Hello reader. I want to play a game. Recently you've confessed to your select friends and loved ones your hidden obsession with reading the $$CHIANG_MAI_ELVIS$$ blog, and consequentially developing a love of obscure, vaguely nationalist police procedurals and all things second base. As you can see, this apparatus that binds you holds a selection of tools that are key to your escape. When you finish reading this paragraph the tank you are in will slowly fill with a chemical cocktail of ammonia derived from the cat rescue shelter and the liquid remnents from the Papa John's greasetrap. The door to the cage will automatically unlock upon completion of one of two given tasks. The choice is yours: either share the link to the $$CHIANG_MAI_ELVIS$$ homepage on all of your social media accounts and declare an allegiance to deliver single mothers in their thirties to the doorstep of Elvis Anaporn, or watch a full episode of the EFAP podcast. The cameras attached to this computer will be tracking your eye movements, and keeping your eyes closed for a period longer than three seconds will activate the circular saws to remove your precious eyelids. Let the games begin.
Nah I'm just kiddin guys, this is Elvis bringing you another episode from Anapornian nightmare-land otherwise known as my inner Deep Thoughtz. And lemme tell you man what's scarier than actually sitting down and watching EFAP? A goddamn furry avatar and a bunch of other fucking retarded Internet historians talking about other idiotic phenomonea in the "mainstream"? Good fuckin grief dog. And on that note, what better way to introduce the autumnal seasons than through a little horror-filmed roleplaying and one of the most absolutely mindbending albums that I've ever had the pleasure of hearing, ladies and gentlemen please brace your assholes for sum DJ muthafuckin SCREW
if she wasn't doodlin this in her notebook during intro to botany she ain't worth it
Music like this is nice because it does what good music should do, that is leave you fucking speechless. It's the kind of music that makes you think "man how the fuck did someone make a bunch of sounds come together to sound like this???". It's the kind of music that makes you think "man how the fuck did people actually end up liking this enough to admit it given how just straight up fucking WEIRD this shit is???". It's the kind of music that you don't even really think to, you just straight up listen to it and think deeply about shit. When you do that, you notice that this is one weird fuckin album straight up. The songs bleed into one another, carried along not so much by the individual rappers present on the tracks but by the musical motifs Screw sprinkles throughout (a lonely saxophone lick, descending trumpets that crash down like the sounding of the seventh trumpet, phrases taken from different rap songs garbled and recontextualized, etc.) When I first listened to this baby about three years ago in my chronic era, I often played the entire mixtape front-to-back without being able to distinguish a single track. Upon sobering up, I'd take the mix with me to the gym and try to identify individual tracks and melodies. Occasionally I'd make progress (My Mind Went Black, Short Texas, and After I Die being the standout singles according to YouTube viewership and last.fm scrobbling) but my attention would turn to the more accessible 3 'N The Mornin' mixtape by Screw, a more light hearted and party-oriented collection of trunk knockers, light up another spliff and idk play some Dragon Age or whatever the fuck I was doing way back when.
That was then, however, and this is now. Now I see the truth. The truth is life isn't a big ol bloc party full of prerolled blunts, hungry bitches, and cups full of hennessy. Life has a lot more bad moments than good ones, and we do what we can to make the good times as big and loud as possible but no one escapes the bad times. Just cuz they're bad times don't mean they gotta stay bad, still. People like DJ Screw are unique, unique like Howlin' Wolf or Emily Bronte or David Lynch. They make art about things that are not happy, and yet we enjoy consuming them. The solution to most people is escapism, but music for most people is bullshit like... idk the fucking ANIME SOUNDTRACKS. Good God man. Have some shame. On me. The Occam's Razor to Goth Subculture, Elvis Anaporn Ph.D.
Simply put, this shit is the House of Leaves of music. You can listen to it one way but it demands you listen to it in all sorts of ways. Listen to it left-to-right then right-to-left, listen to it in isolation and in parties, listen to it driving and then listen to it running, listen to it in your highest point of intoxication and then your lowest moment of sobriety, listen to it in the background noise of your job and listen to it in intense isolation. Sweet sweet music, so much to savor and so much to say. So little that needs being said when listening to it.
On that note ladies and gentlemen, expect these blogposts to come to an end in the near future. Yessiree, it has happened; I don goofed BIG TIME this time folks and got myself drafted into the STARSHIP TROOPERS. I'll be fighting for my right to vote for whether the next party is BYOB or not by annihilating giant space insects with machine guns n shovels then taking serious moto pics for recruitment purposes sometime soon. Don't worry about me fellas; first of all I know where my soul is goin when I die (here's a hint, it's straight fuckin up) and second of all all I need to keep me warm at night are the memories I've made listening to these tunes I've posted here for all you eager readers to join me in collective enjoyment of. The day I'm set to leave, however, is not today. So let's enjoy today. Been a pleasure writing to you, and ...till we meeeet agaaaaaainnn
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