(((O)))

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Dead Man's Bones

Dead Man's Bones is the music project of actor Ryan Gosling (Stay, The Notebook, Murder By Numbers) and Zach Shields. The best way I can describe their style would be Gospel Horror Bog Zombie Folk Indie. It's rather fresh and new which surprised me. I read in an interview with them that they tried to make sure that most of their mistakes they made while recording were added to the album. Kinda neat if you ask me. Their self titled album comes out October 6th and I would highly suggest you all check it out. Here are a couple of tracks I quite enjoy:

Pa Pa Power

In the Room Where You Sleep

My Body's a Zombie for You

Existential Paradox Art in Route to the West

I acquired a collection of fibers that would grant me flight to the wonderful land of disillusion. I had never misplaced my time in such areas, so I allowed such transitions to occur. The first obstruction that presented itself to me was the fact that my documentation of such travels began its first two sentences with the letter “I”. From an existential mind this would have no serious threats to me, for it was “I” who put them there and it was “I” who decided to so abruptly say, “fuck you grammar, this is my essay and if ‘I’ want to start my essay with ‘I’ twice, then ‘I’ am going to do it!” The inherent problem with this is that I hate existentialism, and also hate it when documentations or publications of any form contain repetitive words. After that rant, and the one about to be mentioned, I have placed what looks like the first Roman numeral in my spewings eleven times. My concerns with such egotistical implications, is that when attempting to describe a simple trip to Hollywood to see Chris Mars’ new gallery, long winded tangents of referring to oneself have bored or frightened about forty to fifty-six percent of the readers off. Jarid (as to avoid anymore “I” problems Jarid has decided to switch to the third person) apologizes for such horrid actions and will now continue with what he intended on writing about (that being an overly wordy pretentious surreal documentation of a trip to Hollywood).
Jarid ventured fourth into the perturbed sea of fast alloys and inconsideration. His aspirations whispered sweet nothings into his ears as he attempted to not end the pulse of himself or those around him. A giant sleek metal bird awaited him, set to leave the crust in two collections of sixty minutes. Upon arrival to the nest of said birds, Jarid climbed through an artificial gash placed on the side of the bird in order to prepare for such leaps of space. All too soon, the pungent odors of fame and wasted papered scripts would be writhing throughout his body, and the sad sorry fool did not even see it coming. Jarid soon realized that the flight had not even taken off and he had rambled on for more than a page now, and aimed to repair such atrocious acts on his part. The flight made it to Hollywood safely, he was unsettled by all the crazy people in Hollywood, he saw Chris Mars’ gallery, and then he went home, the end.
While reading literary collections on art, one can notice the immense forests of words one must venture through to arrive at a coherent story. To some this could be considered an enjoyable process, while to others an inefficient waste of time and paper. But what of those writings that contain both the forest and the straight forward? Obviously it is a completely original idea that has never been done before and the brilliant author of such creations should be praised for his genius and giving high markings on his works. Or, he could be scolded for switching viewpoints mid-essay and claiming to do something original in a trite stale world where everything has been done before rendering himself a stuck up liar. He shall leave these conclusions up to you. Good luck.

New Shit... Oops I Meant to Say Wickson! Same Thing

The next Wickson! album is possibly going to be recorded with an actual keyboard and not music loops. This is just me messing around a bit. I thought I would put it up here to see what you all think. I don't know how to play anything really so it probably sounds very shitty and I am sure a final product would have beats and other layers added to it. So based off that, what you think?

Scared

I am going to try to make a top ten albums and top ten songs of the 2000's... This is gonna be ugly. I expect much debate, loss of sleep, and minor drug habits forming during the process of picking them out. Damn the torpedoes!

Bigbadaboom

Lately I have been finding myself thinking about the end of world. This is mostly because of my insane boss who thinks the bible can tell us how UFO's can fly through space at such great speed and that you can find out the exact day an time Jesus was born by measuring the length of one of the pyramids in Egypt. This being said I have been looking around and witnessing the happenings of our lovely planet and realizing that we are kinda going downhill. Not that I think we are heading to an end, but shit is going down, and if you are into that whole Mayan calender thing we is fucked circa December 21st 2012. Now I could get into a long speculative rant about how this is going to happen, if it will happen, what we should be doing to avoid it, and other bullshits, but I think I am just going to post some songs that I think fit into ugly world/end of worldness. Let us begin class!


Screenwriter's Blues (Live) - Soul Coughing
Lyrics

This song is not about a doomsday scenario or anything like that, but I think it paints a rather lovely/ugly picture of out mindset in this day and age. To me this way of life will lead to a drab conclusion of our existence. We are becoming boring fuckbots who seek cheap thrills, though the line about the sun does bring a bit of hope. The sun will rise tomorrow, with or without you.


Road to Peace - Tom Waits
Lyrics

Tom Waits in more on the road (no pun intended, though it's not really a pun... eh, no using a line similar to the song title intended? Meh) to the doomsday thing. To me, the life style and mindset from Soul Coughing's song will lead to a world like this (which when I look around I am seeing). That being said, it sucks. My favorite line from this song is ," Maybe God himself is lost and needs help." I don't like this because it's dissing God, I like it because it's telling us we gotta suck it up and make some changes for ourselves. Yes, it would be nice if we could sit down and ask some supreme dude to stop raining shit down on the world, but (this being if God does exist) what if he/she/it is just as scared as us and confused. We gotta step up and make changes for ourselves, or accept our demise.


In This Twilight - Nine Inch Nails (Sorry I couldn't find a downloadable mp3)
Lyrics

This song is what we is heading for I believe. While Mr. Reznor paints the last day of life beautifully, it is not what I would like to happen. I like living, ya know? There isn't much else to say about this song. We die, sky is pretty, Trent is the shit.

Yeah so that's that. Maybe if we're lucky the ice caps will melt, we'll all drown, and Al Gore will die laughing.

Pine-Sol

This is the part of me that needs medication
This is the part of me that believes in heaven
This is the part of me that thinks outer space is all dead
This is the part of me that wishes it was with it
This is the part of me that's trying to be funny
This is the part of me that loves my parents
This is the part of me that thinks that ants are cavemen
This is the part of me that thinks all humans are ants
This is the part of me that learns from sitcoms
This is the part of me that means nothing
And I don't know
Where I could go away and you could wish
That I had stayed or just stayed gone
And I don't know
And I don't know at all
So, out of the context and into what you meant
And you know your reasons
You don't know who you are
But you know who you want to be
I don't know
So you go to the library to get yourself a book
And you look and you look
But you didn't find anything to read
And I don't know at all
Left all my kinder parts rusting and peeling
That guy was complaining as he looked at the ceiling
My nose isn't that big, it looks nothing like me
We're all doctors trading sadness for numbness
Grass looks much greener but it's green-painted cement
The mayor's machines are there cleaning the pavement
You can't make dirt clean so we'll just lemon-scent it

-I.B.-