WILT has been the main project of James P. Keeler (sometimes solo, sometimes with others) since 1998. Keeler is a graphic designer, visual artist, writer, and multi-instrumentalist, all of it dark always, and as WILT, they rightfully refer to themselves as "Masters of Depression and Decay".

Although they have had their work referred to as "noise ambient" or sometimes simply "dark noise", which is poignant enough, WILT are especially nuanced. Keeler has collaborated with some heavy-hitters; Cornucopia, Skin Crime, Gruntsplatter, The Rita, and Prurient, to name a few, but it's hard to compare their brand of industrial-infused, "bleakened" noise, in addition to what often, if we're honest, inevitably traverses "horror soundtrack" territory, to anything else.

"Horror" alone wouldn't be sufficient, because what goes on here blows a lot of midi keyboard warriors out of the water, by sheer range and depth. To call this work "dark ambient" would understate the attention to detail and texture that permeates most of WILT's work, even when it is itself ostensibly minimalist and understated.

After 25 years, WILT continue to not only reinvent the wheel, but show that there is an ongoing intellect and subtlety to their widely cast, yet intricate web of perpetually evolving sound. With "Crypt Gloom", an unmistakably gothic trajectory continues on into the mist of coffin-smoke synths and foggy swamp organs. - Label Description

Part Three in a trilogy inspired by the poetry of Percy Bysshe Shelley. Part One is "A Deep Reflecting Gloom" and Part Two is "Crypt Hymns".

"Crypt Gloom, is on an unmistakably gothic trajectory that crawls into the mist of coffin-smoke synths and foggy swamp organs. Droning dirges and gothic architectures.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, was an early 19th Century English poet who risked "political and religious libel" for his atheist/materialist philosophical views in his time." - Avo Zylo

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The Dirge
BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Old winter was gone
In his weakness back to the mountains hoar,
And the spring came down
From the planet that hovers upon the shore
Where the sea of sunlight encroaches
On the limits of wintry night;—
If the land, and the air, and the sea,
Rejoice not when spring approaches,
We did not rejoice in thee,
Ginevra!

She is still, she is cold
On the bridal couch,
One step to the white deathbed,
And one to the bier,
And one to the charnel—and one, oh where?
The dark arrow fled
In the noon.

Ere the sun through heaven once has rolled,
The rats in her heart
Will have made their nest,
And the worms be alive in her golden hair,
While the Spirit that guides the sun,
Sits throned in his flaming chair,
She shall sleep.

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To the Moon
BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

I
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth, —
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?"

II
Thou chosen sister of the Spirit,
That gazes on thee till in thee it pities ...

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Remorse
BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

AWAY! the moor is dark beneath the moon,
Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even:
Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon,
And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.
Pause not! the time is past! Every voice cries, 'Away!'
Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle mood:
Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay:
Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.

Away, away! to thy sad and silent home;
Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth;
Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come,
And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.
The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head,
The blooms of dewy Spring shall gleam beneath thy feet:
But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead,
Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou and peace, may meet.

The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose,
For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep;
Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows;
Whatever moves or toils or grieves hath its appointed sleep.
Thou in the grave shalt rest:—yet, till the phantoms flee,
Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile,
Thy remembrance and repentance and deep musings are not free
From the music of two voices, and the light of one sweet smile.

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Dark Spirit of the Desart Rude
BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Dark Spirit of the desart rude
That o'er this awful solitude,
Each tangled and untrodden wood,
Each dark and silent glen below,
Where sunlight's gleamings never glow,
Whilst jetty, musical and still,
In darkness speeds the mountain rill;
That o'er yon broken peaks sublime,
Wild shapes that mock the scythe of time,
And the pure Ellan's foamy course,
Wavest thy wand of magic force;
Art thou yon sooty and fearful fowl
That flaps its wing o'er the leafless oak
That o'er the dismal scene doth scowl
And mocketh music with its croak?

I've sought thee where day's beams decay
On the peak of the lonely hill,
I've sought thee where they melt away
By the wave of the pebbly rill;
I've strained to catch thy murky form
Bestride the rapid and gloomy storm;
Thy red and sullen eyeball's glare
Has shot, in a dream, thro' the midnight air
But never did thy shape express
Such an emphatic gloominess.

And where art thou, O thing of gloom? ...
On Nature's unreviving tomb
Where sapless, blasted and alone
She mourns her blooming centuries gone!-
From the fresh sod the Violets peep,
The buds have burst their frozen sleep,
Whilst every green and peopled tree
Is alive with Earth's sweet melody.
But thou alone art here,
Thou desolate Oak, whose scathed head
For ages has never trembled,
Whose giant trunk dead lichens bind
Moaningly sighing in the wind,
With huge loose rocks beneath thee spread,
Thou, Thou alone art here!
Remote from every living thing,
Tree, shrub or grass or flower,
Thou seemest of this spot the King
And with a regal power
Suck like that race all sap away
And yet upon the spoil decay.

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The Waning Moon
BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

And like a dying lady, lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The moon arose up in the murky East,
A white and shapeless mass.

