Categories
Interview Peplum

Aut Caesar Aut Nihil: Twenty Year Retrospective of the XII Caesars Industrial Compilation

Twenty years ago can seem like ancient history when looking at both pop and underground culture, a feeling that becomes compounded when a textual artifact from the past is an examination of ancient history proper. Industrial music typically does not dive into the world of antiquity, (usually staying in the realm of post-modern concepts), but the inherent experimental nature of the genre occasionally pushes a music project or release to explore topics related to ancient history. The 2004 compilation, XII Caesars, released by the long since defunct Somnambulant Corpse, is one of those outlier releases where industrialism and antiquity collide. Twenty years later, the release deserves to be unearthed and re-appreciated, not only for its contribution to the industrial genre, but as a time capsule of the underground scene in the aughts – a literal aural artifact. 

XII Caesars Cover Insert.

XII Caesars is a concept compilation with a specific focus on Julius Caesar and the first eleven emperors of Ancient Rome as detailed in Suetonius’ influential text, The Twelve Caesars. Each track focuses on a specific Caesar and are presented in chronological order of each emperor’s reign with two exceptions: four emperors share track seven “Year Of Four Emperors (Galba, Otho, Vitellius, Vespasian)” and the last track is the epilogue “Ultor,” a reference to Mars Ultor, an iteration of the god of Mars during the period of Augustus.

The first track, “Julius Caesar, Dictator,” is by the ambient-industrial project Exsanguinate. The background drone of the song feels like one is being shaken or rattled, with distorted wailing appearing halfway through the track. There is a chilling, 4-beat rhythm that adds a catchyness to the track, giving listeners something to latch onto during the song’s duration. 

“Augustus” by Tugend is the album’s second track. An ambient song with some neo-classical and borderline dungeon synth elements, it sounds like the music one would hear from a church belonging to an apocalyptic cult, with the latter half of the track bringing a fire-and-brimstone drumming to it.

Card of Tiberius / Murderous Vision.

The third track is the ambient “Tiberius” by Murderous Vision. The song begins with a repeating sample “Hey, Caesar” with the background giving way to other, garbled, sampled voices. The gives the track an effect of hearing whispered plots and schemes, and a general uncomfortable vibe, no doubt recreating the feelings of Tiberius’ paranoia.

“Tiberius” is followed by “Gaius (Caligula)” by Bestia Centauri. A droning track with some atonal electronics, it would easily be at home on the Cryo Chamber label.

Card for Claudius / Post Scriptvm.

Post Scriptvm’s “Claudius” is the compilation’s fifth track. An experimental soundscape, the song is sample heavy of crying, weeping, animal baying, and water rustling. The samples sit atop a 1-2 beat that flows through the song, making the song unnerving and ominous while at the same time accessible and easy to latch onto.

The minimal-ambient “Nero” appears to be the only song ever released by The Great Despisers. 

Survival Unit brings the power electronics genre to XII Caesars with their “Year Of Four Emperors (Galba, Otho, Vitellius, Vespasian).” The track is both burbling and bombastic, peppered with muddled samples of speeches and screeches. It is volatile track, definitely mimicking the period of civil war in the Roman Empire. 

“Titus” by Önd is an extremely minimal, experimental song, bordering on a single note being held through the entire duration. 

The last of the twelves Caesars, Domitian, is the compilation’s penultimate track and composed by Axone, the project of Somnambulant Corpse’s owner Chris Donovan. An industrial soundscape song, “Domitian” feels both windswept and grating, like traversing stone tunnels constructed by giant bees.

The final track on XII Caesars is “Epilogue (Ultor)” by Marspiter. An industrial-ambient composition, the song feels like gazing upon a ruined city in the middle of a desert under a dark sky, a last glimpse of what once was.

Insert Back.
CD in tray.

