It’s 12:30 p.m. You wake up, and at 1:30 p.m. you roll out of bed and turn on the radio, then open your local newspaper to check the HELP WANTED adverts. During breakfast, you turn on the television to catch a few minutes of the 24-hour news shows. School shootings. Higher taxes. Immigrants being treated badly. The price of milk has risen considerably. You turn it off quickly, filled with a sense of dread after seeing the latest disappointments the human race has to offer you. Shortly thereafter, you take the bus to roam aimlessly around the megalopolis, collect your UBI check, and contemplate on how to find meaning in your sad excuse of a life. While riding, you decide to escape the routine by listening to THE EXILE HOUR on your iPhone 19.
As you look out of the window at the sea of LCD billboards on the highways that you pass by, the voices of Caleb Jackson Dills and Evan Philip Lipson act as a safety blanket, lulling you into a TRUE sense of security. You hardly notice the dilapidated high-rises and superstructures you are zooming past as you are whisked away into the nightscape that is THE EXILE HOUR. Tonight’s guest has done something his mother probably is not too proud of, and you are finding yourself relating just a little too easily. In fact, you have more in common with this guy than every co-worker you have had over the span of your insignificant life. You excitedly nod along, enthralled at the places you are able to travel while remaining stationary. In fact, you are so captivated you miss your stop. Another hour added to your commute, but you do not mind in the slightest. Next stop: THE EXILE HOUR.
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It’s 12:30 p.m. You wake up, and at 1:30 p.m. you roll out of bed and turn on the radio, then open your local newspaper to check the HELP WANTED adverts. During breakfast, you turn on the television to catch a few minutes of the 24-hour news shows. School shootings. Higher taxes. Immigrants being treated badly. The price of milk has risen considerably. You turn it off quickly, filled with a sense of dread after seeing the latest disappointments the human race has to offer you. Shortly thereafter, you take the bus to roam aimlessly around the megalopolis, collect your UBI check, and contemplate on how to find meaning in your sad excuse of a life. While riding, you decide to escape the routine by listening to THE EXILE HOUR on your iPhone 19.
As you look out of the window at the sea of LCD billboards on the highways that you pass by, the voices of Caleb Jackson Dills and Evan Philip Lipson act as a safety blanket, lulling you into a TRUE sense of security. You hardly notice the dilapidated high-rises and superstructures you are zooming past as you are whisked away into the nightscape that is THE EXILE HOUR. Tonight’s guest has done something his mother probably is not too proud of, and you are finding yourself relating just a little too easily. In fact, you have more in common with this guy than every co-worker you have had over the span of your insignificant life. You excitedly nod along, enthralled at the places you are able to travel while remaining stationary. In fact, you are so captivated you miss your stop. Another hour added to your commute, but you do not mind in the slightest. Next stop: THE EXILE HOUR.
“Any effort which helps the powerful will be elevated and amplified, while any effort which inconveniences them falls into an empty void.” -Caitlin Johnstone
“The degree to which I want violence in my art is inversely proportional to how much I want it in my life.” -NN
NN (c. 1970) is a self-described “psychedelic gangster”; an untamed sexual psychonaut and holy war occultist who has cheated death more times than even he can recall. Operating consistently at or beyond what most would likely regard as being the extreme fringes of society, he began his non-career as a pre-internet non-commercial amateur pornographer, quickly realizing that there are some very real and less than fortunate consequences that can (and do) occur as a direct result of flowing either against or apart from the societal infrastructures of power and officialdom.
Despite being met with varying degrees of resistance, NN fearlessly continued to defy conventions of logic, humor, and taste as well as the bounds of legality itself, most often in the guise of music. His work typically operates within his two favored idioms of “modern classical death metal” and “psychedelic noisecore” (perhaps most notably with bands such as To Live and Shave in L.A., To Live and Shave in L.A. 2, and Hatewave). Nevai went on to further develop and refine his own forms of what he refers to as KLASSIKILL, AKTION, and DANGER MUSIC.
On this episode of The Exile Hour we throw back more than a few with Nevai and discuss matters related to his uniquely hallucinogenic worldview, as well as his recent four (potentially five)-part deluxe CD digi-book series "The Price of Frontier." The books—which include outlandish personal tales as well as intensely bold/lurid photographs, letters, graphics, and illustrations—function as part memoir and part audio archive documenting his sundry musical releases spanning over three decades (each book contains four full-length CDs). The varied musings, rumblings, and howlings of a nomadic outsider—the kind which only this strange, beautiful, and high-stakes gamble of a country/empire can seemingly produce.
One of the primary subjects that run through the series is the occult initiatory organization known as REDACTED; a satanic Crowleyan deep state government. One of the main organizations that NN believes to be REDACTED (the other being the REDACTED). NN currently resides in a secluded compound somewhere in upstate New York. Buckle up and prepare to go over the edge of sobriety and sanity itself. . .
The Exile Hour
It’s 12:30 p.m. You wake up, and at 1:30 p.m. you roll out of bed and turn on the radio, then open your local newspaper to check the HELP WANTED adverts. During breakfast, you turn on the television to catch a few minutes of the 24-hour news shows. School shootings. Higher taxes. Immigrants being treated badly. The price of milk has risen considerably. You turn it off quickly, filled with a sense of dread after seeing the latest disappointments the human race has to offer you. Shortly thereafter, you take the bus to roam aimlessly around the megalopolis, collect your UBI check, and contemplate on how to find meaning in your sad excuse of a life. While riding, you decide to escape the routine by listening to THE EXILE HOUR on your iPhone 19.
As you look out of the window at the sea of LCD billboards on the highways that you pass by, the voices of Caleb Jackson Dills and Evan Philip Lipson act as a safety blanket, lulling you into a TRUE sense of security. You hardly notice the dilapidated high-rises and superstructures you are zooming past as you are whisked away into the nightscape that is THE EXILE HOUR. Tonight’s guest has done something his mother probably is not too proud of, and you are finding yourself relating just a little too easily. In fact, you have more in common with this guy than every co-worker you have had over the span of your insignificant life. You excitedly nod along, enthralled at the places you are able to travel while remaining stationary. In fact, you are so captivated you miss your stop. Another hour added to your commute, but you do not mind in the slightest. Next stop: THE EXILE HOUR.
