clintcatalyst: Agreed, @BloodyBlack — #Permission mag, ever-ruling! My URL that looks like 1998 coughed up an HTMHellball, other hand? Waving white flag […]
clintcatalyst: Alright, @BloodyBlack ♥ You mean this pic, http://t.co/lU6clk2b correct? If so, ran in #Permission mag — anthology/book form, this fall! […]
clintcatalyst: Hey @littleepisodes, while you're hosting fundraisers? http://t.co/QN90bC5X has illegal @AmazonKindle DLs of yr books @tumblr. #SOrebellious […]
clintcatalyst: Oh, in case you didn't notice @thegrumpyowl —That last tweet of mine? #follow endorsement, ever was one. [MeaningHe'sEntertaining,Kids! FFS] […]
clintcatalyst: "So Testis it can be, the road to salvation — though some say 'taint..." @katebornstein [ Twit-image attchd, not sp@m ] http://t.co/iyvs2Y9x […]
clintcatalyst: Any rate, remember the shoot v well @BloodyBlack — also stoked, "Best Of"/book version of [that] mag comes out this fall. Good times! ♥ […]
clintcatalyst: Speaking of sly, howevs: me, w/ web-tech @BloodyBlack? Ha. Wanted to re: image you mntd, but can't get a single link, janky site gallery! […]
clintcatalyst: I know, right @MissDestructo? Why, I might even click "Fave" on this tweet. Precaution, totes/obvs...can't let you know I've seen it! #sly […]
though rather than my own hyper-hyphenated description, please allow me to offer verbiage of Thee Almighty Blam Lord —[ whom I adore, incidentally ]— via re-bloggification / review of mix #62 : Flashing Heat and Spinning Wild Desire
” Thee dark alt god himself, Clint Catalyst descended onto TXTBK’S CHVяCH XV BяXK3N 7ANGvAG3 and pummeled thee sound tonight. Gliding gracefully through cavernous depths ov dance and depravity I absolutely loved his whole persona. And all guns instantly went off in Blambodia when he complimented me on my music taste in thee chat. Thee natives chests all swelled with pride. INFINITE BLAM.
Though the only information I’ve been able to find
[ via The Juke ] :
” BATHAUS is an ‘artist/collective/phantasm’ working in sound distortion, performance, photography and video. BATHAUS uses new media combined with analogue techniques to produce spectacular performances which integrate original sound and video projections, as well as live movement and dance pieces. The flickr page includes photographs and manipulated stills from the original video pieces. The videos are projected and shot using a Minolta Freedom III 35mm camera with expired film. “
Some of you may recall my excitement over “Cø††øN,” a track “influenced by Cottonmouth Kisses”
that the low-fi sigil-slingers known as I†† [eye doublecross] conjured not long ago
This release is limited to 75 copies, so if you’re interested?
Wouldn’t be wise to nap on this one, chap . . .
And hey — of the 75 copies, subtract a digit :
from the comments left between now and January 31,
I’ll choose a name at random. Yes, it’s that time again : reader give-away!
[So uh, make sure to provide a valid email address . . . Please, that is. And thanks]
I†† create dopamine-drenched spectral [anti]pop, nightmare lullabies rife with occult symbolism
and mysteries that unfold themselves with each listen.
Said another way?
Click the links. Leave a comment. GET SOME
I†† [ eye doublecross ] is not just a band;
they’re “a low-fi hypersigil, casting spells in various mediums .”
[CUE EXAGGERATED SHRUG]
Cool by me, brah.
Though when I discovered the basis for “Cø††øN”—
the latest single the duo conjured & released into the world
was [quote] “influenced by [ my book ] Cottonmouth Kisses” ?
Well, the excitement level racheted a bit Richter, not gonna lie. . .
No need to elaborate, nor to “re-visit”. . .
but we’ve all had at least one friend whose
band/stand-up comedy act/spoken word performance —
[ thought I'd keep the playing field fair ]
Y E A H .
You get it/You get it/You get it
Amidst the deafening silence & painful anecdotes that aren’t being shared at this moment,
here’s what is :
Also, two other ways in which this obstinate child of mine
continues to make its mark upon the world
[ however great or small that may be ] :
Eleven years since the effer premiered in print, yet not till this turn around the calendar—
Two Thousand Eleven A.D.—is when a song about it was inked,
so to speak. . .
If you’re not able to read the quotation obscured by my likeness?
