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: Simone Klimmeck
Hey man! Hey, haha! Happy New Year! Have you seen-I SAID HAVE YOU SEEN TOMAS?! IS HE HERE?? NO I DON’T KNOW WHEN HE’S COMING! WHAT? IT’S A VODKA GINGER! I gotta go find my friend, be back in a bit! MY FRIEND! YEAH, SEE YOU IN A FEW!
I spiral up from beyond the claws of dissociative anesthesia and empathogenocide to see my lascivious and hated lover 2012 rotting away beside me. Gray world drapes me in familiar cold as I drag it to the curb for removal. Now up, up and back into the warmth of my penthouse shell as both ego and super-ego deign to bob to the surface at last. Thank god; my id was getting lonely. Hey, world. Hey, haha! My new 2013 is such a turn on to me. I start getting excited. I whip out a calendar, turn that bad boy to January 1st. I slowly begin to stroke my mental faculties—not with the urgency I’ve felt of late but with a slow-burning sensuality, becoming once more an internal lover, mental-maintenance inamorato. Out with the cold, in with the now. Fever-slick and honey-sticky my imagined hands work faster, edging ever closer. Yet something nags at me even as I bite my lip in self-congratulatory ex-stasis. That’s when I realize: I’ve forgotten to close my front door! I looked over and noticed it was too late. 2013 was looking in with a big grin on his face and a very noticeable bulge in his pants…
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.
Trap music and Renaissance art in the same setting might make art (or, possibly, music) purists yell ‘Suffering saviors!’ in a funny Sylvester the cat voice, but from my perspective, it’s a perfect fit. Of course, unlikely combinations have always been very much my bag, baby, and all those rolling snares and bombastic samples combined with depictions of waxy-ass saints have been giving me extremely weird inspiration lately. I’m not exactly a virgin adoring the Host, but if someone could come do a reproduction of ‘Saint Catherine Drinks the Blood of Christ’ on the side of my cool party van, that would be awesome. If you could incorporate the giant Garfield sticker somehow too that would be nice.
Airhorns and autumn aren’t always good bedmates; sometimes you want to gather gloom about you rather than disperse it. Not to be a patripassian about it or anything, but there’s nothing like a dose of audio suffering when everything around you is dying. Those with a passion for heavy meds and heavy vibes will find solace in Youth A.D., Infection and Black Sheep Screaming; certainly it’s a tone appropriate for the looming elections in the US. And with Roseanne reaping 100% of the Trill vote, which slouching King will receive the Bleak Ballot? Money’s on Romney, but there aren’t any winners in that bet.
Of course, all this personal focus on religious art is ‘just for fun’. We’re damned, son! Where’d you find this?