♫ Plaitum - Diamondii
As the days passed into night and the nights drifted into weeks, I watched you mutate into a calloused, uncaring figure. Scars, rampant and oozing, adorned your scaly skin - like a copper netting weaving in and out over your cells. You would hiss and wheeze as you, labored by your heavy body, would begin to shift and twist wildly. Observing those around you with your eyes slit like scythes. Your tongue, swollen and flapping with no restraint, hindered your ability to communicate. Defensive, you would hear the words that fell before you and warp them until they were unrecognizable. And as those around you danced at your feet, you would begin to bat at them - pushing and shoving. Crushing and destroying. Mutilating and mauling those that strove for something more. Apprehensive ally. Cretinous colleague.
Plaitum’s sounds are as tender and bombastic as they are enchanting. Hints of doppler effect undulate and twirl - escalating at the most pivotal moments. And the samples - distorted and clandestine - playfully prod the impish cohorts that surge and hum. A celebration of anonymity - wondrous transformation.
Bonus: ♫ Plaitum - Geisha
Listen to more here.
♪ File under: electronic, booming, wait, what?!
♫ W0LCNUM - It will never be
Terribly aware, overwhelmed with terror and mounting nerves, I began gnawing at fingers. Drenched in sweat, my finger tips became pruned - wrinkled and rugosed. Biting harder, my teeth clenched tightly on the folded, rumpled skin that rested in between my front teeth. Pulling. Twisting. Gnashing. Chewing. Without much thought, I devoured the skin off my finger tips one after the other. Sometimes spitting, sometimes swallowing the salty, dry flesh that fell on my tongue. And after I finished ridding one hand of all branding, I instinctively removed the unwanted finger tips on my other hand. Adorned in blood and decay. Without identity. Anonymous animal - unnamed and uncredited.
W0LCNUM’s vexing and menacing track, “It will never be”, plays out like a demonic warning that what you desire will never occur. Luring you into the tenebrous reality that, maybe, your ambitions are foolish. Nebulous and murky, the synths drone and wail in languid anxiety as diabolical babble soliloquizes - terrorizes - amidst occasional sounds of guns ready to fire. Blasting - disturbing the building suspense. Urging. Warning
Get the 5 song Ep, “Sickness”, here.
♪ File under: dark, electronic, this is my (witch) house
As my eyes began to shut, I could feel my body drifting away. Lost in unconsciousness, I felt my muscles, my tendons, and skeleton slowly settle. My pained neck would pop and creak as my little bones shifted into their rightful place. At that moment, I realized I could still see through my illuminated, thin eyelids. Blackened specks, like small constellations, formed and danced across my fleshy lids. Grand light shows - like red dwarfs birthing - exploded and pulsated. I could feel my body twitching uncontrollably as my breathing became more shallow and labored. Unable to escaping this all consuming state, I eagerly succumbed to the celestial condition my id was humbly prostrating to. Astral awareness - transcendental, transmundane travels.
SVENG∆LI creates down tempo tracks that float and undulate through the cosmos. Late night, universe dancing with your best companion - your partner in crime - as synths glisten and glimmer across pitch-shifted samples. Anticipating what is to come after small, pregnant pauses tease for something more grandiose - the payoff realized. Nebulaic journeys - scintillating sounds.
Soundcloud | Tumblr
SVENG∆LI - Trust
SVENG∆LI - Current Conditions
♪ File under: electronic, down tempo, 2 step
♫ Ivvvo - With You
I would emerge, full of vigor and lust, at the silent, pitch black hours of night. Engulfed in flames, I would watch my beloved writhe and wiggle in vicious glee. My eyes, fixated in frustrated adoration, would intently watch you change shapes. The wanton vixen, the engorged pig, the frail imp - dancing carefree and shameless before me. Fully aware that this unison was only temporary, I became silently enraged - uncomfortable, anxious, and despondent. Forever vexed to observe you from afar - until that glorious, golden bell thundered and roared - relieving me from my libertine desires. Autonomous archfiend. Mephistophelic martyr - sacrificed for my rampant, lustful proclivity.
Filled with snaps, booming distortion, and impish pitch-shifted vocals, Ivvvo’s ep, “Her”, is a gorgeous, engaging entry to the darker electronic genre. Samples, often stretched and contorted beyond recognition, writhe and drift alongside the muted nebular, thundering bass lines. The gentle, stuttering reassurances nudge and pull - tugging at your reservations - hoping you abandon your worldly ties and become inundated with Hadic indulgence. Like slipping into the tenebrous tides - adrift in caliginous waters.
