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Rock - Progressive Rock | Madison, Wisconsin, United States
Total Song Plays: 2,735   
Member Since: 2005
   Last Login: 7/31/2021
   Sounds Like: Black Sabbath, Porcupine Tree

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Antho rules the Internet

Anthony Del Ciello currently resides in Janesville, WI, also known as the center of all activity in America. He writes many songs, sometimes just riffs, on guitar, bass, and keys. Gear includes a Schecter C-1 Elite and a Schecter Omen 6 electric guitar, a Line 6 Flextone 2 HD through a Sonic 4x12 cabinet, two Audio-Technica Condenser mics, a Shure SM57, a Korg Triton, and a Lexicon Omega recording system running into Cakewalk Sonar Producer Edition 5...

Music style is rooted in heavy metal, with explorations into other styles

Centers- an essay by me

The evangelist, to me, is perhaps the saddest being imaginable. Constantly feeding his or her fears, all under the guise of a spiritual freedom that only becomes clear at the end of life. In this, the evangelist lives a lifetime of death, empowered by living demons. The mind is entrapped, surrounded by a sort of undefined purpose. All roads, however beautiful and serene, lead to the right hand path, wrought with a demanding mission. In essence, one walks along the very edge of a suspended bridge, convinced that this leads to a seperate destination than the bridge's center would. For whatever reason, spiritual or animal, the bridge's trusty center is inconceivable.

In accordance with the natural presence of the yin and yang, the left edge of our metaphorical bridge will not prove any sturdier than the right. The right side will not exist without its left side, and vice versa. We can narrow the bridge, but the right and left edges remain, simply pared down to accomodate each others' new dimensions. The right needs the left, the black needs the white, the conservative needs the liberal, the old needs the young, and the God needs the Devil. Neither side, however clearly defined, ever bothers to conceive of the middle. The edge, be it left or right, offers far too much stimulation. Thus our busy, demanding sadness thrives.