Black Heroin Gallery

Ascending from the subterranean bowels of the Hollywood underground, like some decrepit zombie bent on revenge, post punk/deathrock ambassadors Black Heroin Gallery lament the slow death of earth, whilst anticipating its forthcoming debut on German label Alice In entitled “The Dreadful Dead Of Hoop Snake Hollow.” It's been a rather trudging journey thus far. Fraught with tedium and rancor, but the never surrendering tenacity of chief songwriter/mastermind/vocalist Eyajo December Joseph has finally culminated with the realization of this dark gift.

Often described as a wayward synthesis of Shadow Project, The Virgin Prunes, Bauhaus, The Velvet Underground, Alien Sex Fiend, Cinema Strange and Sopor Aeternus, BHG. serves it's acolytes a musical and lyrical blood offering hexed by the omens of tinsel town drama, deceased friends, deterioration of youth, financial ineptitude, lost love and rituals gone awry. But, not all is lost to the cemetery of reality. For fanciful tales unfurl from the dire pen of December, unleashing mystifying haiku of veritable genius, the likes of which haven't been realized since the dawn of Tolkien.

Dastardly deeds are expressed as well as inflicted upon treacherous characters like skeletal octopuses, mermaids, Kentucky backwoods medicine men, elephant girls and all manner of archaic circus sideshow oddities. Imagination is essential once immersed in the incendiary realms of BHG, and their musical aptitude is no fallacy either, brimming with minor chord dirges and hallucinations, tribal expulsions recalling primal man, six string modulations that burrow like sandpaper ripping skin, marvelous bass lines and uniquely bizarre vocals designed to divide opinion.

On offer is a veritable smorgasbord of macabre lullabies. For instance, the somber frailty and serene melancholy of "His Beautiful Darkness", which somehow marries The Doors with Fleetwood Mac. “Worm Prince of Black Toad Hollow” Takes you deep into the forest for a stroll and while you marvel at the secret flowers that surround you, something without pause, rips out your soul! The pure, unadulterated, raging death punk of "I Walk Alone To My Grave" and "Twitching Dead Things" a treat indeed, littered with confounding time signatures and flurries of combatant force. Yes, it is infested with venomous ire and simultaneously breathtaking beauty.

New life requires the immersion of fresh blood as 2016 welcomes agile guitarist Kris Fantominto the decadent bosom of Black Heroin Gallery lore. Shearing the percussion is maniacal juggernautTony F. Corpse (Willow Wisp, Salems Lott) and providing the black heart of rhythm is one Kevin Desolate.

Strange occurrences are afoot and history shall be reconstructed to the liking of the rebellious miscreants. Fire burns brightly within our mordant souls and Black Heroin Gallery is primed to reap the rewards of non-wavering freaks and fallacies. World, you have been warned.

Bio by Edgar Morrison

https://blackheroingallery.bandcamp.com/

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