Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
One of the movies we watched was Scrooged. I totally forgot how amazing Bill Murray was in that movie. It really made me happy it was Christmas, as corny as that may sound. Who cares, right? Anyway, if you have not watched it in a while, you should. Here is the part where good old Frank has his break through and get's unScroogy. Maybe it'll help you get unScroogy too.
If you still feel Scroogy, please follow this link and embrace it-
Thanks and happy Christmas.
P.S. The title of this blog was originally "Bill Murray is the knig.", which was a typo, but a typo of note I suppose.
Friday, December 21, 2007
I love Bow Wow's temper tantrum and braggadocio in this clip. He is such a little bitch. Omarion's cool demeanor is surprising, though.
The reason no one respects you, sir, is because you make rap music for 14 year old girls. You will never be anything more than that. I will never play one of your songs in my set. You may be rich, but you have no class. The bums will always lose, sir!
I knew when I ran into this one she would be the redrum of my pimpin'. Knew she would be the one to make me stop caring about other girls on my jock and gettin' them. She was the one to slow me down hold me down. I roll wit her know go wit it now I'mma grow wit it now I'ma go get her that's how. I got her don't be mad you can't get one hotter. Broke them up when they made lil' momma. I don't care what my niggas say she been there everyday for my drama. Some of the homies hate cause they want her, wish they the ones that's datin' my woman. Go on get a good look cause she fine and I don't mind cause she mine.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Is this guy not the scariest looking imbecile you've seen in a while? And when I say imbecile, I mean a person of the second order in a former classification of mental retardation, above the level of idiocy, having a mental age of seven or eight years and an intelligence quotient of 25 to 50. Why do the American people hate intelligence? Open mindedness? Freedom? Why? Why is some podunk bred halfwit remarking to his cross-eyed wife, "Well, golly gee, Martha! Little Mikey Huckabee is runnin fer prisidint! Hooooooohweeeeee!"
Huckabee. PRESIDENT HUCKABEE. That sounds so bad. I was listening to NPR a week ago, and they interviewed a woman from somewhere in the Midwest about the Presidential race. When asked who she was voting for, she replied, "Mike Hucklebee." His supporters don't even know his goddanged name. All they hear is, "Jesus this and Jesus that. Jesus is the coolest thing in the world and stuff and shit. Oh, goddangit I love me some Jesus." And that's it, the vote is cast.
This picture is wrong on so many levels.
Playing some Jars Of Clay covers to win the Christian Youth vote?
What a dolt.
How about this for a quote... “Unless Moses comes down with two stone tablets from Brokeback Mountain to tell us something different, we need to keep that understanding of marriage.” He HATES the gays.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
You see, we just hope you have the heart to bring a toy, not that we're giving you any motivation, but perhaps you will take it upon yourself to donate something to us for an unfortunate youngster who needs a G.I. Joe or whatever. Come out this Saturday, bring all your girlfriends, and give up a toy, goddamnit. It's too hot, we don't take requests, the sound sucks, and so do the bartenders, but at least you will be doing something good for someone else. And helping me pay my rent. Thanks a bunch.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Sunday, December 9, 2007
I had a similar situation when I was a kid. I always thought smoking looked really cool and grown-up when I was little. I would always ask my dad for a drag off his ciggie, but he would never let me have one. So, one day my dad was working on his car in the garage. He had the car running, and I noticed all the pretty smoke pouring out of the tailpipe. I thought it would be the same as smoking, so I got down on all fours, wrapped my mouth around the exhaust pipe and started sucking. Needless to say, it didn't last long and I passed out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital on a respirator. My father began beating me about the head and shoulders with a rolled up magazine and yelling, "Only dummies suck a tailpipe! Only dummies suck a tailpipe!" Luckily the security was called in and they dragged him out kicking and screaming profanities, the like of which I have never heard their match. After the