The devil, that ancient figure draped in fire and fury, is less a monster lurking in the dark than a reflection of the baser impulses that live inside every one of us. He is the embodiment of our temptation, our greed, our violent hunger for more than what we deserve. The devil isn’t an outsider, but the whisper in our own ear, the force that drives us to betray, to deceive, to tear down the good in search of fleeting satisfaction. He is the embodiment of envy, the raw itch for power, the desire to watch the world burn when it refuses to bend to our will. His horns and tail are merely symbols of that reckless part of our soul that revels in chaos, destruction, and selfish desire. In truth, he lives within us, a reminder that we’re all capable of surrendering to the darker corners of our nature.
Austin’s minimal synth outfit Flesh of Morning confronts the raw, relentless impulses lurking within with their new track, The Devil in Me. It’s a chilling anthem, pulsing with eerie intensity, and serves as the backdrop to Z.H. Williams’ unsettling short horror film.
In The Devil in Me, the band dives headlong into the jagged edges of human nature, using the devil as a stand-in for the darker urges we all harbor. It doesn’t speak of evil in lofty, abstract terms but roots it in the mundane—fear, paranoia, and extremism. These are the forces that twist reality, pushing us toward decisions born of desperation or desire. Flesh of Morning lays it bare: this devil isn’t a figure in the distance, but a force we confront in ourselves each day. Temptation, weakness, the hunger for control—it’s all there, just beneath the surface. The song digs into the timeless struggle between human frailty and the consequences of surrendering to our worst instincts. Flesh of Morning taps into the core of that tension, bringing it to life in a haunting, electrified dance between good and evil.
The music video, directed by Z.H. Williams, plunges into the eerie heart of Americana horror, drawing from the hysteria of the 1980s satanic panic that swept through small-town America. Set against the pastoral landscape of a real farm in Elgin, Texas, the video juxtaposes the simplicity of rural life with the ominous shadows of fear, paranoia, and conspiracy. Williams delivers a biting satire on the rise of fringe figures like Alex Jones and the role public access TV played in fueling societal anxieties. These figures, with their media-fueled paranoia, tapped into the deepest cultural fears, turning the mundane into something monstrous.
The project carries an added punch with a cameo from local cult horror filmmaker Kirk Hunter, famous for his outlandish films like Blood of the Barn Llama. A mentor to Faiza Kracheni, Hunter is a pivotal figure in Austin’s analog filmmaking scene. His appearance in the video is more than just a nod—it’s a tribute to the DIY horror and public access culture that thrived in that era, a world where low-budget filmmaking and fringe ideologies found an unsettling union. The video reflects how these conspiracy figures and DIY filmmakers shaped, and continue to shape, American cultural anxieties.
Watch the video for ‘The Devil in Me” below:
You can listen to The Devil In Me at the link below and order here.
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