The cover of XII Caesars shows the busts of the twelve emperors in a small, 3×4 grid, with a faint, dark, modern cityscape as the background. Inside the booklet shows a gladius while the CD proper shows the pillars and buildings of Ancient Rome aflame. The presentation proper is akin to the imagery used by VNV Nation during their Empires-era (late 90s/early 2000s). Included with the album is a series of large, double sided postcards, housed in a ziplock bag, each depicting a rendition of different Caesar in a hand drawn style. The entire package evokes both the ornateness and DIY philosophy expressed by small, extreme music labels of the aughts. 

Complete packaging of XII Caesars.

Though ten industrial/ambient/noise artists are showcased on XII Caesars, only a three survive to the present day: Murderous Vision, Post Scriptvm, and Survival Unit (though Exsanguinate appears defunct, the project’s mastermind, Thomas Garrison, continues on prolifically as Control). Post Scriptvm and Stephen Petrus from Murderous Vision have graciously shared their experiences and thoughts about their tracks, providing incredible insight not only into their craft, but of industrialism of the period. 

What is your relationship with antiquity, classics, or (in the case of pop culture) the sword and sandal genre? Are these topics that interest you or influence you in any way?

Murderous Vision: Outside of an affinity for the Jason And The Argonauts film as a child, I don’t have a notable interest in the genre. I do, however, have an interest in all things historical. So, when creating my Tiberius themed contribution, I tried to keep his rule in mind. Something sounding epical, orderly and underlying dread were the things I attempted to execute.

Post Scriptvm: The name of my project, Post Scriptvm, as well as its specific spelling, is inspired by the mid-1970s BBC series I, Claudius, which portrays the early Roman Empire and is narrated by Emperor Claudius. Although my project has consistently been influenced by the ideas and aesthetics of Russian art and literary movements at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, particularly Russian Futurism, I opted for this Latin name because, to me, it implies fin de siècle or the end of an era.

Murderous Vision, photo courtesy of the artist.

Outside niche subgenres such as neofolk and martial industrial, industrial music generally doesn’t dabble in pre-1900s history, let alone antiquity. From your perspective why do you think that is?

Murderous Vision: I think it may be related to the actual sounds of these genres. The instruments used and song structures involved evoke the way one thinks music sounded in these periods. With standard industrial music, the instrumentation is very clearly of the 20th and 21st centuries, and might be sonically incompatible with these historical periods. Authenticity and effectiveness reign.

Post Scriptvm: Many industrial music artists that I particularly appreciate, such as Bad Sector, Werkbund, Internal Fusion, SPK, Inade, among others, find inspiration in ancient mythologies. To me, this makes perfect sense. A 20th-century art critic once observed that the avant-garde serves as a continuation of classical art within modern contexts—an intentional continuation of an ideal that has been lost and ruined. For me, industrial music, particularly its more extreme, dark variety, has always served as a soundtrack to a civilization in steady and catastrophic decline. We primarily grasp, value and interpret antiquity through its ruins entombed within the sterile museum morgues, while a minuscule portion of surviving texts suggests an expansive realm of ideas forever beyond our reach. Industrial music, in parallel, reflects the decay of modern civilization, frequently finding inspiration in the ruins of ancient cultures. By referencing ancient ruins to depict the downfall of our own society, we are essentially shaping our own antiquity.

Post Scriptvm, photo courtesy of the artist.

What was the genesis of your involvement of the XII Caesars compilation?

Murderous Vision: At the time I had a close relationship with Chris Donovan and his label Somnambulant Corpse. I had previously been involved with the label on his Lovecraft themed compilation [note: The Outsider], and released a split CD with his personal project Kuru, called Blood-Brain Barrier. Both of these were released by Somnambulant.

Post Scriptvm: I received an invitation to contribute to the compilation from the owner of the Somnambulant Corpse record label. A couple of years prior to XII Caesars, Somnambulant had issued my debut album [note: Guaze], and I had previously contributed a track to the label’s earlier compilation dedicated to H.P. Lovecraft.

Did you get to select your emperor or was one assigned to you?

Post Scriptvm: The label actually had assigned each artist a Caesar to dedicate a track to, stating that the compilation’s subject matter necessitated a somewhat dictatorial approach.