bandages came off, I was taken to a foster home in Tanzania where a family of diamond miners raised me. I worked in the mines with them 75 hours a week so that you faggot ass bitches can wear your oh-so precious "bling" or whatever you people call it, all the while being exposed to toxic fumes and deadly x-rays in daily mandatory searches for hidden product. I managed to sneak a fairly sizable stone by bringing my foot down on it and embedding its jagged exterior into the tender sole of my foot. I sold the diamond on the black market for $200, just enough to buy me passage on a fishing boat headed toward the Mediterranean Sea. After weeks of rough sailing, and even rougher sailor sex, we finally arrived in Greece. Athens is beautiful in the spring and the wine is marvelous. I got a job as a dishwasher at a greasy spoon just off the main drag called Aisrologia. The cook was a salty old bag named Baptista. She would yell at me, "Malaka! No washing de hog-skewer goooood!" and then she would dump the dirty dish water all over me. Well, one fateful day I washed the crap out of those hog-skewers. I mean, they were shining! Baptista came back with a gap-toothed smile on from ear to hairy ear. She was so happy with my performance she took me by the nape of my neck and led me to the alley behind the restaurant where the flies congregated. She told me these words which I will never forget, "You es de dummiest of de dummies washeds eberr, boot me fren, you duz de hog-skewess dun goodeh. Now hahv deh cigahlretteh weeth me." I couldn't believe it! My day had finally come after all this time! I lit that smoke with fervor and took a big pull. I don't know what kind of tobacco those fools smoke over there, but I began to cough so violently that I was unable to take a breath. My lungs bled for three days and then I died. Just kidding, Lucy. You are so stupid.
Posted by the goat on Friday, March 25, 2005 at 1:53 AM
Thursday, December 6, 2007
The consummate Chuck D
(I know, Chuck... I deserve that for forgetting to put you on the "Don't Die List". Sorry.)
Cordozar Calvin Broadus, Jr. aka The Doggfather, Snoop Dogg.
Big Uncle Snoopy Dogg has been added to the list not only for his sweet, sweet music, but also for his tireless work in every other medium he can get his little doggy paws on.
White people loooove the Snoop-A-Loop.
Here is a syllabus of his useful contributions to society:
Probably the best example of his filmic prowess is a toss up between these two:
Hood Of Horror
I think I'll go with Soul Plane.
Have we forgotten about C-Walking already?
This dude even has his own youth football league. What the fuck? The goddamned Snoop Youth Football League. I'm not joking.
And now we have this... Snoop's newest single, Sensual Seduction. Our boy has definitely been smoking some pots lately. This video is totally blowing my mind.
If you like the video, you can download the uncensored version of the song by clicking the link below.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
If you haven't heard by now, legendary rapper Pimp C of UGK was found dead yesterday morning in his Hollywood hotel room. The cause of death is as yet undetermined. I am writing this blog not only in his memory, but also as a plea to the powers that be that the remaining rappers of value be left alone. I just want to know why. Why, when there are so many shitty excuses for rappers out there.... why another good one? Whoever is in charge of the killing, maybe they would accept my list of expendable "artists":
(in no particular order)
1.Nelly - Your goddamned sing-songy delivery is the bane of my existence. Get a day job.
2.T-Pain - Why, oh why do people like this douche? All I hear is Cher's Believe when this bullshit comes on the radio. And fuck Kanye for putting him on Good Life, too.
3.Eminem - I don't think I need to explain this one, but there has been a pleasant absence lately, which I give him points for.
4.Mims - Mims gets on the list for the stupidest hook ever... "I'm hot cuz I'm fly, you ain't cuz you not." No shit, asshole.
5.Akon - Locked Up and Smack That make me want to gouge my eardrums. "Maybe go to my place and just kick it like Tae Bo." Kick yourself to the curb like Tae Bo, Akorn, and then kill yourself.
6.Soulja Boy - This child needs some serious speech therapy. He cannot enunciate for shit, and he must not be able to see either with his dumb, misspelled name written on the lenses of his sunglasses.
7.Diddy - ...or whatever the fuck he decides his name is these days. Where did he ever get the idea he should pick up a microphone? Bad look.
