Audioccult Vol. 13: The Unlucky One – Telekom Electronic Beats

Audioccult Vol. 13: The Unlucky One

Light a candle. Draw the required sigils. Now, raise your arms above your head and slowly, gently, exhale your soul. You won’t need it here. This is Audioccult, and it’s time to get low.

Luck is against me. I sit and stare at my screen but inspiration does not come. My mind breeds nihil, while outside a storm is born. I realize, then, that any pretense I have toward spiritualism of any sort is a phantom lie. The path to true awakening is stress and coffee. I layer noise, samples of World War II air raid sirens, foghorns, choir music, church bells. Homemade loops and vocals, over/under selected tracks and songs. Desolation and magick. Blah blah black sheep: a Lamb is born.

This self-creation, which has festered inside me for some months, comes about for three reasons:
1. Imagining hiding in Rihanna Nirvana, as picture above by House of LaDosha, has rendered me a stink-stash possibly (probably) only inspirational to myself. What can I say, ancient layers of Comme des Garçons helps me Comme des fuck down. Yes, like the hat.
2. The sensation of sickness combined with disorienting amounts of medicine and unhealthy amounts of Current 93 tracks. Comfy In Nausea.
3. Ash Borer‘s new testament:

Metal is not a genre that I necessarily approve of; long hair don’t care, but Ash Borer transcend the standard buttrock shock-talk with their dying-angel shrieks and endless wall of noise. It’s the same reason I enjoy Gnaw Their Tongues or Bone Awl—the raw, brutal beauty, the stink of beast. I really need to change my shirt.

Fabulous Diamonds have a different sort of beauty, the actual kind. The Australian duo’s last LP was an extension of their difficult pleasures, a soulsoak in a dronebath of wails, whispers and experimental synths. ‘Lothario’ is the first look at their forthcoming homecoming, overlapped vocals echoing an intoxicating chant that seeps into the bones and makes the mind’s eye weep. It’s what my heart yearns for: blow the trumpets.

I am reminded of my early desire to reconceptualize, to recreate past underground ideas with the mainstream sensibilities that enrapture the public. How many sat and watched as Britney Spears fell from grace into mental instability? How many traded their human decency for a perverse longing to see her burn herself up, to become the Great Pop Tragedy taken away by pills or alcohol or even a blaze of gunfire? Was it only me?

There’s a place here for beauty, however. Craxxxsoft reminds us all that o F F is Love, that summer is more than heat and sweat: it’s the world opening up, blossoming and becoming new again. Perhaps not so unlucky after all.

I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I have great fear inside me, I feel nervous and frustrated and occasionally hateful, despite a life that truly isn’t bad at all. My frustrations are (at least somewhat) self-imposed, my fears are insecurity, and my hate (a rare thing) is blunted by blunts. And if I die, let my execution be flawless.