Benjamin PowerCounter-subversion
I'm quite annoyed at this bloke. He's one of the cool set from C'ford. Plenty more where that came from. I have no desire to profile him though, as I notice there are bigger groupers to barbeque. His project concerns, and I quote "the corpses of murdered pregnant women spontaneously delivering stillborn offspring". And just leaves it at that (?!). No context. No further thought. Oh, and he's an Anarchist apparently (read: Leftist). How very f**king ignominious.
That said, I've been known to like Death Industrial. Gentle hint: this is not Death Industrial.
Oh no no for this is 'Harsh Noise'.
In a nutshell, you could use it in Guantanamo for practical purposes. I often wonder if this young, suspiciously psychopathic oaf clambered out of one of those programs. I would rather listen to 20,000 kilohertz weapons-tech.
He'd asked me to record a track for his album. He came across as a potential fanboi. However, I suspected he wanted to piggy-back off my 'underground' "who the f**k is that guy?" reputation in that stupid town.
I wrote the track, utilizing some lyrics I've had lying around for a while. Ed the Ped had a go at this song also, wrecking it totally.
I spent ages on the mixing and mastering (going so far as to ask my regular audio engineer J. Stillings for assistance). I put the lyrics in a word file. I titled the track "Worlds Come Down". I stated that it was by Bleach For The Stars, if only to establish a little reverse marketing if any of his friends heard it.
At least he put it up at all. It's now called "Alligator Men", and is (prod-) by Vore Complex. Nice try, I suppose. This vainglorious whelp is evidently a total pillock.
Oh well, I'll learn you, you silly bugger.
I had to ask him again to put up the lyrics. Finally, he relented. I noticed he'd changed J. Stillings' (!) mastering settings though, leading to a crap, every-which-way-at-once full on drown-out that also hides my vocals magnificently. I suspect this man-ette is a cuck.
Maybe he can read the lyrics, and assimilate them, and realize that I am ripping the absolute piss out of the whole lot of them (whilst seriously trying to teach them not to be morons).
I notice it has not sold a single copy. Aha, vindication! Then again, none of these emptied twat-goblins ever purchases anything (despite all working in retail or bar-work), being self-professed socialists.
See an irony there at all, people? Like me to raid The Ivory Peg, and see how far I get?
Oh well, I'm sure he won't notice. He simultaneously spelled my name by email with a small 'b' and then went on to call me "dude". It's almost as bad as when I get official letters addressed to 'Mr. Powers'.
Haven't heard from him since. I told another one of these feckless wombles that I had an interest in MI7 and I think it scared him off. Oddly, I do have an interest in MI7. I'll leave that for another day.
Here's the song. I had the original somewhere or other (on a PC, I believe). I can't quite place where that's got to...
https://coffinbirther.bandcamp.com/track/alligator-men-ft-prod-vorecomplex
And here's the lyrics:
It’s a cold day in Hell and the hacked skin is screaming
Cut-price souls bleeding out
Selling their Meaning
Dead civilization
Beyond restoration
And a nice fresh demographic for each novel degradation
The cots are full of maggots in each nursery mind
No jobs for life yet you join the cattle grind
Skipping through fires of hate and desire
Throbbing zombie zygotes on the razor wire
Thin skins already cracking
Ligaments contracting
Writhing in this wound wake with both hands bound
Dionysian sybarites
Eyes wide shut in ritual spite
Cruising through a sine wave of freak show sound
Ugly-hued heads splice
Dead lips dirge lice
Masturbating mania across the wires
Blinkered perverts, paid drones
Puking up their sick bones
Superficial wishes light the funeral pyres
Blood sacrifice and infant rape
An Inquisition ink State
Liquid sex psychosis if you have the guile
Fashion conscious group thought
Virtue signaled souls bought
Feed those miles of maggots with each cold, controlled smile
I see rabid dogs and dust mites dripping universal slug slime
An acid rainbow in a sky that’s never had the time to shine
Crassly-wrought creeds serving dioxin needs
Half-baked quick-fix faith relations bleeding blunt force blasphemy
With muscles stitched to muzzles
Time to pack away this puzzle
There are crows on the horizon and that sky burns black
Corrupted cacogenics and a criminal aesthetic
Pay-per-view homicides
All media backed
Manufactured misandry
The feeble end of history
60 years of backwards ideology
Waves of assembly-line gun-crime
Feeding fear to brainwashed dregs
Rifle-toting right-wing death squads?!
Tell it to the limbless baby dripping down your leg
As the cellophane godless fuck the Lord of The Flies
Both looking backwards with the same ash in their eyes
And social sedation dulls this fear of waste creation
Whilst they aim us all at aimless annihilation
Still you bite the hand that feeds
Planting disillusioned seeds
A new generation of cultic dismay
Sucking off that flesh for your own feeble needs
Would you ever consider there’s another way?
Put your fingers to the ground
And feel the howl as worlds come down
Marketed amnesia
Makes it even easier
To enjoy a twilight lit by railguns, DEWs, drones, and mines
Turned on by this arms race
Tuned to charm and weak faith
You let the propagandists dictate your every line
Christ disfigured
They needed something bigger
Something they could trigger, with the time to kill
Broken borders
Victims only following orders
To drag us back with gratitude into their bloody swill
Left, and Right – and always wrong
A dialectic built on scorn
Left, and Right – and always wrong
A dialectic built on scorn
Left, and Right – and always wrong
A dialectic built on scorn
A dialectic built on scorn
A dead
A dead
A dead age is born
I don't really recommend the rest of the album, as its all shite to be honest. At least the mangled carcass of my own track is shovelled in there in good company.
Doubleplusshite, chaps. Try again.