#dafoeposting

[dafoeposting]

I love the question inherent in the name. They might be giants? This of course has been well answered by a long and illustrious career in which the two have turned into titanic figures in music. Every transplant DJ in Williamsburg hopes to absorb a small amount of the power once itinerant in the ground. Unfortunately the spigot is closed, the reservoir depleted by the incredible Flood (1990), and the tomes of greatness closed.

[dafoeposting]

You don’t understand! They didn’t consider Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ work as something cutting edge because everyone hears bumping techno when firmly gripping face to face with a childhood friend-turned-rival. The Academy is just failing to recognize a generated sound as similar to the spontaneous aural hallucination that exists as universal human experience!

[dafoeposting]

I didn’t use to be a religious man. I was born in the church, as many of us are, but it’s hard to stay in such an institution. My return to religion was actually somewhat forceful, when I was kidnapped at a festival and baptized in a kiddy pool of faygo.

However I found the experience so illuminating I willingly sought out communion, and thus began my journey. As the juggalo high priestess leaned over and spat in my mouth, I felt the light of the lords enter me.

Live your truth, my brothers and sisters.

[dafoeposting]

Every instrument has an ideal way and place to be played. Now the artist often has a tricky and interesting path to finding that ideal, so it looks and sounds very different when they find it. But location is extremely specific and understandable.

Pianos should be played in a grand hall, equidistant from the side walls and about a third of the way between front and back.

Drums should be in a concrete box with every surface covered in carpets.

Sousaphones should only be played on the march in hosts of at least 6 to 8 thousand men.

But Grover Washington Jr. proved definitively in Winelight (1980) and Come Morning (1980) that the saxophone needs to be honking and blasting at the edge of a cliff or ridge line on a crisp autumn day, echoing and rolling off the treetops and bluffs. If you can get flocks of migratory birds overheard, I mean that’s just perfection right there.

[dafoeposting]

The most successful thing a band can do is be named The Warlocks, realize that although powerful it’s also indicative of a dark bargain that will get progressively more dastardly over a course of a long career, break your pact with your patron spirit, and change your name. The cosmic potential energy that gets released is an instant boon. The Grateful Dead channeled it and became analog artificer mages, riding the raw feedback to earth shattering bounds. The Velvet Underground bottled it in a bitter ferment, crafting an arcane brew which spread by word of mouth, unsettling and fomenting a cultural upheaval. ZZ Top just by association grew really long beards. I mean, what a wonderful field of study for the budding arcanomusicologist.

[dafoeposting]

Glam! Andy Warhol may have been a skinny drab soul, but Bowie wasn’t yelling about him in Hunky Dory (1971) because he was a fashion icon. No, he was yelling about him because Andy was right on the money as to the source of power. Glam comes from alien energy!

Shut your yap hole, I don’t mean actual extraterrestrials, I’m talking photons and neutrons from extrasolar stars. Aliens, I mean what will you think of next. The best aliens are human beings transformed by their absorption of starstuff. Hell, when Bowie was maximally on the stuff he even named himself Ziggy Stardust.

Then there was a 40 or 50 year low, pretty short term in the cosmic sense, but it creates a cultural gap. Luckily Starfox and the Fleet are around to keep the tradition alive.

[dafoeposting]

Bashcore? No, no, this ain’t no bashcore, and I would invite you to retract that accusation. You see, it’s the end of the world which means you can’t fire me, and you can’t find someone else to replace me. Now if you were to accuse me of listening to Death Metal, you’d be dead on the money, hoss.

The 80s and 90s were fucking peak. I’ve got a whole playlist of Dutch deathcore, Japanese goregrind, swedish cannibal anthems, and biblical gothic deathfish.

Good death metal is key to living a good life, goes in the same category as chocolate, stimulants, and two hour industrial accident video highlight reels posted on FAILNation.

[dafoeposting]

When America abandoned the industrial heartland, we gave up more than just our machine capacity. The economic destruction also ended a distinct and delicious flavor of cultural identity. The workman genius of something such as Just As I Am comes from a mind and body connection forged by getting the job done. The texture comes from pitted oil, paint, and grime in layer on top of layer. You want a voice like that again to appear? Then you need someone who can Get The Job Done.

You want alternatives? That’s fine, you can just rebrand regular country as industrial folk by taking photos carefully.