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. Illustration: SHALTMIRA
A weekend of promotion, DJing, bass, and Sunn O))) live has left me vibrating, my throat raw and oozing smoke. I am now equal parts salve, salvia, and salivation, consuming an endless karmic wheel of pizza, and it is something like bliss—exacerbated beautifully by the new My Bloody Valentine album. I never thought I’d see a feed made up entirely of the words ‘MBV’, ‘Superbowl’, and ‘Beyoncé’ but a bounty was given unto me and I’m reaping that pop star ballage. Bowl Ball doggin’ time, so I turn to The Sports and a Rick Owens adspot hits me like a dog in a cloak on a t-shirt. “This is Rick Owens for Big Dog,” gothdog Owens smiles, holding up an angular shirt with familiar baller pooch emblazoned affront. “THESE AREN’T DROP CROTCH PANTS,” the drawing shrieks, as Big Rick flexingly flips to the back. “MY HUGE DOG DICK JUST TOO HEAVY.” 1500€, buy it in Paris.
Sewn Leather collaborator DJ Dog Dick ‘s crunkpunk is pure mutant houndology, timeless weirdness that corkscrews beneath the skin. His new EP on HOSS casts surrealist snythglares of the lo-fi sort, as grimy as they are catchy: think drunk children with Casio keyboards, but ya know… really sick and cool, mannn. I saw this guy a few years back, and he was screaming and screaming and I just kept thinking, “I hope this isn’t the whole show, I hope he does more than this,” and it turns out he was just screaming, he wasn’t even on yet, and he came up and shook my hand and told me how much cooler I was than everyone who made fun of me at school. This is from my Dream Diary, by the way. I’ve seen a lot of things in my time.
If you aren’t following the godly Mutant Sounds, you’re missing a lot of bizarre and fascinating music. Thanks to them, I’ve thoroughly soaked my brain in Igor Wakhavitch‘s incredible compositions for years now. A blend of classical orchestration and avant-garde electronics, Wakhavitch embodies that very 1970s spirit of noise-drenched psychedelia in which the roots of industrial, No Wave, and post-rock are all clearly present. Fans of such things would also be wise to seek out Cromagnon as well, for a wilder (but equally magikal) aural rite.