27 November, 2012

Chthuul'enu Thtuff!

This post is for Steve out in Cali who warmed my heart like a little chicken nugget left out in the sun when he said: "Update the Dower already!"

Family, I've been working. Plus school. But really I'm Sorry. Don't sweat it, though. I'm here.

But here is some really cool stuff from a new band up in Quebec I found over at the Modern Sounds of Death blog. 

They're called CHTHE'ILIST, a two piece from, like I said, Quebecois. This is their three song (plus an intro) demo from this year. Can't wait to hear a full length from these guys and then to go on to own and consume it over and over again when I'm in the mood for crazy, legit. scary DM in the insalubrious vein of Mitochondrion, Rippikoulu Longstalkings, Etc Macabre. CHTHE'ILIST - which I can type without looking at, just like Rippikoulu, Pestilence Malleus Maleficarum, De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas, and a ton of other stuff that's really actually only band names and records or song titles - but these guys are so obscure that Googling "Chthe'ilist" yields basically nothing. They do have a Facebook, though, as you should know if you're a careful clicker. Vox are my favorite part, but the tunes are gnar2. Total refuse!

Chthe'ilist Amechth'ntaas'm'rriachth

(thanks to MSOD for the link)

10 November, 2012

Trash Night.

Trash Night
by Dutch Pearce

I drive my truck beside them while Æton rides in the bed and films. It was Pall’s idea to affix a flood light to the side. Raze went to Home Depot and flat walked out with a battery-operated one. Then sold it to Pall for twenty-five bucks. Then decided that it should be filmed in night vision. All green with glowing eyes, while my truck blasts “Big Rock Candy Mountain” on repeat, Pall and Raze are setting out to film their first DethSpot tape. It was Pall’s idea to film a split. Not because he wanted to ride Raze’s steeze, but because he rode better with Raze around. He fed off Raze’s steeze, excreted it as his own. Raze is brain dead when he rides. No more aware than his steel. One of those rare types. Born to shred. Has so much control it’s like his steel is a part of him.  He 180 busdrivers then half-cabs a fell trash can. It was Raze’s idea to go out on trash night. Said it’d be cool if it was just like normal, like how they ride all the time. Said he didn’t wanna put on any kinda show. He’d do it so long as it was real and not like set up. Pall agreed. He always agrees. Their steel even agrees. Pall’s steel is all white, except for the tires. Death rides a pale horse he likes to say. Raze’s ride is all black. Flat black. Has never said why. They both ride trve. No brakes, no pegs. Knobby dirt tire on the front, ramp rubber on the back. 30 teeth for Raze ‘cause he likes to fly. He’s a banshee as he hops to manuals a ledge that Pall probably thinks he’s bangin’ out by icepicking. And really he is! But Raze, man. No one ride’s like Raze. But they're still just cruising at this point. Æton knocks on the rear window and his mouth is hanging open. I fork my eyes out at him and he complies and trains the camera back on Raze and Pall just as Pall vaders some house’s front stoop. Raze is way ahead. Hopping standing trash cans, tucking his steel all up in his guts. Pall cranks hard and Æton misses Raze blast a turndown off a miniscule tree root. Raze is a shadow in the headlights of my truck. I punch it and catch up. Leave Pall glowing red in my tail lights. It’s deep in the night. A German Shepherd comes bawling up to a chain link fence. Its tongue out with caged hatred. Raze wallrides its face. Doesn’t miss a crank. Pall calls something out that’s lost in the night. They’re approaching St. Mary’s convent. Raze’s black hair waves behind him like an infernal banner. Pall’s like a glow-in-the-dark skeleton on the tiny screen in Æton’s hand. Last summer Raze got super drunk one night and corpsepainted the face of the statue of the Virgin Mary in the convent’s front yard. The nuns didn’t press charges, but Raze’s parents grounded him for a week. So that week we all just hung out in Raze’s room and watched internet porn and got real high. Raze rides past the convent without so much as a bunnyhop. In his wake Pall smiths to backsides out the weird cement ledge that bastions the convent. What Pall lacks in steeze he makes up with cleanliness. But when Raze manuals a park bench, or even barhops a fire hydrant, it just looks so kvlt. Pall 180s the same fire hydrant. His sprocket barely clears its stem nut. Raze swerves and goes down between the houses. I was afraid he’d do this. I step on it. Æton knocks on the window again. Just keep rolling I shout back as I swing a screeching right onto Schuldiner Street. If he hasn’t blasted it yet, there’s a Raze banger comin’ up. I stamp the brakes and back down a dark alley. Æton has caught on and now he’s sitting against the tailgate, shining the flood light we decided to bring just in case. As far as we know, no one else does what Raze is about to do. Finally they appear. Shadows flooded in the white light. Raze leads and he’s booking it. He wallrides to manuals a dumpster. Poetry written in chain grease. Something runs for its life ahead of them. From here it looks like a cat. This is about to get so good I can barely keep my hand off myself. Pall soars well over a handicap ramp rail. Tucks it high with familiar steeze. It’s coming. Right at the MINKVS tag where the narroway ends Raze boosts so high off a nonexistent lip and wallrides to walltaps the opposing wall and lands directly on the cat’s skull. It explodes beneath the rubbery knobs of the front tire like a burrito put too long in the microwave. I hit the gas to get out of their way just as Æton stands up in involuntary reaction and falls face first out of the bed of my truck. I slam on the brakes. As I’m shifting to park I feel the bed rock and when I look back there’s nothing but then the cab sinks with a bang overhead and I turn back around in time to see Raze ride off the hood of my truck and disappear beyond the headlights' beam. Pall jumps off his bike and helps Æton. His grill is death but he doesn’t even care. He holds up the unharmed camera in triumph.

08 November, 2012

This is only my 200th post?

Wow. I guess - despite the moniker - it's always been about quality over quantitties here at the Dower.

Anyway, here's a little something I did while rejecting Hos and determining my p-values.