8.50 fucking Cent - Easily the most over-rated rapper of all time. And he got some chiclet/Bugs Bunny teeth, too. Get the fuck outta here.
9.Yung Joc - "Bim, bam, I know you want some. She CHEWING on the dick like a piece of Bubble Yum."
10.Jibbs - Chain Hang Low has got to be one of the dumbest songs ever made. Who's idea was that to interpolate the "Do your ears hang low? Do they wobble to and fro?" song... whatever the name of that song is. God, that shit sucks.
11.Fabolous - He is on the list not only for his atrocious rhyming, but also for the plain stupid way he spells his name. Take it back to the drawing board, dick.
12.Ja Rule - This dude thought that his deep, manly voice was enough to float his whole career on. Wrong again, Ja. And this motherfucker has wings tattooed on his back. What a goddamned goofball.
13.Gorilla Zoe - Just watch the Yung Joc video I added below and see for yourself.
14.Jermaine Dupri - If I have to hear the words "You know what it is..." at the beginning of another song, I might go apeshit. Not to mention all the worthless projects he has littered the airwaves with over the years- Da Brat, Kriss Kross, Jagged Edge, Xscape, and...
15.Bow Wow - One of these days I'm gonna smack the smug out of your dirty little dog mouth, Little Tiny Baby Bow Wow. You can't act, either. Fuck off.
With that being said, I would like to propose a list of rappers who should be spared at the chopping block, if it please the gods. Anyone who appears in the photo collage below cannot die, please.
Now, back to the matter at hand... Pimp C. Here are a couple old, but fresh UGK videos, just so you get a picture of how instrumental they were to southern rap and rap in general.
Peep Pimp's Nirvana shirt in this next one.
Now it's time to say RIP PIMP C and sign out. Dude was a certified OG. Thanks for all you did for music, Pimp.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
If you didn't make it to the premiere last month, you missed out. But never fret, my child, because there is always a second chance. The next Shake Appeal is December 8, MMVII at the world renowned Beauty bar in San Diego. Me and Ikah all night.
Though our minds may be clouded by butts, weeds, and riches, we have not forgotten about the children. Therefor, we of The Basstanic Group, will be hosting a Holiday toy drive at our next Booty Bassment in San Francisco. Bring an unwrapped toy and receive admission for a mere three dollars. "But," you say, "admission is always three dollars." You may be right, but that will not stop us from collecting five dollars from any Scrooge McDuck who shows up to The K.O. empty handed. "Well, that isn't a very good discount on admission, considering the amount of money I stand to spend on a toy." Perhaps, but to this person I would say, "Fuck to you."
Friday, November 23, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
Last night I djed at The Knockout the second night in a row for the WAR Magazine release party. It was pretty alright, considering I got to play black metal on a loud system. 100 Suns played as well, and they were good, but the other band Impaled sucked a camel's balls with hotsauce. On my walk home, three fat white girls were yelling and pushing each other in the middle of Valencia street. They were the ghettofied sort that began and punctuated every sentence with the word bitch. That was amusing, but not the noteworthy event for the evening.
I got back to Jordan's around 2:30am and hit the couch to get some sleep. Jordan's place is on Valencia between 25th and 26th in The Mission. After about ten minutes of attempted sleep, I heard what sounded like a window being smashed from the street. I got up from the couch to look out the window, where I saw two black men walking down the street all nonchalant, but I continued to watch them. They walked to the end of the block and stopped. One of the men turned around and started back down the block. That's when I grabbed my phone and called the police. He was looking in all the house windows up and down the street. I described the two men to the police dispatcher. The man walked down most of the block and then turned around again. He then stopped at a blue Lexus and reached in the window, evidentally broken. The lights on the car started blinking and so they both walked away from the car to the end of the block. Just as I was telling the dispatcher they were turning right on 25th, a cop car stopped in front of them and froze them in their tracks. I said to the dispatcher, "Oh! The cops just stopped them!." and she told someone, "You have the right suspects." Then she hung up.