Murderous Vision: It was assigned to me, based on his personal feeling of which emperor he felt suited the sound of each project he chose to include.

Your track on the compilation, was it an untitled song you had in your repertoire that you submitted or was it a song composed exclusively for the release?

Murderous Vision: It was composed exclusively for his compilation.

Post Scriptvm: For this compilation, I created an entirely new track, incorporating samples from both I, Claudius and the 1979 film Caligula, another one of my favorites.

How did you go about capturing the theme of your respective Caesar and conveying it in your composition?

Murderous Vision: I started by reading what I could online about the history and life of my Caesar. In drafting the sounds I kept in mind that I wanted to use reverbs that would evoke vast marble halls and open ancient stadiums. I recorded everything with a degraded VHS copy of Caligula playing on the TV in the background. 

Post Scriptvm: Apart from incorporating samples from the mentioned films and submerging myself into both The Twelve Caesars by Suetonius and The Roman Empresses by Jacques Roergas De Serviez prior to recording the track, I did not deviate from my typical approach for composing Post Scriptvm tracks at the time. As an undergraduate student back then, I had only rather primitive, rudimentary equipment at my disposal, which, in my view, was well suited for interpreting the ambiance of the ancient Roman Empire.

Going back in time to 2004, what do you recall the reception of the XII Caesars was like?

Murderous Vision: I don’t think it was widely circulated, but deeply appreciated by those who did get one. I seem to remember some favorable reviews circulating. 

Post Scriptvm: The reception was very positive. Despite being a DIY homemade CD-R release, the compilation was sold all over the United States and Europe and received several positive reviews in the underground press. The early 2000s marked the pinnacle for underground industrial music artists and small independent record labels like Somnambulant.

What are your thoughts on the compilation as a whole, from the presentation to the other contributions?

Murderous Vision: I was quite proud of my involvement. The label pulled no punches in the presentation, using high quality artwork and paper stocks to present the art panels, and professionally produced media sealed the deal. Every other act contributed great sound materials. It was a stellar compilation from a golden era that was known for stellar compilations.

Post Scriptvm: It is certainly of its time both in terms of sound production and its distinctly DIY presentation. It’s a wonderful testament to the era when underground experimental music flourished, showcasing the passion and dedication of the record label and every artist involved. Regrettably, the record label and the majority of the artists are no longer active.

Reflecting on your song for the compilation, are there any changes you would’ve made for it? Any thoughts of updating, remastering, or remixing your song and giving it a second life?

Murderous Vision: I think the track was a nice representation of the sound of Murderous Vision in that era. I think it stands as a good representation of both the band and the theme. The version that appears on there was truncated by the label for whatever reason he had at the time. The full, unedited version did, however, appear in 2006 on the Murderous Vision retrospective Ghosts of the Soul Long Lost Volume 1 [Note: listed as “Tiberious (Full Version)”].

Post Scriptvm: If I were to reinterpret that track now, it would have a completely different sound. I prefer directing my attention towards the future rather than dwelling on the past. Nonetheless, having to revisit it would provide me with a compelling reason to reread The Twelve Caesars and The Roman Empresses and to rewatch Caligula and I, Claudius.

Finally, what are some upcoming project news you’d like to share?

Post Scriptvm: My new LP titled Eisstoß is now available on Tesco Organisation, and I have a cassette EP titled Секта set for release in April on DumpsterScore Home Recordings.

Murderous Vision: This year will be another filled with activity. 2024 actually marks thirty years since the inception of the project. Among things that will happen this year are a performance in May supporting longtime friends Awen in NYC. There are a couple special surprises planned for the gig, but one must attend to see what they are! This year will also see the release of a new full length album called Pestilent Black Breath on Germany’s excellent label Dunkelheit Produktionen. Work is also well underway on a retrospective book of reflections on thirty years of Murderous Vision that will be packed with photos, flyers and ephemera from the beginning to present times. The machine chugs on…


Sincere thank you to Stephen Petrus and Post Scriptvm for their time and answers. More information on their projects can be found at the below links:

More information/tickets on the upcoming Awen/Murderous Vision/Autumn Brigade/DSM-III can be found here.