That strand of syllables won’t be found among the pages of Cottonmouth Kisses,
but rather within the Degeneracy: A Love Letter project —
which I’m hereby placing ‘on the market’
ISO some serious match-making. . .
Said another way? Prospective publishers, literary agents, &/or
friends/kins/neighbors of the aforementioned?
How you fill my shattered, charcoal-stained heart with glee.
There was a moment—a brief blip on history’s collective monitor, one might say—in which
the tiara-adorned Scene Queen had a significant role in the inexplicable phenomenon
referred to as “ CeWebrity .” [ Yes, I know it's heinous. Do I need to spell every— ]
[ CUT TO ] : a formulaic Wiki How ; How-To & TributeVideos ; an on-line ‘zine & social
networking community ; hubs like Be-Scene.org & Scene Central, a virtual locale for
“ladies in waiting” [ no, but really ] & aspiring Scene Kings to—hell, I don’t know…
compare quiz scores while waiting to see if their applications for anointment
were accepted, I suppose.
Some of the O.G. S.Q.s [ yep, sure did ] parlayed their notoriety into lucrativebusinesses.
Others? Well, I’m sure they could tell you.
Short of the long: this amalgamation fictitious character encapsulates the monstrous end of the spectrum,
in which rigid Ranking Systems and bratty, entitled behavior is the norm.
[ Mmm-hrmm. Yeah, whatever Nikki. Bet your skank-ass extensions you'd troll efagz to see if your asinine antics merit discussion, even. ]
But enough about Nikki—she’s so 2007, I’m surprised she isn’t donning a miniature top hat smothered
in Hello Kitty appliques while “modeling” a cupcake, middle finger of her other hand
extended in that universal gesture of bad breeding.
What I’m really here to talk about?
The Correctness Maximus who immortalized her : GL▲SS †33†H
It’s like this:
What you need in your life is a physical copy of their EP
available through Black Bvs Records
Unless, of course, you’re like Andie Walsh & have more pressing issues…
Bank-Thievin’, Blood-Thirsty Nuns;
Russian Roulette With Fearless Punks;
An Abrupt & Vulgar Wriggling of The Pierced Tongue-In-Chic
That’s As Uncomfortably Humorous As It Is
Sexy & Sadistic—
E x p e r i e n c e
“Sádicios Infernal”
Visit the Black Bvs Records shop for the CD-R La Main Gauche,
on which both tracks appear:
How have relations with your peers been as of late?
Have any of your friends seemed distant, unavailable? Perhaps a bit stand off-ish?
Or even worse: has anyone begun to treat you with suspicion? Spoken to you with a distrusting tone?
Conducted a rash & volatile act upon your arrival—say, for example, the frenetic strumming of an
acoustic guitar to the tune of a [quote] “power ballad”? &—if dare say that be the case—was
aforementioned ::SHUDDER:: stadium serenade coupled with an egregiously off-key
rendition of lyrics such as “Don’t Stop Believin’”?
(Stop. Believing. What?!)
Quite frankly, do you feel as if your interests incite an impending sense of moral panic?
Are you persecuted… for your taste in music?
In †hee Name Ov DELTΔ DELTΔ DELTΔ‘s Sacred †ri-Force
(an equal opportunity destroyer: for the xx, xy & x”whatever”/transitioning set),
TRUST: We understand.
Aha! &
Just as I expected: Fokkawolfe
is T H E E . A N S W E R .
— for his —
Prolific updates, finger not just on the proverbial “pulse” or clichéd “trigger,” but rather the plunger of a 1 cc mainlining psychostimulant drogas directly from that four-chambered metronome nestled within one’s ribcage to the pleasure center of readers’ brains, flooding dopamines in a tsunami of methamphetamaniacuphoria, burning serotonin at such a deliciously dangerous–& dangerously delicious–rapid-fire rate, it’s been rumored that the back of some readers’ skulls have been blown open as if their pupils bulls-eyed all six chambers and short-circuited before the spinning even began: no need for the thrill of Russian Roulette when Fokkawolfe’s here EFFING. KILLING. IT.