It was so exciting; like a video game only better. I totally thwarted their evil intentions! It felt so good to get some retribution for the crime that was commited to my car when I lived here. Some worthless dick broke one of my rear windows in my piece of shit Toyota Corolla and took the rear-view mirror and a fake iced-out platinum chain with a cross that was hanging from my rear-view. What the fuck would they want that shit for? And to top it all off, they wiped a booger on the driver's side window. I was pretty bummed, but last night made it almost ok. I love defeating crime!
Monday, November 12, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
I like this next guy's outlook on a man's wants and needs. Women should take heed to this.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Last night was weird. All kinds of wack people were there. These old washed up pervs showed up halfway through the night completely shitcanned and started taking pictures of all the girls and trying to breakdance. I immediately rushed out on the floor to put a halt to their shenanigans. There will be no middle aged crackers breaking up the dancefloor with their feeble attempts at emulating "urban culture". Not on my watch. These idiots were crashing into people and slathering the unwilling with sweat in a futile effort at dancefloor acrobatics. At the end of the night I made an announcement, "Just for future reference, there will be no breakdancing allowed at The Booty Bassment." Some people starting booing and staring at me in disbelief. It was great. Ikah got on the microphone and elaborated saying, "Last time I checked, dancing was a couple's activity. Man and woman, woman and woman... It's not something to do AT somebody." Oh, it was rich, I tell you. A bit of character cleansing never hurt anybody, did it?
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
First off, I have noticed a lot more birds of prey in the air as of late. On my drive to work yesterday, I saw three very large hawks or some such bird hunting along side the 5 freeway. Maybe it can be attributed to the land that was burned. I guess the animals need to go somewhere, but I just never see large birds like that in the beach areas. Speaking of which, I have been seeing flocks of crows all over San Diego, which I never remember there being until this last year. Very odd.
Secondly, the asshole drivers seem to be driving with even more disregard to courtesy and general traffic laws than ever. Is this a result of the fires? Has the smoke damaged the part of their brains which allow quick decision making? I don't know and I don't like it. I really want to know why it is soooooo difficult for people to use the goddamned blinker before changing lanes or making a turn. Does it really take that much energy for these people? Maybe they should eat some Wheaties before they hit the road. V8? Whatever.
With that being said, I would like to let you know that we will be accepting donations for victims of the fire at The Worst Music Ever on 10/25/07 at The Zombie Lounge and at Booty Bassment on 10/27/07 at The Whistle Stop Bar. Non perishable food items, water, clean bedding and clothing, toiletries, baby supplies, toys, etc. as well as money that will go to The American Red Cross. Come out, have a good time, and give freely. Thank you.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
In commemoration of the 2007 Hawaiian Islands Tap Dance Festival, I must tell you all about my favorite new TV show: America's Most Smartest Model. This shit is ridiculous. If you like to ridicule people who seem to have a lower intelligence than you even though you are watching VH1 and not reading Dostoevsky, then this is the show for you.
The plot: they take a group of models who claim to be smart and prove they are not by asking them to participate in several competitions all directed by Ben Stein and some chick who worked at Vogue or whatever, including a spelling bee with words such as emaciated or Tommy Hilfiger. IT IS HILARIOUS. The best part of the show that I saw was during the runway competition, where the models were given a subject they had to elaborate on while doing their walk down the runway. For instance, the model approaches the runway and the lady that worked at Fashion Week or whatever says, "Things that are round." The model then walks the runway (hopefully in style) while naming off things that are round... "Balls, balloons, the nucleus of an atom, etc."
So this guy named Gaston comes up. He's this skinny, typically model-attractive type Argentinian that makes lewd comments to every female he comes in contact with ("You two should rub your boobs together.") He looooves himself (see picture attached). Ben Stein gives him his subject: things that smell bad. After a moment of contemplation, Gaston begins his strut, and he comes out the corner swingin... "Armpit, fart, shoes..." He stops, pivots, makes his way to the other side of the catwalk... "socks, dirt..." He turns and heads back up the runway, turns around for his last look at the audience with a dead pan glare, and says it... "Dirty penis." I fucking lost it at that point. Gaston turns back around and leaves the stage. Just like that. POWER.
