13 February, 2013

Wigga's Delight.

 I didn't come up with the title so you can't call me a racist.

That said, let's get down to misappropriating some culture here.

First up we got a record that Danyul from the Front End burnt me. Dude has damn near impeccable taste in music. He doesn't listen to much metal, but what he does is solid, e.g. Harvey Keitel Milk & Agalloch. So Big TomHanks to him for getting me this jam weeks befo' it dropped, and no thanks to my lazy butt for keeping it all to myself for the past fortnight. I kept trying to just, like, download it even though I had it just, like, sitting out in my car. Anyway, this record ain't out yet - that's clear by now, right? - and it's not available anywhere that I could detect, so go ahead and check it out and pretend to be as into it as I actually am and then a few months from now, when everyone's bumpin' it, like, veinticuatroseite, maybe then you'll finally understand how/why/that it's so good, so funky and so . . . trve.

Up next we got two records by the same ban - er . . . group that my buffet buddy Timshel (thou mayest look up that name) from Grocery burnt me. One record is dub; the other is reggae. As far as I can tell the only distinction between them two genres is that dub has echo fx on the vox. Both records sound and feel really great. When I and I was jemming it today on the way home from the gym I and I swear I and I could see, through hims dirty Buick windshield, the lights of Zion rising up over the smoke-clad horizon. It's a beautiful thing to take a chance on a new sound and to enjoy it immediately. However, this ain't your stepdad's reggae. These guys smoke weed and talk about Zion and Babylon and how to live free despite the machinations of politrixians. The message here is putting music over all else, "music is most high." Ff you're not into these jems I'll eat my toppah!

Praise Jah dem two black ladies was walkin' by when we was about to take our promo pic.

06 February, 2013

Hermetic Tragmatica

Cleanse Yourself with Refuse.

(This one goes back through time.)

Listen to this record when your roommate's listening to a record of something happy and hollow. Say FTW and mean it. You've certainly had a day.


Listen to this record when you're perusing AA with a new Henley in your left hand and a spot of Hennessy in your back pocket. Don't bother listening when the guy you kinda know who works there and is just getting off tells you about a show tomorrow night. Just say: "Third floor. Got it. Hey, where are your sweatpants?" Do take him up on his back alleyway J, though.

Listen to this record on your way to the Apple store. You're stupid high and despite being low on gas you're driving all over the east side looking for a parking spot. But you keep passing up good spots because the record feels great and it's so warm in your car. Don't worry, they're gonna replace your earpods for free.

This is what you listen to in the gym right before you break your earpods. You're going HAM on all the equipment Your opening tree pose is so still you're like a Bernini cut. You're pretty sure the young black ladies on the treadmills are making fun of you, cuz you're all serious and stoic, but who cares? You're unstoppable.

This is what you listen to when you sit down to forget to drink your hot chai mate and surf the desolate internet on your phone instead of studying Spanish at 8am.

03 February, 2013

In the penumbra of sagging monuments.

Last night I was sitting on a couch at a team member's (that means coworker in Wholespeak) housewarming party next to another very nice and fair lady team member whom I had recently introduced to Ash Borer after seeing her once at Gooski's (a local tavern that oft hosts metal & punk shows) wearing a Wolves In The Throne Room shirt. I burnt her a copy of Cold of Ages and she loved it. Told me she listened to it like three times in a row, super loud, the day I gave it to her. Well, Ash Borer came up again last night and after we talked about how they're possibly (according to her) and (according to me) definitely better than Wolves . . . she pulled out - no kidding - an old school tape player with iPhone earbuds (a little waxy, they were, yes) and told me I had to listen to her friends' band. I did. And let me tell you, disease-ridden supplicant, I was not eager to remove the earbuds, not even when doing so would've probably been the polite thing to do. Every moment of the song just got better and better. The drummer was blasting so hard my arms hurt; the guitars were as if chasing each other across frozen, desolate plains, eviscerating every hapless creature that stood in their scorching path; and the vocals, man, the vocalist was just goin' straight up HAM on the mic, that's the only way I can think to describe it. Finally I removed the earbuds and like: "Holy crow! Who is that?"

"Shadow Of The Destroyer," she said. 

"Dang, I gotta look them up," I said and meant it. 

"You won't find anything. I'll just make you a copy of the tape."


Now Shadow Of The Destroyer are from Asheville, NC, so don't be surprised when you hear some lingering elements of the bygone early Aughties, even the late Nineties when Metalcore giants like Prayer For Cleansing and Undying still strode the earth and American kids worshiped At The Gates and not Mayhem and Darkthrone. But for the most part what you'll get here with SOTD's demo, and especially with 2010's EP Funeral Dust, is scathing, hateful USBM. Herein lie the kind of tunes you need on a cold day when you're honestly somehow a little tired of listening to Immortal.

Below is a link to both their 2007 demo Harbingers of Dark Truth and the aforementioned 2010 EP Funeral Dust. Enjoy. And thanks to my team member for introducing me to some trve USBM.