REVIEWS

"I have shared a stage with Wilt five times in my life. All events were on US soil, and I always get a big smile on my face when people talk about the event on February 23rd 2002, in Chicago. It was like the event 'everybody attended' who was in the vicinity of Chicago as well as people who happened to be visiting. Yes, Wilt and I go a bit back, and I think it's the relationship where you perhaps don't talk or interact a lot, but you have a lot of respect for each other. During the 2003 dates, James invited us, and we visited a sculpture garden together. Happy memories for two depressed noise heads doing what they do best: Thinking, talking, connecting and then just "being".

Wilt has been active since 1998 and has - since then - released around 100 titles. He is best known for his noisy approach to dark ambience. The noise can sometimes be quite in-yer-face - no wonder if you also collaborate with people like Cornucopia, Skin Crime, Gruntsplatter, The Rita and Prurient - and at moments, it's super minimal. "Crypt Gloom" is, without a doubt, a release to be added to the second/minimal approach list. The sound here is dark, filled with reverb decay and tells a story: It films in a way we can again re-use the 00's term Cinematic Isolationism and when mixed without the silences it could have been a horror movie by Cronenberg.

The inspiration for this third part of a trilogy - parts one and two being released on Self Abuse "A Deep Reflecting Gloom" and "Crypt Hymns" - is the poetry of Percy Bysshe Shelley. He was an early 19th Century English poet who risked 'political and religious libel' for his atheist/materialist philosophical views in his time. Listening to this soundtrack for that era, those must have been some dark times... Really dark... (BW)"

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"If you are unfamiliar with Wilt, it is the work of Illinois-based artist James Keeler, who is also the man behind the Organic Conversations label, along with several other projects. Wilt has often been described as "dark noise," and his Bandcamp bio describes it as "Earthen Textures x Depression Ambient x Scarecrow Electronics" and refer to themselves as "Masters of Depression and Decay." I have been listening to Wilt for a long time now, and one thing that I enjoy about his work is his uncanny ability to create atmosphere and emotion, while skirting the line between dark ambient and noise (and often crossing over into both). The label states that "'Crypt Gloom' is Part Three in a trilogy inspired by the poetry of Percy Bysshe Shelley, an early 19th Century English poet who risked "political and religious libel" for his atheist/materialist philosophical views in his time. Part One of WILT's trilogy is "A Deep Reflecting Gloom" and Part Two is "Crypt Hymns", both released on cassette by Self Abuse Records." I had previously reviewed "A Deep Reflecting Gloom" and "Crypt Hymns," and really enjoyed them, so let's see where Wilt takes us this time.

"An Opera of Failures" opens the disc with a slow, simple synth line that is at times interrupted with clattering metal, like someone is throwing around garbage cans in the alleyway behind the building. The solemnity of the synth line and the chaotic bits provide an entry point to show how the rest of the disc will go. Indeed, solemnity is the name of the game here, but you already figured that out with a disc named "Crypt Gloom," right? "The Worm That Gnaws" keeps this slow, plodding synth work going, but once we come to "A Council of Demons (Frozen Abyss Mix)," we seem to actually enter the crypt with windblown atmosphere and snippets of noise that keep it all interesting. "Cave and Ruin (Saducismus Triumphatus Mix)" returns us to the simple synth line with subdued noisy atmosphere, but where "Opera of Failures" was mostly synth with bits of noise, this one is mostly quiet noise with bits of synth. This is by no means wall of noise harsh noise. Rather, this is noise used strategically as a way to build tension through dissonance. "The Burden of Gravitational Constants" Keeps the funeral dirge marching on until we come to three mixes of "Hybrid Dreams." The first of these is "A City of Stark Desolation Mix," which opens with what sounds like a grandfather clock tolling out the hours and some crackling, rumbling noise wells up. Toward the end, the grandfather clock becomes increasingly ominous and jarring. "Ash Mix" ditches the clock motif to focus on the heavy bass drone and crackling static. Once again, the noise elements are subdued, but the bass drone is much more intense than in previous tracks. Where previous tracks were much more sparse, in this mix Wilt builds layers on layers to give a sense of weight to the track. These are the sounds of a radio tuned between stations during an earthquake. By now, you are probably wondering where all of the noise is. "Metamorphosis Mix" has you covered. This is chaotic and rumbling noise with voice that has been distorted beyond all recognition buried deep in the mix. Still, like the rest of the album this is not wall of noise, but rather crafted with some breathing room. As such, the three mixes serve as a kind of crescendo through the tracks, increasing in heaviness and noisiness. "Ash Stained Lamps" dials it back a bit, striking a fine balance between cicada-like buzzing static, tectonic rumbling, and droning synth atmosphere. We end with the longest track on the disc, "Among the Moss with Hollow Harmony," which weighs in at 21:25. If the previous tracks were the funeral dirges and the calamites that brought them forth, this is the dull pain of the still living who must move forward without their now departed loved ones. This is rumbling, static infused noise with bits of clanking metal and droning machinery. But as with the rest of the album, there are no sudden movements here. The track moves fluidly, giving it an almost peaceful, hypnotic feel.

If you have heard some of the noisier output of Wilt, this will seem quite tame in comparison, nor is this as complex as some of his other works. But this is not due to some kind of laziness. Rather, Keeler being the designer that he is (yes, that is his day job) realizes that sometimes less is more and that simplicity can sometimes be the correct answer. When I reviewed "A Deep Reflecting Gloom," I described it as "Not calm enough to be dark ambient, and not noisy enough to be noise," and this falls into the same category. If the line between categories is what you are looking for, you will find it here. - Chain DLK"

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