SLAMGAUGE

Here is a really old cover track that I did when I was first learning how to use my compressors and mic pre-amps. Sounds awful, but I still kinda like it.

We were all taught at a very young age
that we are all very special in our very own way
But we are not

We are just a swarm of insects tearing apart the same rotting carcass
We are all completely oblivious to the forces working to undermine us
We don't notice Tsunamis rising up and crashing down
to wash everything away with a deafening sound

It's all right by me
let's watch it all come down
Toads fall from the sky
and blood soaks the ground
That's just fine by me
let's watch it go down
Don't be so narsasistic
you won't stick around

Not for long.

Posted by at 1:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

I want to watch it all come down.
I love to watch them scramble like a bed of ants soaked in lighter fluid.
The problem is beyond containment.
Like viral meningitis, by the time your neck starts to hurt
your already dead.
We have all been purchasing the bile they pump out...
We have all listened to mediocrity become exalted...
It just takes one mutation to start an epidemic.
Die BMG...Die Sony...Die Universal...Die EMI...Die Warner Brothers.

DIE DIE DIE

Posted by at 1:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

For this track I used some samples that I found from Trent Reznor's Doom 3 Project. From what I hear he was involved in the Quake soundtrack and started the Doom 3 soundtrack but never finished it because his plans for the music and mood were to grand and his schedule was to full. Eventually one of the guys that used to play drums for NIN, Chris Vrenna, picked up and finished the project. So he just threw his sounds out for all the internets to consume and I loaded them into Halion and made some kind of twisted industrial drum kit out of them.

A noise pollution symphony tunes up from the pit of Loop-1.
The smashed out window of my truck gives clear view of the
homeless conductor bringing the players to attention.
Balancing on his one leg, he raises his crutch into the air.
On his signal the light turns green and the show begins.

Swells from the bass dump trucks.
Stabs from the alto rice rockets.
A Fortissimo jackhammer picks up the pace,
soon enough I arrive back at my place.
The symphony fades as I lock myself in, separate myself from the world
on my isolationist binge.
I sit on the couch and slip off my shoes, pull out the laces
and tie a small noose.

Turn on some jazz...avant garde.
Pour myself a screwdriver...extra hard.

Posted by at 12:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)