(& the rat-tat-tat-tat of exclamation points forage ahead, slaughtering daughters & posting cyanide-laced syllables that cement those blandular brooklyn blogs deeper, deeper still into the myopic ‘no maan, nobody’s doing that/this is how it is’ mentality in which they’re mired [though not admired]…)
Whatever higher powers may be,
HALLELUJAH & INORDINATE AMOUNTS OF GRATITUDE TO ± FOKKAWOLFE ±
The soundtrack to this shard of aesthetic brilliance cloaked in thunder-storms & mythological references
appears on ℑ⊇≥◊≤⊆ℜ (of Mater Suspiria Vision)’s Zombie Rave Mix-Tape: Special Friday the 13th Edition
for Мишка >>> referenced H E R E , with free download available <<<
However, I’ve remained so entranced by the video for “La Main Gauche“—as well as
the mu§ic-makers, about whom scarce information is—I feel it imperative to share
T H E . L E F T . H A N D
which
dazzles with shadow-spun mythological references, dopplegangery, trianglecore images primed for
endless tumblr•re•appropriation, histrionic body language & wickedbitchen cathedral slinking-
in-a-crawl/crawling-as-a-dance dreamstate sequences, an obfuscated mingling of the sacred/
the profane.&.the arcane, mesmerizing esoterica, symbols & symbology nursed on
preternatural mystery & the occult, sex-driven serpent-fisted circular-spotlit
nonchalant stares, venomous glares interspersed with curious ’blowing’
gestures, question marks raised like [Lady] Lazarus
(just “on the mark” enough to entice one to immediately hit ‘play’ again, then
again, & again—then, even . . . )
when
all the while, visuals charged with emotional explosives continue swirling into wide-eyed consciousness,
raising & rising, arising from a forecast of otherwise placid internet ethers/the collective ‘blue screen life’
in which this clip exists is a hook too tempting not to get hooked on
(& on that hook, one’s heart):
It’s one of chaos: there’s prattle over terminology in the insular world of ‘outsider music,’ &
I can’t help but be amused. Y’see, the English language has these things called “labels,”
& the reaction people have to them reinforces the power of nomenclature. Give it a try sometime:
arrange a few consonants & vowels, toss ‘em around, see what kind of response you get. Fetch, baby…It’s Fetch.
But what if the words aren’t words but rather occult symbols/symbology? I’ve often wanted to speak in
hieroglyphics—with cartoon captions, for added effect—but I just can’t seem to get
band names like †‡† & \\\^◊^/// to dance their way off my tongue.
They’re part of a scene that—as with any ‘scene’—seems to have as many detractors as
devotees, which I think is a good thing. On one manicured claw, there’s the trappings of
being pigeon-holed; on the other, opportunities that might present themselves through
being Guilty By Association. Rather than tl;dr the obvious, how about I introduce
the genres? Sub-genres? (Again: an argument I opt to file under None Of My Business)
of
Witch House † Ghost Drone † Zombie Rave † Drag
With origins as questionable as to what extent they’ll have an effect, they’re like
strands of the same virus—or a dark & murky exploration
into a game of Choose Your Own Adventure.
Whatever the case, I’m backin’ the brilliant post “Enthralled By Thee Witch” by My Pal The Crook
(creative director,co-owner & founder of the streetwear line Мишка NYC), who describes this mysterious burgeoning mileu as
“Goth music for a new generation & a new millennium, fully embracing all the things
that drew kids into the genre through the 70s and 80s—the secrecy, the occultism, the suspense,
the danger, & the moodiness—but minus all the things that turned people off from it in the 90s:
the neon dreads,the vinyl pants, the fangs, & the platform industrial boots.”
Fucking dead-on, that! Brings to mind a relevant aside from Hex Files: Resurrection to which
I’m hereby formally applying an asterisk… I’ve got a choke-hold on A.D.H.D. at the moment,
& want to turn you on to the prolific nightmare collective that MPTC’s blogature
high—or, rather: LOW—lights, & whose death drones & surreal liquid dreamscapes
have been dominating my laptop as of late.
A toxic gumbo of the terrifying and terribly terrific, MATER SUSPIRIA VISION is a brilliant composite:
The music they craft induces ripples of gooseflesh; the visual accompaniment renders a viewer spellbound.
ℑ⊇≥◊≤⊆ℜ —another challenge in the dept of pronunciation—of MSV creates maddeningly
ultra-limited-edition sets (the first of which was capped at a hundred downloads; the next, at 200;
the third, bumped to 300…a supply nowhere near ample, nonetheless).
The Special Edition that’s linked above, however, has an
✶ OPEN-ENDED DOWNLOAD POLICY ✶
( Translation: You want it? Then G E T . S O M E ! )
