A RECURRENT WELCOME, WRITHING WORMFEASTS.
PRIOR WARNING; I’m actually not gonna “talk” a ton about music today, because I made you something, baby.
Put it on, have a sit, take in some things that are different, and some that are familiar.
Isn’t it cool that within a small span of months we may very well live in a world where the chances of our snow no longer longer being white is actually quite feasible?
“What do you mean “not white”, Bear?”
SIMPLE, MY BI-NIPPLED FRIEND!
For the first time in over 70 years, we stand as a populous on an era draped in the threat of real, massive, nuclear war. I’m not talking about one bomb, in one city, taking out one block. I’m talking about black skies in mid-July and taking your sons, daughters, nieces, and nephews to school in a respirator, because we have ultimately decimated our air, our water sources, and licked our fingers to place across the wick of all human hope. Ash descending constantly, coating everything as if we live in god-damn “Reign Of Fire” with Christian Bale.
It has come so far that our winter forged comrade in Russia (Vlad Putin in work) has requested the return of all of Russian delegates and their families to the motherland, at growing fears that shortly the keys to America’s (only slightly less stocked) arsenal will be the hands of a gigantic version of the fucking Gerber baby food model.
Additionally, parts of the United Kingdom are now considering REJOINING the European Union, and deployments of things like U.S. missile defense grids on European soil have made these two immense military super powers unstable in a very impactful way. Recently, Russia also did a test of the Topol-M, SS-27 “Sickle B”. Don’t go getting shivery at the name though. “Topol” simply means “White Poplar” in the native tongue, likely because it probably looks like a
FUCKING METALLIC OBELISK OF A TREE TREE WHEN IT’S ABOUT TO FIRE IT’S 800 KILOTON, INTERCONTINENTAL, MIRV’ING, DECOY-DEPLOYING DEATH MISSLE THAT FLIES AT 7,320 FEET PER SECOND.
To be impartial, obviously not everyone sees this as an eventually as I do. Some people are afraid of more tangible things. I have a friend that has such an incendiary fear of Bryan Adams that he would probably straight kill that ma’fucker in a McDonalds if he saw him. I know several grown ass men whose testicles suck inside themselves faster that a cumming NASCAR driver at just the sight of the tiniest web-spinning friend.
But isn’t that just the way of it all?
We consume, create, destroy, thinking so meaninglessly of the cost of one piece of trash thrown in the street, killing one bird. That bird’s several incapable young, dying. It’s that one hair that gets stuck at the top of your drain that finds a way to catch every other hair that makes it’s way in.
That one nuke, that hits that one parent.
That one fucking scares me.
Because it will not be just one.
I don’t want you to imagine headlines with numbers of the dead in them, I want you to comprehend that if there even is a headline, the only words they will potentially be able to use, is “Incalculable”.
Sunshine, rainbows, and bunny rabbits aside, that’s kind of what this little playlist is. Just a minor countdown to the apocalypse. I thought we might as well have a soundtrack.
The couple I’d like to touch on most are definitely “World Wars III & IV” by Carnivore (Peter Steel with his dick in his pants, sort of), and “Drone Bomb Me” by Anohni.
Carnivore was lucky enough to be one of those bands that formed in the era where you could say “I love to eat pussy” in a song, wear a soccer cup as stagewear, do a shoot in Playgirl and still almost have a fanbase. Peter Steele more widely known as being the frontman of a separate project called “Type O Negative” rips the entire album apart vocally, there are even a few songs with mellow bits in them on the album; track three “Male Supremacy”. The whole thing is mixed in the oddest way with what I can only really describe as a stunning result. The double-up reverb on Peter’s vocals and the backing gang vocals mix perfectly into a disgusting cauldron of viciousness. Highly recommend the whole album (if for nothing more than to laugh all the way through “Suck My Dick”), but I definitely couldn’t have picked a more fitting track for today than the one I did.
“A bomb hits the city, all life instantly vaporized.
But I’m not so fortunate, burning right before my eyes.
Stumbling, I trip over pieces of descending flesh.
Leaving a pile of smoldering, humanoid mess.
Coming in waves,
Leading me to,
A nuclear grave!
Are you ready,
Will you be,
Will you fight World War Three!
Are you ready,
Are you sure,
Will you fight World War Four!”
The latter, by Anohni, who is a transgender artist with multiple award nominations, including “Best Original Song”, and “Drone Bomb Me” their most recent release is as beautiful as it is somber. I’ve found myself singing it more times than I’d like to admit of late, but it just sticks with you. A near gospel voice with phenomenal vibrato, and what a significant metaphor to use.
“Let me be the first,
I’m not so innocent,
Let me the one,
The one that you choose from above”.
Continue drinking heavily,