I don't give a fuck about any other bitch on that show, Gaston wins because only a genius would come up with an answer like that. But of course, the goddamned a-holes win again and cut him from the show. What did Gaston have to say about the matter? "Dirty penis stink, right? If they don't like my answer, they can suck it." My sentiments exactly. Another added bonus to all this mind blowing entertainment was that all Gaston's lines were subtitled to make up for his sheik Argentinian accent. GREAT SUCCESS, GASTON, GREAT SUCCESS. And now to celebrate Gaston's amazing acumen, I have made my own short list of things that I find olfactorily offensive. Enjoy.
Swamp ass, infected gangrenous leg, rotten tube steak, dead snow leopard, Chinese market, my Great Grandmother's 1974 Toyota Corona (which later became mine), rave, burning marshmallow bag in the bonfire, the bathroom at Peet's Coffee in Hillcrest, the hallway by the bathroom at Peet's Coffee in Hillcrest, homeless, Haight Street hippie, Haight Street crust-punk, Asiago cheese, the cattle ranch located right off the Interstate 5 in Central California (also known as Cowschwitz), free condom from Planned Parenthood, wet cat food, rotting pug tooth, Old Spice, old library book, old person, The Beach Boys.
Friday, October 12, 2007
After an overwhelming outcry by you, our adoring public, we decided to make The Worst Music Ever a monthly occurrence. Yes, you will now be able to hear all Earth's aural atrocities on the 4th Thursday of every month at The world famous Zombie Lounge. You are so stoked right now.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
This time, I am on my own. Ryan will be on vacation in Argentina and New York. I'm totally jealous and sad I won't get to hang out with him until November, but I'll survive. Anyway, come dance for me because I'll be djing all night by myself, so I need to see you WORK! SWEAT! And maybe come freak me for a minute. It wouldn't make me mad.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
Last night I went to the Morrissey show in Tijuana at El Foro with Ikah and Saul and a flock of Mexicans. The venue was a renovated Jai Alai arena, all old and perfect. The whole place had a 3,000 person capacity, and the floor was so small you could stand almost anywhere and see the stage perfectly, not mention the fact that I seemed to be at least a head taller than three quarters of the crowd anyway. The show beat the shit out of the last Morrissey show I saw at the Embarcadero in San Diego. The sound, the performance, the crowd, the ambiance, everything went well.
It was funny to hear Morrissey address the Spanish speaking crowd, too. He spoke very deliberately although too sparsely, telling anecdotes about getting pulled over by la Policia on the drive in that day and his plans to sell watermelons from a bicycle on Revolucion after the show. The crowd seemed to be somehow more courteous than the usual barbarians at a show stateside. One of the obligatory shirts tossed to the crowd was held onto by five young hands for at least four songs before being ripped to shreds. They just kept a tight grip and sang along like everyone else.
Some songs from the set included: Billy Bud, Disappointed, You Have Killed Me, Life Is A Pigsty, In The Future When All's Well, I Just Want To See the Boy Happy, Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself, The Boy With The Thorn In His Side (with a false start by the band), First Of The Gang To Die, Irish Blood, English Heart, The National Front Disco, Stretch Out And Wait, How Soon Is Now?, Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before, and Death Of A Disco Dancer. I can't wait for October first!
After the show all of us walked over to Franc's for food. It was amazing! Totally authentic. The place is almost like a taco stand but with tables and roll-down steel gates in front. For some reason I just feel at home in a grimey setting like that. I ate three quesadillas with beans, salsa, and guacamole, paid my $8, and then we took a $5 cab back to the border. I had a great time down there. I think my opinion of TJ has officially changed now that I went with some people who know the place. What a great night...