Categories
Interview

Review and Interview: Zeena Schreck and Her Debut Bring Me the Head of F. W. Murnau

During the summer of 2015, the skull of German silent film director F. W. Murnau was stolen from his tomb.1 Remnants of wax from lit candles present at the scene spurred the hypothesis that occult work was afoot while the macabre nature of Murnau’s stolen skull drew parallels to his legendary horror output, in particular his influential expressionist film, Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens (1922).

Shortly thereafter, inspired by the event, multimedia artist Zeena Schreck announced a “sequel to Radio Werewolf’s mystical, musical piece Bring Me the Head of Geraldo Rivera” that would be appropriately titled Bring Me the Head of F. W. Murnau.2 Five years later, Bring Me the Head of F. W. Murnau (BMTHOFWM) was released in March of 2020.

Cover art for Bring Me the Head of F. W. Murnau

BMTHOFWM marks the first studio release proper of Zeena performing music solo. Prior to this EP, Zeena had been a part of many musical collaborations and projects, such as Radio Werewolf, and had released some of her live ritual performances, such as her appearance at Wave-Gotik-Treffen, on compilations and YouTube. Per Zeena in regard to releasing a concept album instead of an album of her ritual performances:

“I definitely have future recording plans which will be in the areas of dark ambient and ritual music. [T]his first solo release was experimental in the sense I’d never done such a precise theme as concept album like this before. I like working within specific parameters though. Even in past recordings, when it might not seem obvious, I’ve almost always had in mind a particular framework within which to create the music. But this album was much more of a specific theme than I would normally do.”3

BMTHOFWM certainly has a thematic laser focus, concentrating on Murnau and some of his films, while capturing a certain silent film aesthetic, though paradoxically, with sound. Zeena pulls this feat off – a silent film with no images but instead with sounds – by incorporating elements of field recordings, minimalist-industrial, exotica, spoken words, and incantations, in conjunction with the brilliant German expressionist/Caligari style artwork that emblazons the release’s cover art that evokes some of the classic horror posters of the era.

Though Murnau is the subject of the EP, the filmmaker did not have a strong influence on Zeena at the beginning of the project:

“[Murnau was] not a huge influence. It was only his films Nosferatu and Faust that I had known and really liked since childhood, when they’d play on late night TV. I knew he’d worked with the occultist artist/architect Albin Grau on the sets for Nosferatu but working with an occultist doesn’t automatically make you one. There is also the tie-in of my last name being the same as the actor who played Count Orlok, Max Schreck, in Murnau’s most famous film Nosferatu. I’d also remembered the scandalous rumors about his untimely death that my godfather Kenneth Anger wrote of in Hollywood Babylon, rumors which, by the way, I’ve since learned weren’t true. But aside from these things, I hadn’t much knowledge of his life prior to embarking on this project. I know far more about him now.

Originally, I’d planned that this [release] was only going to be a single; not more than a two-track novelty piece inspired by a quirky event. But then, as I began researching more about Murnau and put flesh on the bones of this project, certain metaphysical portals started opening up. More material for more tracks developed than could be narrowed down to just a single. Yet I didn’t want this to be a full album either. So, the logical middle ground was to make it an EP.”4

Through the process of researching Murnau, Zeena also visited the director’s home and his grave, gathering field recordings that would be incorporated into the compositions of BMTHOFWM:

“[I] intermingled various sounds from both locations in just about every track except the opening one, ‘Letter to Mother.’ Some of those field recordings were used in a straightforward manner, such as a fox barking, birds singing, the sound of some machinery or a metal gate clanging. Those can be detected fairly clearly enough. But other sounds used, I distorted in the editing to achieve certain auditory effects.

When I visited Murnau’s grave, for the photo shoot to the CD, I was focused on getting the photos but hadn’t intended on capturing field recordings at the same time. I’d already compiled field recordings taken at the former Murnau house in Berlin, which coincidentally happens to be right in my neighborhood. In addition to that, I’d painstakingly searched for specific samples corresponding to the exact years of Murnau’s creative life and his death, such as the sound of the precise year and make of the car he was in when it crashed, leading to his death. Or a snippet of a song that would’ve been popular at parties in Hollywood that he may have attended. Things like that.