Get the 5 song EP, “Her”, here.
♫ Bonus: Ivvvo - Morning Dream
♪ File under: dark, electronic, this is my steez
♫ Lust - Dark Water
Fueled by wanton and rampant fantasies, you became preoccupied. Obsessed with the repugnant fables, you began to grow more and more distracted. At night, when the air was stagnant, you would rest your racing, throbbing head in your makeshift bed. Your night time stories - horrific and grotesque tales - were your extension of your suffocating adoration. Arms would bind and twirl, bones would splinter and shatter, teeth would clack and grind, and flesh would flower and fragment. Giddy, you would imagine sundered organs, cleaved and atrophied - exposed and exploding. Shriveled tongues would travel across parched and parted lips - lipsticked in liquid gore. Ecstatic, your head roll back and forth, creaking and cracking, as your small, eyes rolled back - swallowed and engulfed. Startled, you would jolt to back to consciousness - disappointed in your reclusive, ordinary reality. Secluded. Alienated. Woeful, fictional exterminator - drowning in your extirpating fabrication.
Lust, from Colorado, is dark, sensuous giallo-disco. Atmospheric, impeding doom intertwines with alluring, enticing, atramentous rhythms - delving into near-engulfing sense of debauchery. Whether it is the arousal of the senses in a non-horrific state or pure lascivious terror, there is an underlying hint of hedonism that envelops the constant sighing, exhaling instrumentation. Gruesome and persuasive apex - the pinnacle of panic - rising in a foreboding swell of sinister synths.
Get it here |Soundcloud
♪ File under: electronic, giallo disco
Concerned I would be remembered, I began an attempt to cover up the bloodied, crimson footprints I unwillingly left behind. My oily fingertips, stained from the gore, feverishly began to wipe away the reminders of brutality. Twirling. Snaking. Distracted by your weakened wails and lamentations as they echoed through the bare, carnage-tinged halls, I began to shake with madness. Hurried, I finished erasing the evidence of my existence when I realized that my work wasn’t near completion. Cracking my jaw, my twisted neck and back, I slowly snapped every contoured vertebrae in place. Determined to extinguish every sign of my existence. Vehement vanquisher. Eager exterminator.
Portugal’s Purple embraces and creates dreamy, instrumental gothic soundscapes. Foggy and lush, with ambrosial, vexing synths that creep and ascend - often lurking, crawling, slowly escalating to a gentle, intoxicating build. The instrumentation wails and moans while accompanied by clandestine, unsure handclaps. Until the crescendo, humble and hesitant languidly reveals itself. Unknown, coaxing provocateur - convincing you to abandon all inhibitions.
Download the EP here.
♫ Bonus: Purple - Escaping to the Mountains
♪ File under: electronic, dark
♫ Black Marble - Pretender
Unable to shake the rituals embedded within your soul, you began to execute what you felt you were obligated to do. Barely shaking sleep from your fragile and failing bones, you began your journey your designated spot. With each step, your knees would crack and splinter - soaking the cloth in a copper hue. Muttering words of encouragement, your mantra of determination, you would grip your broken hand tighter around the knapsack filled with trinkets of nostalgia. Alone and frightened, you made your way to your secret destination - shrouded in mystery and horror. Your gauzed, swollen face began to tremble as you openly carried out your purpose. Shivering, sutured shaman. Plastered and dressed.
Dark, jangly goth pop from Brooklyn’s Black Marble. Akin to 80’s goth pop, Black Marble conjures up images of mellifluous misunderstandings, yearning psyches, and aching woeful youth. As the guitars twang and tangle, synths dance and shriek amidst the lo-fi hints of muted musings. Classic.
Get it here | Soundcloud
And check out their “Flowers In The Attic” video for “Pretender” here:
♪ File under: gothpop, lo-fi, coldwave
O, how my pleas fell upon deaf, unwavering ears. Stern and standing upright, towering before my shivering, quaking knees, you delivered your frightful sermon of injustice. Your voice boomed and thundered, as your spiteful tongue pushed out toxic psalms. Placing your engorged, calloused hand upon my sweat-ridden brow, you changed to intonations of removal - desiring to sequester that which I had become. As a mountain before me, you gesticulated your desires and propositions. Soliciting. Shrieking. Shouting. Spitting. Stomping. Striking. Unable to withstand the pressure building in my brain, my neck began to mimic writhing, serpentine movements. Fully fatigued, my cervical vertebrae finally snapped in two. My eyes rolled entirely in the back of my head as my arms flailed and danced. Overcome with extreme, enraged bravado, you applauded wildly. Bedeviled, demented disciple - phantasmagorical devouring.
