
Phangle's life as an entity was little more than a brief convulsion. Born amidst physical and mental decay, it clung to life for a few short years surrounding the dawn of the 21st century before releasing its host to other pursuits. The reclusive artist Killion, sole party responsible for the granular synthesis, treated percussion, and psychic regression that comprised Phangle, has since returned to the hopeless anonymity of the post-industrial rust belt.
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12 to the Head
Memory
Death May Die
Consumed
Confession
The Arms of Decay
Rot
Strang13
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