Back album art of BMTHOFWM. Photo of Zeena at F. W. Murnau’s grave by Lance Anderson

So, getting back to the cemetery field recordings: It was only by fluke, while taking photos at Murnau’s grave, that my camera accidentally engaged the video record. It wasn’t until later that day, when downloading my data from the day’s shoot, I realized I’d inadvertently gotten some unexpected and pretty interesting sounds while at the grave. Luckily, there was still time to mix those in before the final edit and mastering. For some unknown reason, I’ve always had strange energy clashes with electronic devices; something’s always malfunctioning with them in my case. I’ve come to expect these ‘accidental’ recordings of environment sounds, with both my audio recorder and my cameras video setting. Whenever it happens, I always discover something interesting, humorous or just uncanny and bizarre that gets added to my sound library. This reveals how much is occurring all the time that we humans normally filter out but which, when cut out of the normal flow of everyday life, can be wonderful auditory meditations. I’m sure that those unexpected sounds at the cemetery made a difference in enhancing an underlying eerie quality to the whole thing.”5

Zeena’s field recordings directly tie into her concept of “sonic necromancy.” These field recordings she gathered communicate an additional essence of Murnau that would not have been present otherwise:

“Sound art differs from conventionally composed music in that soundscapes are generally thought to be like paintings done with sound rather than matter. They may or may not necessarily tell a story. In this case, however, there is story. Between many years of magical ritual practices, as well as early-life theater and film training, which includes techniques in character development, sense memory and improvisation, a fusion of disciplined training in all these areas creates conducive conditions for summoning of the dead. While my magical training and ritual experience is probably more generally acknowledged than my theater training, I mention the latter only in relation to this music project because I’m playing various characters or roles throughout. Whether we are hearing Murnau’s own thoughts in the opening and closing tracks, or the female Angel of Death who’s come to usher Murnau away from this worldly experience, or the ‘bardo beings’ who inhabit the intermediate state between the end of one life and the beginning of the next. All of those voices are different characters revealing different levels of metaphysical existence and understanding.”6

If BMTHOFWM sounds like a multifaceted release, it is because it certainly is. Though the EP only contains six tracks and clocks in at roughly eighteen minutes, it is compact in its sound design, atmosphere, and ambitious scope.

The first track of the EP, “Letter to Mother,” has Zeena reciting a letter Murnau wrote to his mother against a background of crashing waves. In this track, Zeena channels her aforementioned acting chops, mimicking a deeper voice that would be Muranu. It is a somber recital that sets a melancholy mood that permeates the release.

Track two, “Ill Omens,” runs with this melancholy with a peppering of something menacing or foreboding. It is a track that is minimal on sound, but high on atmosphere. Closing one’s eyes, one can picture an old film with a scene of tiptoeing through a cave or a dimly lit forest, illuminated day-for-night style, while a Harryhausen-esque monster waiting to emerge from the shadows.

The third track, “A Drive up the Coast,” chronicles the last moments of Murnau as he died in an auto accident while traversing the Pacific Coast Highway near Santa Barbara in 1931. The track begins jovial, with organ music composed by Zeena that evokes a funfair or a period appropriate party in the background. Sounds of an open car window woosh by before (spoiler alert!) the sounds of accelerations, followed by a scream, tires screeching, and a crash.

Track four, “Tabu,” is a reference to Murnau’s final film, Tabu: A Story of the South Seas (1931) that was released shortly after his death. An early tiki film, the story depicts two lovers, Reri and Matahi, as they try to escape Reri’s fate of being made into a sacred maiden for their island’s deities. The first half of the song is the most industrial-sounding music on the EP, with some minimalist piston-percussions. The last half of the song switches gears to the exotica genre, with primitive drumming and shakers, that channels the likes of Martin Denny and Les Baxter. Over the music, Zeena, reaching into her experience of performing incantations, recites the same decree that was uttered in Tabu that denoted Reri as forbidden, and not to be touched by any man.