The Long Wives is the solo work of one artist - Brandy St. John. She creates vexing, intriguing goth-folk compositions with little more than a guitar (sometimes a piano) and a rich nebulous voice. On the edge of breaking - near enthrallment - crooning and cooing to entice the malignant spirits which cavort and frolic in promise of possession. A tortured troubadour recalling remorseful, tales of woe and captivation.
♫ The Long Wives - Holy Water
♪ File under: dark folk, goth folk, freak folk, my kind of folk
I will confess how taxing writing short pieces of prose can be. With every piece, I find myself trying to fit the music - to conjure a story which fits the mood, the lyrics, or even artwork. This entry for “Fluttersad”, is a different story all together. It feels a little silly trying to create a “serious” composition when staring at artwork of a small, timid, teary eyed yellow pony that represents “kindness”.
The track itself sparkles and undulates with pitch shifted, warbling samples begging and reassuring, “fluttershy, why are you sad? don’t you cry..” Clandestine, small shrieks interject - squeaking and chirping - bleating over pounding beats. Truly addicting.
Get more here |
♪ File under: electronic, my little pony, pretty pony
♫ Basketball Camp - Culverss
Frustrated by the lack of urgency, the cloak of contentment, I began the rush to resolve the situation that bordered on the edge of destruction. That pounding sense of justice, the drive of freedom, further propelled my actions. As I could only utter so many stuttered words, limited by my hushed and muted vocabulary, I sought resolution in my actions. The brutal carnage, the violent invasion, the glorious tear of flesh from bone - every calculated dance of duress - a cavorting assault accompanied by rufescent, gore drenched knives and shattered bones.
Basketball Camp creates dark electronic music accented by pounding rhythms and fluttering synths. Samples, cut and placed in the right spots, accent the track like misting, impish stops and starts. Like glitched out patterns of speech - faltering and failing to fully portray what you wish to say. Inarticulate, tongue-tied, vanquisher - reduced to unpronounced, unspoken jargon.
♪ File under: dark, electronic, free throw line
Engrossed in my grotesque transformation, I would pick the scabs that began to manifest on my once delicate, nimble, pink flesh. The new, scaley skin would easily break as I squeezed and pulled. Hoping to eject every drop of poisonous blood that was now coursing through my translucent veins, I created a nightly sanguine ritual. Afraid of digesting the vile, contaminated liquid, I would expectorate fluids until it was tinged red - splattering the porcelain with crimson, Pollock-esque drops. As I rose to survey the specks, I could feel the hemoglobin slowly disintegrating - what was once aqueous was now lose and gritty. I was constantly flaking, shedding and discarding the greying skin off my saddened and desperate body.
KnO▼1edge’s “Dvvn There,” is a deeply textured track which flirts with a darker, vexing side. Accompanied by claps and bewitching, distorted samples, they play out like a gradual unraveling of what once was. Impish voices taunt and play - coaxing - begging - wanting desperately to appease - until you have no choice but to succumb to whatever urges you so desperately longed to deny.
♫ File under: electronic, dark
One bitter, cold winter morning, I saw you cast my bones into the cleansing fire. After sending your deepest well wishes, your would hurdle my femur, my scapula, and fibule into the sparkling embers. You held my mandible in your right hand as you uttered disembodied mantras of protection and damnation. Ashes and crimson, glistening organs, housed in your knapsack - you departed far into the woods - to bury our secret, our vulgar and divine cryptic service. Your varicosed, blistering feet could barely hike the daunting incline which was so cruelly taunting your efforts. Deciding to rest, you unraveled the cloth and plastic. Kissed in rufescent hues, you admired the now intestinal carmine flower, blooming before your eyes.
Mokadem’s minmal track, “Dunt u”, climbs to a slow build while sampled, pitch shifted vocals flutter alongside the heart-heart thump of the bass and ivy-esque beats. And then, as if to interrupt the cosmic mediation, a muted, distorted synth disturbs the foggy, stellar shroud. The track never fully breaks but hangs in this measured, tempered limbo. Like a celestial, empyrean, out of body experienced touched by languid realizations of what is to be.
