She Began To Cry Tears Of Blood Which Became Little Brick Houses When They Hit The Ground

by Venetian Snares

supported by
Tylor von Lottz
Tylor von Lottz thumbnail
Tylor von Lottz PURE SONIC GOLD Mr. Funk PURE SONIC GOLD thank you thank you for putting your mind out there!!!!!!
T. C. v L.
Favorite track: He Was Shot By One Of Brian’s Children Holding The Cats Hostage In A Cardboard Box.
DJ Saint-Hubert
DJ Saint-Hubert thumbnail
DJ Saint-Hubert I alluded to synesthesia at one point or another, but really that's my feelings on Venetian Snares' music. It's only shocking because it's noisy and chaotic in the audio sense. How random is this compared to like the latest Call of Duty game in the scheme of things, if visual/audio noise were equals by society's standards? Or visual vs. audio stimulation? This kind of music is just holding the mirror up to society imo, or all it's really depicting is 'mayhem', the imagination does the rest Favorite track: He Was Shot By One Of Brian’s Children Holding The Cats Hostage In A Cardboard Box.
fatribz-fan
fatribz-fan thumbnail
fatribz-fan great gravy all the time Favorite track: Crazy Painted On Eyebrows Staring Out The Front Window Eating Hot Dog Buns.
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about

We are born, she says, and we begin to disintegrate. These disintegrations give birth to further crumbling forms which plummet and reconstruct themselves into new malformations which in turn fall into dust and simultaneously elevate new structures infinitely. This might be what it is to exist, to shit all over everything before us, to erase it and for a moment, make it ours. Civilization built over civilization over civilization over long tainted ground. Zeus and a demon chiseling away at each other forever.

Build up from what’s accumulated, a neighborhood inside the psychiatrist and they will paint the houses for you. The grief can live here, the mistakes. The theoretical lives unlived can haunt the master bedrooms and basements in disrepair and squalor. Take away the doors and windows, paint the walls in tar and piss! The ecosystem fails, the weeds grow tall and expire as the paint curls away into nothingness. We may build what we build, but it’s always in flux, decaying and reorganizing itself. The threads all give way and you’re left naked again, crouched in a corner crushing a dried-up banana peel and watching it flake down onto your toes. Is stability in any form truly attainable or is the point to repeatedly chase what we perceive as stability?

Today I was born, I leave my own abysmal stamp until my death, trying my best not to look back at the trail of stillborns in the snow.

credits

released January 11, 2018

All tracks written, recorded, produced & performed by Aaron Funk. Published by Mute Song Ltd. Artwork by Aaron Funk

license

all rights reserved

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