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
This night is going to be the most fun I might ever have djing. Please come out so I can hear you groan and slap yourself in the face when Mark Smith, Dan Sant, and I offer you the worst hits and the biggest shits of the last 30 years including such stanky gems as: What a Fool Believes by The Doobie Brothers, Down With the Sickness by Disturbed, Achey Breaky Heart by Billy Ray Cyrus, My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion, any song by Chamillionaire, The Macarena, Cottoneye Joe, The Electric Slide, and more and more and more....
We take suggestions as well, so let us know what's on your shitlist. Get over your dumb snobbery and come have fun for once. It's gonna fucking rule.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Last Friday, I covered for Ikah at Bar Dynamite. Not my favorite place to dj, but hey... I'll take the money. But the reason I'm writing this blog now is because I got THE WORST request I've ever gotten before. Mind you, I've had my share of bad ones ("Do you have any Sublime?", "Could you play some Metallica?", "Play It's Your Birthday!", ad nauseam...), but I really think this one took the cake. A girl comes up to the dj booth and does the whole stare-at-the-dj-till-he-pays-attention-to-me thing. I'm in the middle of a mix, but that seems not to faze her. As soon as I was done I acknowledge her with a monotone "Hi" and an empty smile. I can't help it... I really don't like being bothered while I'm working. I just think it's rude. Anyway, she asks me, "Do you have any country-western?" FUCK NO, I DON'T HAVE ANY COUNTRY WESTERN. "No. Sorry." So she says, "Well, are you going to play The Electric Slide?" I could not even look at her at that point. I gave her a vigorous shake of the head and kept my eyes on my job. I don't know where this idiot came from or where she thought she was, but I was playing all rap and disco all night. Why the fuck would I have country or The Electric Slide? Oh my god. I was praying for death at that point. Do I look like a wedding dj? Are we at In Cahoots? NO, NO WE AREN'T. THIS IS NOT BURGER KING, BITCH. DIE BY THE SWORD. Ok, sorry. I'm done.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Booty Bassment San Francisco returns Saturday, September 15, MMVII. At a mere $3 cover, you can't beat the value. Ryan and Dimitri bring you the goddamned jams 10pm-2am at The Knockout (3223 Mission St. @ Valencia). Don't fucking front.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
For those fortune few hundred people that were able to cram into the Knockout (SF) or managed to shake it down at the Whistlestop (SD) before the Fire Marshall pulled the plug, here are some visual reminders of what went down. Thanks to all the fine contestants and loyal Booty Shaking believers. There is much more to come!
UTD is the latest release from the demented mind of Woe J. Reaper. This album is so unique and twisted and fresh sounding that I can't stop playing it. It's actually two albums released as one. The full title is UTD: Beneath the Odd-Edge Sounds of the Twilight Contract of the Black Fascist / The Wealth of the Penetration in the Abstract Paradigms of Satan. Fucking weird. The lyrical content and liner notes read like the diary of a madman, explaining his ideology, symbolism, thoughts on music and beyond. The artwork, the rants, the mystery, yes... but it's the music that really sets Furze apart from the rest.
These songs are completely manic and unsettling, with the esoteric mixing and production techniques of early Darkthrone (although the sound quality is definitely not low-fi on a whole) and just plain maniacal energy throughout, with meandering clean bass accompaniment, overly loud and reverberant toms, shredding fuzzed out guitar riffs, and vocal range that strays from a muffled cookie-monster whisper to the shriek of a burning witch to a throaty growl to a strangely eq'ed raspy melody, now in your face, now in the dungeon below, now in a schizophrenic conversation with himself panning ear to ear. The vocals are occasionally effected (we'll use the Reaper's own words) with a very odd-edge, including a voice pitch shifted..... up? Soooo weird sounding.
One of the cool things about this record though is that Furze is not beyond giving you a catchy head-nodding riff to keep you engaged, weird as the recording may be. These songs are decidedly catchy, with veritably infectious guitar riffs, but still possessing a spirit of geniune creative freedom. I think this is where the dichotomy of Furze comes to light. This album is absolutely mean sounding, but so much fun. As an added bonus, the legendary Frost (from Satyricon and 1349) is featured on drums on two songs.
