one man black metal band from minnesota who plays microtonal guitars. song titles such as, 'the central fires of secret memory' and, 'your blood and soil are piss and shit'. an album title that, of course, refers to a psychological state resulting from suppressed feelings of envy and hatred which cannot be expressed. i need not say more.
_mink nun
only cd i've ever heard and perhaps only cd that i ever will hear that apes the music of bloody panda and does so with aplomb. excellent record. crushing.
_alibi
seriously if mustachioed aliens ain't your thing then i got nothing.
_mink nun
_ultra gash
_ultra gash
_mink nun
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_mink nun
_dj chemical peel
In 9th grade I knew this kid named Chris. Chris was home schooled until high school, hence showing up the third or fourth day of 9th grade. Chris' parents weren't right wing hate mongers like most who decide to home school. They were Universal Unitarian or some flavor thereof. They drove a Volvo wagon and didn't eat “processed” food. Chris' mom didn't wear shoes and had hair down to her waist. Chris had a hard time relating to other kids. Beyond being bullied. Kids were distant South Pacific Islanders to him. Aliens even. Honestly, he could barely relate to teachers. I felt bad his parents threw him into the shark tank of public high school. I'll bet they thought it was character building. Chris liked Japanese futuristic robot cartoons and strategy games. Not Transformers as he'd correct us, but Robo Tech and such. He hadn't actually watched a cartoon that wasn't in a foreign language. Some months later I found out Chris had band. They played the community center. They were a trio. Somehow Chris had found the other two far out dudes in the 100 mile radius. The drummer clearly had a Neil Peart fetish, it was never actually clear if there was an actual person behind the kit the entire 20 minute set. He was a senior at the high school the next town over. He ran a Star Wars fan page back in the 28.8 internet days. The bass player had bass that was all soft curves and too many strings, 5 or 8 or such. He had a ponytail and looked distinctly older. He'd worked at the video game shop at the mall long enough to be the manager. And Chris. Chris had a B.C. Rich Warlock and an off brand 2x12 combo amp. The kind purchased at the local music store where old hippies buy strings and sell their Stratocasters when they “grow out of that phase”. They melted my face off. It was touching the hand of God. It was the last scene in Raiders of The Lost Ark where all the Nazis melt when the open the Ark. It was whale songs. Nothing before was relevant, nothing thereafter was the same. They released 3 songs in a Real Audio format on the bass dude's Star Wars page and promptly disappeared. In 200 years from now, the civilization that builds itself on the remains of our culture will erect statues to these guys and high priestesses will conduct maturation ceremonies to the music they created together.
dj lionshead
