disappeared for several years. During this time he recorded two Choronzon albums, both of which were rejected by NAP, Samoth not seeing any audience sick enough to be able to take their deliberately grating harshness. The first, a Paean to Lilith, queen of the succubae and lover and protector of P. Emerson Williams, disappeared mysteriously. The tracks which were mixed to DAT, were unaccountably replaced with white noise, underneath which could be discerned gibbering and laughter. The second, “Era Vulgaris”, a thrashing testament to torture, sprang fully formed over the span of a week out of Mr. Williams’ unconscious. The sound goes back to the harsh, electronic blackness of the original Choronzon demo; a sound with no consideration towards commercial potential. Following being dropped from NAP, P. Emerson lived on the streets among homeless criminals and drug addicts, gaining much insight on the futility of the lives of the average. Then, adopting a persona of a normal middle class American, he lived and interacted with people through various service sector jobs, finding the Majority to be emptier and more frightened than he could have anticipated. Privately going deeper into his occult studies, as well as disassembling and reassembling his psyche through meditation, ritual and various forms of psycho therapy, he began to produce new work. It was time to assemble the tribe and catalyze a cultural evolution. This is happening in the unlikely location of Winter Park, Florida, a place so devoid of soul and character that outside influences are as absent as in a hermits dwelling deep in the woods. As the Work is prepared for release, we bring you “Era Vulgaris”. A snapshot of a state of mind/no mind that is kind of cute and quaint to us now, though it does point the way forward. Its pain is the pain of love.

"Psychosis Ex Machina" sets a new standard for Choronzon Winter Park, Florida 02/06/2004 Recorded during a far ranging psychick journey, the new album from US Industrial Black Metal entity, Choronzon, far outstrips past accomplishments. Elements of ritual, classical orchestration and a very visual sense of musical color characterize this documentation of a deeply felt spiritual journey. The gathering at the last event ever at Orlando’s experimental Garp Gallery on Church Street in October was the first to be treated with a live preview of the new music of P. Emerson Williams. The normally boisterous and milling crowd of Central Floridas art scenesters were transfixed and reverently letting themselves be carried away by the shamanic and improvisational performance of Choronzon. Acoustic performances by Metal musicians are rarely as chaotic and trance-inducing as the swirling and percussive assault launched that night by P. Emerson Williams and Malay sex-god Maynard De La Paz. Displayed were the same experimental melding of ethnic percussion, twisted soundscapes and emotionally unhinged vocal invocations of the music that was being created deep in the caverns of Foamin' South Studios. Choronzon have always been known as anarchic and occult practitioners of sonic Magickal craft, but past releases were mere previews of this releases harrowing scope. Claustrophobic tunnels of darkness open up into vast churning heavens into which the listeners are thrown. "Be warned! this record is an acquired taste! For the dark eccentric weirdo in the metal crowd only." Kurt Hubert, Pit Magazine about Choronzons debut, "Magog Agog". "The industrial edge of this band is the most visual side of their music, several noisy factors do play an essential part of his music and do not allow it to become polished or predictable." Nordic Vision Magazine. “A chaos demon has landed on Choronzon recording - that is why it is so sick. Alas never try to stick a label to this cd, otherwise it leaves you dissatisfied. Better get into it with free mind, as it can not be an everyday listen." Reviews taken from Ledo Takas#6 zine. " Born of need and dark desires no person would like to admit to. CHORONZON PSYCHOSIS EX MACHINA Foamin’ Sodomy Records It’s still in here you know. I can sense it. The environmental official claimed the place had been fully cleansed, sluiced at speeds usually associated with sandblasting: even laughing “that’ll do for the bastard!” But it’s still here. Waiting. Be warned, it comes in a pink, red and white (mostly) sleeve, and you could be tricked into thinking left-field Industrial. You might take it lightly. And be sucked through a vortex of howling misery. So shall it be, for P Emerson Williams, who is involved with a book, ‘Necromance’, out through Westgate Press, has been preparing for this album by playing gigs in unsuspecting art galleries. He’s been building up to it for years, and the dread fear we should all share is that he will take this miscarriage of inverted melody further still.

I lost track of tracks, which I think is intentional, although I’d tried hard to observe the map. The opening noise cloud contains voices, of that there is no doubt, and then the arousal/carousal which is abruptly switched on displays a dazed choral industrial tableau. Then it’s off, roaring and screeching like flea-infested beggars on speed. (Think: Ancient Mariner Inventing Anarcho-Punk.) The tracks often suggest these are ditches of burning maniacs, but in ‘The Enchanting Dead’ there’s guitars shunting into each other; one slug-like, one acrobatic, all juiced up by rasping, bubonic vocals, and these lyrics are almost convivial compared to the main body of work: “Who you are is what you by, You try so hard to charm the Enchanting Dead, You’ll never know the price you’ve paid.” Then we descend into Hell. You may think it’s just Industrial Rock with knobs on, but some of those knobs are bobby-trapped. It becomes a sandstorm inside which a battalion of skeletons create spectacular effects. (Think: Mummy Returns at a napalm Death convention.) You’ll encounter vast juddering creations, some secreting doomy riffs, and always the vociferous vocals are a sediment, a constant wild whispering in the harsh strata. The demonic spew is fine, the punky stomp unexpected, but mostly it’s just worrying, as you find yourself encircled by disembodied voices. There’s gruelling, hard Ambient grindcore, leaving a shattered cadaverous wreckage. And that’s you. And that’s okay too. I was relieved when it ended, making Leech Woman sound like The Proclaimers as it does, but I couldn’t help noticing that this palpitating Hellish breath creates a wind tunnel of musical mucus which is none other than orchestrated chaos. So I’m keeping it under lock and key, just to be on the safe side. Regrettably, it seems to have heard my plans…