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@darlingchemicalia
The little I’ve heard about Sacramento’s Darlingchemicalia keeps saying “Goth” and “post-punk” like those terms mean anything to a dour indie-rock band. Are these folks trying to sell themselves as Goth? The music is somewhat bleak, but mostly just sounds like a noisy pop downer, with nasally...
DarlingChemicalia
Spun In White
8 out of 10
On the band’s latest effort Spun in White, Bone allows the collaborative vibe that permeated the edges of Valleys and Masking to fully blossom into something special. While there’s still a creepy aura and guitar drone aplenty, the album feels much more expansive than anything the band has attempted yet. Instead of drenching everything in reverb, DarlingChemicalia boldly move away from their lo-fi aesthetic by opening up their sound and allowing the members to play off each other. Every track feels carefully calibrated, but not in a way that comes across streamlined.
READ FULL REVIEW HERE!
Listen/purchase: Spun In White by Darlingchemicalia
muse
death wants more death, and its webs are full:
I remember my father's garage, how child-like
I would brush the corpses of flies
from the windows they had thought were escape--
their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies
shouting like dumb crazy dogs against the glass
only to spin and flit
in that second larger than hell or heaven
onto the edge of the ledge,
and then the spider from his dank hole
nervous and exposed
the puff of body swelling
hanging there
not really quite knowing,
and then knowing--
something sending it down its string,
the wet web,
toward the weak shield of buzzing,
the pulsing;
a last desperate moving hair-leg
there against the glass
there alive in the sun,
spun in white;
and almost like love:
the closing over,
the first spider-sucking:
filling its sack
upon this thing that lived;
crouching there upon its back
drawing its certain blood
as the world goes by outside
and my temples scream
and I hurl the broom against them:
the spider dull with spider-anger
still thinking of its prey
and waving an amazed broken leg;
the fly very still,
a dirty speck stranded to straw;
I shake the killer loose
and he walks lame and peeved
towards some dark corner
but I intercept his dawdling
his crawling like some broken hero,
and the straws smash his legs
now waving
above his head
and looking
looking for the enemy
and somehow valiant,
dying without apparent pain
simply crawling backward
piece by piece
leaving nothing there
until at last the red gut-sack splashes
its secrets,
and I run child-like
with God's anger a step behind,
back to simple sunlight,
wondering
as the world goes by
with curled smile
if anyone else
saw or sensed my crime
-Charles Bukowski
suicide in your mom/cigarette on your couch/marijuana/i need to feel that dope now/in the city/where all the girls goin south/marijuana/well i feel the dull now/i'd kill myself to see you with your pants off/suicide on your couch/cigarette with your mom
and i was lost before you'd sing me your concerns/and i was lost before you picked flowers from the church/and i was looked after by a hooded warrior/and i was longing for the stenciled path back to your door/green lung - i finally found someone
Ainlif
cross your heart/till we start/screwing like/two wasps in fire/hope to die/perfumed divide/limbs entwined/in widows desire/cut offs-shirt off/don't you love to ride on/don't you want me?/roses are/in backs of cars/easy ride/cocooned suicide/violets lie/you blossom fire/nude valentine/insecticide
i may get lost in you once in a while/with your wandering eyes/and your blurred retinas/i may get lost in you once in a while/with your broken heart/and your cold arteries/sweethearts leave tonight/it's not right/decay love decay light/you're not mine/i may get lost in you once in a while/with your crooked spine/when you turn your back to me/i may get lost in you once in a while/when your open arms welcome anatomy