Playing the scapegoat game shuts down the vital debate

Oh for fuck’s sake not again. *sigh*, it appears we’re doing this Charleston again… I promise not to make it a regular feature, there are already online presences much better than my own making sterling work of keeping track of the Daily Mail’s torrent of bullshit. I received praise for last week’s article, particularly because it didn’t contain swearing which a lot of people thought was a big improvement on my usual drivel, but this one might not meet your extra high standards. Because racist scum-rag the Daily Fail is at it again, this time blaming the decidedly New Age cocktail of violent video games (Dark Souls specifically) ‘death metal’ and drug use to explain why a loathsome little creep decided to stab his 61 year old Spanish teacher to death at a Catholic school in Leeds.

Set the controls for the chart of the sun - The UK Singles Chart Top Twenty 27th of April 2014

Writing this at five to seven, awaiting the new chart in the same way I’m awaiting death, with an unironic sense of joy and anticipation. I am going to assume you’ve all been struck by how utterly facile the chart picks have been and the singles chart is all Pig Destroyer and Gnod singles. It is, right? The fiberglass-hollow crap that I’ve been listening to thusfar has not really enthused me as to the quality of chart music; but what has surprised is the amount of people who agree with me. Nobody has tried to defend chart music to me, everybody thinks it is utter vacuous nonsense, like its progenitors which begs the question: who the hell is buying this garbage? The people on the Guardian podcast think it’s schlock, my friends think it’s schlock regardless of their musical proclivities, so who buys it and can you stop please?

Heavy metal won't be your scapegoat anymore

[NOTE: All facts about this case are taken from the Daily Mail article unless otherwise indicated.]


*Sigh* I almost can’t be bothered doing this because anyone who reads this probably isn’t possessed cerebral club-foot of racism, homophobia, nostalgia, general paranoia and self-righteousness necessary to be a Daily Mail reader, and are aware that the hateful hypocritical dross pedalled on the awful obsolete little platform is probably just something we’ll have to deal with until all the participants have died of old age. But as always, it’s necessary every so often to call the Daily Mail out on its bullshit and today is that day. Because today this article appeared, placing the blame for a tragic teen suicide squarely at the feet of ‘dark music’. Firstly I must extend my sincerest condolences to the friends and family of Oliver King; as someone who has struggled with mental health myself, I know the feeling of having your own mind fight against you, it’s just tragic that Oliver didn't find the help he needed, and felt he had no way out.

I was gonna like the chart, but then I got high - The UK Singles Chart Top Twenty 20th April 2014

Dragonsmoke by Arik Roper
Sheena might be a punk rocker, and he’s in love with Janie Jones, but dear god, there’s no need to listen to Mastadon, no matter how good they used to be. The world’s gone a little crazy, it seems. We’ve given up looking for that missing plane that is either crashed/diverted to Diego Garcia/went through a wormhole [delete as appropriate] and the ‘joys’ of easter/ostara are upon us which some people celebrate by literally having themselves nailed to a cross, and yet others celebrate by eating chocolate eggs, in a brilliant example of what a quite literal broad church the church really is. Yet others celebrate it by being bitter. Would you believe one mad fucker asked me where all my In Search of Space tomfoolery has gone? My largely positive reviews of amazing underground records can be found monthly (though there are a whole whole lot of them) over at Muso’s Guide. Over time, as my mental and employment state has degraded, I have morphed this blog from what it was (a three year project for two young fogies to wax lyrical about their fave shite) into a dumping ground for my thoughts vaguely related to media, and my weekly column where I’m deeply horrible about chart music that in all honesty isn’t that offensive. I wasn’t even that much against Bieber for the longest time (the sort of final-form of pop music) because hey, he was a despicable little shit who badly needed to die, and I suspect there isn’t a slap in the face from life big enough to stop him now, but he wasn’t anywhere near me and I don’t see how following his every move and linking to it on twitter helps anyone but TMZ. He was singing songs that weren’t openly racist to an audience that seemed to like that stuff (until at least they turned 14 and got into Weedeater like everybody else) so why care? That’s why I didn’t do a chart column for the longest time. Research shows being angry breeds more anger, and life is too short to listen to bad music. Having said all that, I quite like getting thousands of clicks a week, so here’s this week’s chart. Which is worse than getting something really unhygienic lodged in a private area. Probably.

Authors note: Daaaw shit you stupid pricks. That Chris Brown song went UP seventeen places this week. How stupid are you? 

The Thrown Epps are the worst band in the world and you need them in your life immediately - IN SEARCH OF SPACE #208

Listen to the Thrown Epps Debasement Tapes while you read this benzadrine frenzy written with wild gesticulations interspersed with terrible headaches. And then listen to it again for the rest of time.