“The Phantom Bridge” is the EP’s fifth track and this one digs right into the vampiric roots Murnau is best known for. A spoken word track, Zeena recites some of the inter titles from Murnau’s Nosferatu which in turn were taken from Stoker’s Dracula. The music in this track is, as the title suggests, ghostly, with spirituals wisps, shackling noises, tiny bells and chimes.

The EP’s final track, “Endlich Daheim,” is perhaps the most ambitious track on the album, that not only underscores Murnau’s career, but demonstrates Zeena at her most artistic. Prior songs on the EP has Zeena reciting texts from other sources while “Endlich Daheim” contains both original organ music and lyrics by Zeena, sung in a haunting and beautiful style. A sound of a 1920s projector starting up beings the track with the music proper evoking the feelings of being at a funeral – Murnau’s funeral – with Zeena’s poetry acting as a eulogy.

Zeena at F. W. Murnau’s grave by Lance Anderson.

The end result is that BMTHOFWM is a superb solo debut for Zeena and an excellent experimental release all around. Atmospheric, haunting, and magical, but also cinematic and fully versed in filmic pop culture that it celebrates. Born from a macabre act of stealing the skull of Murnau, the EP easily could’ve embraced grotesquery or morbidness, but instead the CD comes off as sincere. Aside from these observations, Zeena herself had her own goals for the release:

“Well, after a few years of unexpected obstacles, as well as unexpected serendipitous occurrences which led to creating much more material for this than I’d originally planned, I guess the main thing I wanted to accomplish was getting it completed at all! Jokes aside, the fact is, there’s still someone out there who has taken and kept the skull from Murnau’s grave. This is at the heart of the project. I wanted to pull all of the unusual elements surrounding this case together into one cohesive creative expression. The music in this project is created to facilitate opening the mind to all possible questions surrounding that event, and even to, on a transcendental and metaphysical level, provide even bigger answers.”7

Five years after the act, the mystery of who absconded with Murnau’s skull remains unsolved. Of course, thoughts have drifted to Schreck as a possible culprit, which she both playfully and adamantly dismisses: “[S]ince many have already jokingly asked me – let’s nip this in the bud right here – NO, it wasn’t me!”8

Artistic composition of Zeena.

Sincere thanks for Zeena Schreck for allowing me to interview her for this writeup and providing the images. All images used in this article are copyrighted by Zeena Schreck and used with permission. More information about Zeena and her projects can be found at the following websites and social medias:


Endnotes

  1. Nigel M Smith, “Nosferatu director’s head stolen from grave in Germany,” The Guardian, last modified July 14, 2015, https://www.theguardian.com/film/2015/jul/14/nosferatu-director-head-stolen-germany-grave-fw-murnau.
  2. “Coming Soon From Zeena Schreck: Bring Me The Head of F.W. Murnau,” Heathen Harvest, last modified July 21, 2015, https://heathenharvest.wordpress.com/2015/07/21/coming-soon-from-zeena-schreck-bring-me-the-head-of-f-w-murnau/.
  3. Zeena Schreck, email message to author, June 16, 2020.
  4. Ibid.
  5. Ibid.
  6. Ibid.
  7. Ibid.
  8. Ibid.

Bibliography

“Coming Soon From Zeena Schreck: Bring Me The Head of F.W. Murnau.” Heathen Harvest. Last modified July 21, 2015. https://heathenharvest.wordpress.com/2015/07/21/coming-soon-from-zeena-schreck-bring-me-the-head-of-f-w-murnau/.

Schreck, Zeena. Bring me the Head of F. W. Murnau. KCH KCHCD01. 2020. CD.

Smith, Nigel M. “Nosferatu director’s head stolen from grave in Germany.” The Guardian. Last modified July 14, 2015. https://www.theguardian.com/film/2015/jul/14/nosferatu-director-head-stolen-germany-grave-fw-murnau.