Tag Archives: Eko Eko Azarak

  1. J.F.C. Fuller and the Black Arts


    June 24, 2013 by weekiwitch


    Recently, I was doing some light research on the history of the classic “Eko, Eko, Azarak” chant. After some digging, I finally found a copy of it’s original source and thought I’d share. The chant comes from a beautiful article entitled “The Black Arts” by J.F.C. Fuller (1921). Where Fuller got it, who knows…if you have any info on that front, please feel free to pass it my way.

    “Eko, Eko, Azarak” has become somewhat ubiquitous since 1921, exploding into many and varied forms from it’s use in “High Magic’s Aid,” into the 1970’s and onwards. Many people have put forth theories on meanings and linguistic origins, but none so far that I give any serious credence to.

    This chant has long held a real fascination for me. I am completely enamored with it, not only for it’s weird history but because it feels powerful to me, and not something I employ without care.

    It is often paired with lines from the play, Le Miracle de Théophile (such as “Bazabi lacha bachabe”), or has “Eko, eko, Cernunnos/Aradia” tacked on the end. However, I prefer it in it’s original, unedited form.

    The article in question, “The Black Arts,” has this to say about it:

    In the Middle Ages of Christian rule did once again the spirit of man break the shackles which bound him, and it broke them by an
    alliance with Satan. Mad, if not insane, would the sorcerer creep
    forth to some heath or grove, far away from monastery or church,
    and, bereft of his senses through the gloom of those desolate places,
    would he shriek to the stars:

    Eko! eko! Azarak. Eko! eko! Zomelak!
    Zod-ru-kod e Zod-ru-koo
    Zod-ru-koz e Goo-ru-moo!
    Eo! Eo! Oo … Oo … Oo!

    Though the words be different, it is the same chant of the Assyrian
    seer, for it is the conjuration of freedom, freedom which was to
    beget the arts and sciences of today, that consciousness which, though latent, was unconsciousness when these words were uttered. They were the love murmurings of a new betrothal.

    Fuller could write, I am besotted by this. The whole thing is beautifully done. So for posterity, here’s the rest of the article: **CLICK HERE**



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