"Bloated on Mammalian Flesh"

IllCon Illuminati. This 6 song Apocryphon disc was discovered in a cave located outside modern day Afghanistan by Ancient Astronaut Theorist, Giorgio A. Tsoukalos. Nearby were a pile of post-Cretaceous period fossils and humanoid remains. Tsoukalos has speculated that "The demented tones contained within this recording were probably made by aliens, maybe. It definitely is advanced technology, and the square shape of the wooden container leads me to believe that it was manufactured by extra-terrestrials, because aliens like four sided things. Like the pyramids. Totally aliens. Probably." Other "experts"

Expert.

have agreed that the guitar-shreddery is definitely super-human, and the vocals far too disgusting to be created by human vocal organs. The thunderous cacophony of the drums call to mind the hideous rites performed by the Tcho-tcho peoples, as captured in field recordings by noted Occult Scientist, Obed Marsh (RIP). [Also, there is some killer bass playing. However, this is a metal record, so we're just gonna ignore it. - Ed.] According to legend, the Tcho-tchos descended from a race of dwarfs known as the Miri Nigri, who in turn were created from the flesh of prehistoric reptiles. The Tcho-tchos indulged in an unknown hallucinogenic compound during their worship of the Great Old One, Hastur. Ceremonies involved orgiastic frenzy and human and animal sacrifices. Expert Theorists have speculated that Apocryphon was one such cult of The Unspeakable One. To listen to this recording may cause one to become possessed by Hastur. In that event, one's bones become gelatinous, the skin turns to scales, and they will become the embodiment of entropy. I highly recommend it.

Mortals bow before your masters (DL)

Give them some money for stuff here.

"Wear something sexy and meet me at midnight."

[Originally, in this space, I had just listed every naughty word or phrase that I could come up with at two in the morning. It was a pretty long list. Then I realized that the spike in the amount of unwanted traffic/trolls my misanthropic little blahg would suddenly experience could be very annoying. So the dirty talk will just have to stay between me and the cat. This is a compilation of songs about horizontal action, or "doin' it." I like to talk about fucking and getting high, because if I am an expert at doing two things, it is fucking and getting high. Ok, maybe not an expert, per se. But, unlike Ian McKaye, "at least I fucking tried!" I already covered the subject of "Drugs" over at iLLcON, so here I am giving you, "Sex." Not literally, of course. That would not be enjoyable for either of us, seeing as how I finally got both my tentacle surgery, and my marsupial pouch (photos soon). As Burroughs said, "we see god through our assholes in the flashbulb of orgasm." Your girlfriend will hate this because it reminds her of how inadequate you are in the sack. Also, she will shave her head and grow her armpit hair. You're going to be eating hair pie, and that's if you're lucky. I still can't figure out how to get the tracks in the order I want, which pisses me off because I grew up in the age of actual "mixtapes." Lovingly crafted, handmade pieces of art, which were way more intimate and meaningful than this blogging business will ever get. You were gonna masturbate in twenty minutes anyway, why not let this compilation set the pace. I'm off to youjizz, myself, as soon as I finish these nachos. Love you. - RyGar]

download smut (DL)

On the "Countless Backs of Sad Losers"

I fucking love this cover art.

Do you know what is kind of scary? Seeing David Yow perform live. The man is like GG Allin, only with a wicked-sharp intellect. Charles Manson with out all the marketing. He doesn't have to drop his pants to shit all over your fancy (sub)Urban Outfitters "vintage" tee shirt, no party tricks here.  His sweat will probably leave a stain, though. He's one of the few real singers out there. Like Danzig, Yow is unafraid to explore his range and use his voice as an instrument. Witness this classic by The Jesus Lizard. Buy a lovely deluxe version here. Then go catch one his current bands. You will leave a better person.


Testify. (DL)

Only CRASS is punk enough...

But, sorry, dude - CRASS ain't even on this comp. However, it is a crASS records comp. CRAss. CrAsS SSSsssss. ... oops, I got distracted by something shiny. This comp is at least 60% great. I'll let you decide who gets the credit for the 40% suck. I never really waved the CRASS banner.They're swell, and all, but I'm just not gonna pledge whatever proto-anarchists pledge instead of allegiance. Anyway, they aren't even on this comp, so it's not really worth debating. What is worth mentioning is that you get tracks from A Flux of Pink Indians, Conflict, Rudimentary Peni, D.I.R.T., Zounds, and a few others. Dig in sweet lambs.

Anarchy, duuuuuude...(DL)

(In case you are wondering, I'm still not done doing this blogging biznasty. I just like to unplug and get outside when the weather is nice, and that is what I've been doing.)

"I don't want to live like this."

I am not a music journalist, and I have no aspirations to become one. It's quite strange then that I should feel pressured into creating thorough and entertaining write-ups about the bands and albums that I post here. Part of it stems from the amount of respect I have for the music and the people who create it. Everything I post here on NKINW is intrinsically linked to my perception of self. I have defined myself, for the most part,  by the music that I listen to and the politics, jokes, and values contained within these recordings. That isn't to say that I agree with everything a given band has to say. I can get past ignorant lyrical content if the music is good enough. I don't worry about whether my wardrobe is punk or metal. But, my point is, all of these records mean more to me than they probably should. I think in fragments of song lyrics. I drum my fingers on every available surface, keeping time with the playlist in my head. I rally behind bands that value integrity over mainstream appeal. And, sometimes, I can't think of a damn thing to say about a band that I feel does justice to their art. I get bored of trying to find new ways to say an album is heavy, or fast, or what-have-you. Of course, no one has asked me to do any of this. I'm only up against myself, and today, I am kicking my ass. I don't have anything clever or funny to say about Apeface. I don't know how to tell you that their take on crust is both unique and necessary. I can't tell you that it sounds like mid-90's Black Metal without feeling like I'm only trying to sell it to you by alluding to a passing revivalist fad. Look, Apeface is from San Jose, Ca., just like me. They were nice dudes whenever I met them. They sometimes played shows with the lights out, the stage illuminated by desecrated nativity scene lawn figures. Some of the other bands in the Bay Area made fun of them for writing songs that were too long. Or for not being punk enough, and too metal. Apeface rules, and that's all I can really tell you. Is that enough? Will you click the DL link? Am I only talking to myself? Do I care? Stay tuned for the answers to these questions and more, here on The 'Wave.

"No monkey story will do." (DL)

Now Hiring, Assholes

I really like doing this blog, but I don't get around to posting all that often. Sometimes I'm busy. Sometimes I'm lazy. I mean, just look at my post history on the right - totally slacking. It's hard keeping a fan base if the posts only get updated as often as your mom gets laid. So, because I don't want to see this thing die, I figured I'd bring in a couple more employees. What does a job at The 'Wave offer as compensation, you ask? Well, it doesn't pay $$$, and nobody popular is going to change their opinion of you, but I promise that you will get a grip of underground credibility and a t-shirt whenever I get around to printing them. Oh, I get good weed, and I'll totally get you high sometime, if you want. No experience necessary, just shoot me a message about why you would want to write for the blog and maybe a few of your favorite albums, or something. Nothing you write will be censored, or edited for content. Take a look around the older posts and ask yourself if your are ready to succeed where only Robert Downey Jr. has failed. Join us and transcend the banality of non-blogger existence.

Rejected applicant R. D. Jr. on the downward spiral.