♪ File under: electronic, minimal
Upon introspection, I came to the realization that you were my unwilling savior. Donning that mask, composed of uneven pieces of cowhide, you were a caricature of humanity. When spoken to, you would answer only in grunts and growls. As was custom, you would signal the start of our feast with your guttural, gnarlish vocabulary. Your singing instrument of destruction held high over your head. The glorious, victorious pose - twisting and twirling - set against the backdrop of the blood stained sun. How the overpowering, humming filled my ears - the horrific, hellish buzzing - the cracking of bones underneath the rusty bone saw - the squishing and squirting of the cocktail of flesh, blood, and push. An overture of anguish. Grizzly gourmand.
“Lines and Not Lines,” by TEMPLE DE∆TH, creeps and crawls like hesitant ivy alongside an abandoned building. It inches and pauses only to met with an urging oh and ah - a sign of assurance - of reluctant security. As the claps boom and pound slowly against the screaming, distorted imps, it regains it composure - set proudly in its serpentine stature. Mystic magnetism - wanton wizardy.
♪ File under: witch trance
I watched the words fall lovingly from your pale lips. As you spoke in a slow motion, I stood mesmerized and paralyzed before you. You would put your tremoring hand on my sweat-stained forehead - baptising and anointing me in a crimson, syrupy solvent. I could perfectly map out the pastel blues of your serpentine veins and the majestic, enlarged tendons that swelled and deflated with the movement of your haggard, gaunt hands. The stained cloth which served as your concealing gauze, would slowly start to unravel with every movement, exposing your bruised flesh. Your gaping wounds were visible; they would ooze murky blood and milky pus. Your fibrous ligaments, lacerated and split, could barely house your failing construction. Inching closer, I gasped in amazement at your level of functioning - your driving resolve. Speaking words of adoration through your tongueless and cracking lips, your warm and foggy breath traveled down the length of my tilted neck. Striving to fuse, amalgamate - my ingenious, intoner idol - scintillating, severed, serenader.
Mask Man, from Britain, creates turbid, misty witch house. Synths wail and screech while throbbing, pulsating beats flirt with aching melodies and distorted, subaquatic impish voices. The familiar, impeding sense of doom, calamitous intonations, crawls and creeps until it meets with its welcome destruction - an embodiment of the abraded and accepting. Uniting in mellifluousness, bedeviled kismet.
♫ Bonus: Mask Man - Wigi Boards
Get the whole set here.
♪ File under: dark, electronic, witch house, no face
♫ BLZRS - W3 AR3 BLZR$
My breathing became shallow with every push - the cracking of my broken chest. Your virulent stance, pressing and oppressing my feeble, near splintering sternum, grew more triumphant as the pressure swelled. Stifled and squirming, I desperately struggled to escape your sadistic flirtation. Asphyxiated amour - succumbing to the shattering sound.
BLZRS is not for everyone. Those that have a particular aversion to distorted, blown out ear-to-the-speaker beats, will find most of BLZRS’ sounds loathsome. The bass throttles and pulsates - bombastically and defiantly - as if they are striving to escape their restraints. Grimy, ashy, writhing, mellifluousness housed under intriguingly mangled rhythms.
BLZRS is playing tonight alongside Born Gold & Old Arc in Santa Cruz @ Pioneer.
♫ Lana del Rey - √1D∑Ó G∆M∑$ (M∆DD3N refix)
I would maintain my composure as the verdict was laid to rest. As the crowd shouted exclamations of disbelief mixed with those of support, I was escorted, gingerly, off the stage. Soft, reassuring hands would wrap around my wrists - leading me to my doom. They would place me at a table - blindfolded and bandaged - urging me to partake of this vexed foodstuffs. Unable to swallow, I nearly began choking upon the disgusting sustenance they disguised as a reward. At this moment, I truly understood their intent. In all their deceit and niceties, they begged me to reveal the deeply hidden secret that I had buried deep within my psyche. Paralyzed with anguish, I watched them throw the provision on the floor. Ravenous, rabid hounds tore into the fodder - howling and shaking with delight. One by one, those coaxed, frightened witnesses jolted out of the wooden pews shouting name in hesitant decloration. Forsaken fidelity - my gorgeous overseer now doomed.
M∆DD3N’s dragged out refix of Lana del Ray is perfect, slow-motion, Lynchian love song. An invitation to succumb and surrender - to forsake all that is reality and submit to the fantasy.
Listen to more here.
♪ File under: dark, drag, refix