Are The Thrown Epps the worst band in the world? They seem to want us to think that. Formed from the unholy alliance of two of the westy coasty proto-grunge titans The Thrown Ups and Mr Epp and the Calculations, the Thrown Epps [see what they did there? Ed.] came together for a recording session-cum-live botheration in some grungy basement, presumably playing to an empty room, a barman and a coupla terrified rats. Sound-wise it’s like freeform jazz Comets on Fire being fed through a thresher and recorded on a dodgy tape deck. It doesn’t fit, at all. Aimless melodies, where nothing in the production points to listenability or enjoyment, not the Robert-Plant-howling-at-the-moon vocals nor the drowned and unimpressive guitar nor the track names (“Fuck You”, “No”, “You Were a Good Dog”, “I Object”). All of it is a deliberate and very real middle finger to the audience and to the wider world. A buncha over-the-hill past-it downhill-slope punks who weren’t big enough back in the day to be accepted into the mainstream now turning their backs on a world that gave them nothing, turned hash-addled geeks on the end of electric music. Like melted waxworks of former glory, the once and future masters of weirdo rock have returned and produced something genuinely revolutionary. I don’t mean it’ll give your boat a little wobble on a featureless lake, I mean if enough people grasp what these cunts are saying, through the grinding guitar madness and the vocals (or is that crowd noise?) then I predict mass hysteria. Lady GaGa recently made headlines in the conventional press by having a ‘vomit artist’ be sick on her, which is the most boring, conservative, middle-of-the-road ‘offensive’ act. You wanna hear something genuinely offensive? To your ears, and to the concept of society? You listen to the Thrown Epps, but not for long because they genuinely suck. It’s the least cynical record of all time. The concept of ‘pandering’ doesn’t exist for these handful of genuine radicals. In human terms they are the single atoms bouncing around the universe. They are all of us, in our darkest moments, and that’s why Debasement Tapes is essential, vital, bright and futuristic. If you want more. Try out our old-old-old recommendation בלטה. Play it and dance the dance of death.


Written under duress by Steven.

True Detective is afraid of itself

The latest Best Series Ever™ has come out of HBO, and it’s True Detective. An eight-part miniseries chronicling a sprawling 17 year murder investigation in rural Louisiana, and now that it’s concluded, it is possible to escape the interminable episode-by-episode breakdown mix of half-understanding and conjecture and analyse the series as a single entity. And as a whole True Detective just doesn’t work; the arse had really fallen out of proceedings by the time the disappointing and cliché-ridden finale slouched into view. It was clear what killed True Detective, a bizarre fear of its own success.


It's only a drug PROBLEM if you run out of drugs - The UK Singles Chart Top Twenty 13th of April 2014

It’s all true. God, it’s all true. Vaccinations cause cancer and autism and autistic cancer, the illuminati is running the world, as are the lizard people and the NSA and the Patriarchy™ (we have meetings every Tuesday while our faithful servants wash the glass ceiling). Chemtrails are killing you, the US is operating drones in foreign countries (oh, no, that’s a conspiracy). The orbital weapons platforms are real. Flight MH370 passed through a temporal anomaly allowing it to be shot down, diverted to Diego Garcia and transported to several different dimensions. 9/11, the Boston Bombings and the Glastonbury Festival are all made up to make you fear and worst of all I love pop music. That thoughtful stuff ain’t for me. Who wants to do a bunch of thinkin’ and crap? Nope, I like my music inoffensive, bland, and samey thanks and I don’t care who knows it. Yes indeedy, it’s week four of my ongoing quest to depress myself to death, and I’ve injected bleach into my mind and now I occupy the same intellectual level as the people who enjoy this shit. Yes, for a change instead of faux-intellectual snobbery to hide the fact I’m being horrible about a bunch of people far more talented and successful than I will ever be, I am going to listen to this week’s chart and actually try to like it.

Somebody's Gonna Get Their Head Kicked In: The Raid and the Raid 2

The original Raid was a lot of things; to most (including me) it was a boyhood dream made flesh. The basic plot of Die Hard meets the insane action-to-plot ratio of Hard Boiled, but while those films focused on gunplay, The Raid introduced the mainstream audience to the brutal ballet of Indonesian martial art Pencak Silat, and had its protagonists kick, punch and slice their way through the film at an astonishing pace. The plot was little more than a set up: a group of cops stage a raid on a highly fortified Jakarta highrise, but find themselves trapped inside with several hundred baddies between them and safety, the remaining 90 minutes were spent in a prolonged action sequence. The film was notable for its breath-taking pace, as well as director Gareth Evans’ spectacular fight choreography and imagination. It received criticism because of its boilerplate plot, but was a sleeper hit, so now it has a shiny epic sequel.


Never Mind the Bombings! Here's the Shit Pisstakes - The UK Singles Chart Top Twenty 6th of April 2014

With all the excitement of a depressed banker wetly hitting the pavement outside JP Morgan, a new chart was dropped onto a completely innocent world. This week I’ll be listening to the chart with my sister, who doesn’t have the same deathly gloomy outlook, so I will be inserting her observances when the mood takes me. Mercifully, there’s only four new songs in the chart because in addition to all the songs being the fucking same, apparently there aren’t even any new songs every week.

"OM, man!" - The UK Singles Chart Top Twenty 30th of March

“I really loved your chart rundown”
For years I have thanklessly coughed my deeply-held love of alternative music onto the internet, we’ve had two WORLD SCOOPS in the form of our reviews of OM’s Advaitic Songs and most recently the Body’s spectacular I Shall Die Here. We’ve talked with love, and warmth, about all manner of things for ages, and it turns out what I should have been doing all along is kicking the shit out of some defenceless chart music. Yes, that utterly unprovoked mauling given to the British chart last week netted me far more attention and hits than anything else we’ve ever done. So, never one to miss an opportunity for a quick buck, I’m doing it again. Several people requested that I do this monthly or weekly, so blame them. For the record, this feels like bullying, like going into the cancer ward at a children’s hospital and challenging them to a pressup contest. In the interests of making the world an improved place, I would like to direct you, if you don’t go anyway, to Anthony Fantano and the Needle Drop, who would never lower himself to this sort of cheapness, unlike me. Well fine, like an unlicensed doctor, we’re churning out another abortion.

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