Ugh. I feel horrible today....I'll save you the disgusting details, but, well...yesterday I met some friends of mine at the local Panera to have some coffee and bullshit about D&D. I've been jonesing for some good coffee for a while, and around Uniontown there aren't very many places to get even vaguely-good coffee save for the mini-Starbucks lodged in the foyer of the local Target and Panera. I hate Starbucks on general principles, but I haven't had the coffee at Panera in ages, so I figured I'd give it a try. So I ordered a mocha latte with soy milk--because I am frightfully lactose-intolerant--and the cute little highschool girl made it up and I sat down with my friends to get wired and get loud.
Apparently, the dumb little teenybopper twat doesn't recognize the different between cow milk and soy milk.
Today's jam, "Sliced Mucus Farts" by Otto von Schirach prettymuch describes, sonically, how I'm feeling right now. Otto is a complete and utter madman, a synth wizard of unparalleled insanity, and an all-around awesome guy...even though he has a disturbing fascination with tampons, puking, and lactating nipples. But hey, the guy makes great music, so who cares if he likes to dry-hump giant clams in Sumatra while wearing a Mexican sombrero, right?
Chopped Zombie Fungus (the link connects to the mp3 download edition of the album, which is cheaper, but you can find the CD easily enough), his third album, is actually a compilation of three separate EPs--and it's one of his strongest works...if by "strongest" you mean "completely stark-raving mad." Otto's funhouse versions of IDM--a slippery-enough term as it is--is a crazed salad of splattered beats, diarrhetic synth noises, gangsta rap, carnival sounds, and Herr von Schirach's stream-of-fucked-up-on-massive-amounts-of-ayahuasca-consciousness lyrics and moaning and burping and farting and....This is lunatic music, folks, but
nobody does such a thing with more humor and more excitement--and more sheer creativity--than Otto von Schirach.
"Sliced Mucus Farts" is composed almost entirely of sounds reminiscent of the frothing, gurgling, muttering tumult in my intestines, plus a pounding headache beat, alien voice fragments from the depths of your vermiform appendix, and a manic, running-the-the-bathroom frenzy of heavily-bitcrushed percussion splinters. It's a sick song that literally sounds like sickness...and, considering Otto made an entire EP out of sounds of him puking, there's nobody who can do this kind of evil electronica better--but don't worry, despite the title, this jam is not an exercise in sampling bodily functions: it's a satanic spasm of ill communication that will blur your reality for a few minutes and A) if you're not lactose-intolerant, you'll be thanking the gods you aren't; B) if you are lactose-intolerant, you'll probably find yourself saying, "Yep. That's what it feels like, alright."