And as if that wasn't enough to sell you, the vinyl edition comes with a large poster with a positively juvenile illustration depicting Jesus fucking Mohammed (who's face has been blacked out, hips impaled with two grappling hooks, and genitalia pierced) with an inhumanly long penis. The whole thing is just so fucked up and great. Go buy this record now. I have also included a brief overview of the U.T.D. album below that I found on the Furze website (www.furze.net) for your enjoyment.
PS: Only The Reaper Knows What "U.T.D." stands for.........
UTD – BENEATH THE ODD-EDGE SOUNDS TO THE TWILIGHT CONTRACT OF THE BLACK FASCIST
1. A LIFE ABOUT MY SABBATH
The Reaper himself speaks… Scythe trademark made music. FURZE prove as the Universal name, and with a dogmatic edge, reveals the only personification of The Death.
Aggressive riffing, you quickly understand that Furze luckily have rehearsed some guitar since 2001(last FURZE album recording). Here and track 3, you have the mighty Frost who stepped in on magic-Drums…No words needed really ! Total FURZE approach was reached (Frost is luckily an older Furze fan), of course, or no recording would take place with any "outsider" ! When this opener kicks off you see why we called this album "the true follow-up album to "Trident Autocrat""! Back in BRUTALITY, more so !
2. DEMONIC ORDER IN THE ETERNAL FASCIST'S HALL
How The Reaper's shadow arrogantly penetrates human order – turning it to chaos without mercy. Creeping all history – all screams… Beyond all(power…life) killing technology there is, was and will ever be.
But, the map is dark…and the demons do inspire too...A chill psychedelic horror sucking you into - pens write in the airtouch...
3. BENEATH THE WINGS OF THE BLACK VOMIT ABOVE
No 1 = microcosm. No 2 = "half-eternity" systems (which means ALL ideas of ANY (divine,cyber,alien,spiritual etc etc, known and unknown) life. No 3 = The Reaper (Absolute Eternity in time and space) . Now you got this data – now read the lyric. Possibly the most intense song ever to be recorded by FURZE. Not easy on these words.
4. THE DEEDS THAT GRASP TO THE CANDLE'S SHADE
The Reaper is not in woe when witching deeds of murder is on the roll… It deals with the propaganda The Reaper reveals to the "black witch" ,but also the unconscious teamwork between Reaper(active role) and Mankind(passive) as a whole. An atmosphere for F.O.T.U. ,and (our) dark desires. "A flame casts a shadow…"
UTD – THE WEALTH OF THE PENETRATION IN THE ABSTRACT PARADIGMAS OF SATAN
5 . MANDRAGORA OFFICINARUM
MANDRAKE – as a symbol of the hidden old dark roots of Mankind.
The map must be summoned. Organic Furzement is at hand. The perfect opening for "The Wealth of….". Instrumental.
Majestic and primitive at one and the same time...
Old lyric by now. This one takes a look at the moment and makes sure to narrow the mind where it is needed. The goat generates, must breath in the dark ,whilst walking it's own way.
Will inspire for the future guitar-sounds for Furze for sure.
7. DEEP IN THE POT OF FRESH ANTIPODAL WEAVE
This has excerpts, and is mainly based on a personal experiment/occult project which started early 2004. Originally entitled "The Pentagram" back then. Where "M.Officinarum" is the start, "Goat…" is it's natural result, to us in our life-mode ("1") that is. Not supposed to be printed at first ,however, "Djerve Djevel" is added good spice with this one as it's proceeder. The only purely slow, atmospheric track this time around…
8. DJERVE DJEVEL
Deals with the inner voice of strength – as opposed to "the endless jehova".
The circle is ended on "The Wealth...." with this track. Love to hatred is back – gives an "intellectual" aggression of realization to hatred in vivid action - it seems in this song.
"Djerve Djevel" means "Brave Devil" so to say...