2012 is a coming y’all. Not long now before the global grip of the Fourth Reich is slid around our fragile necks and Xenu enslaves us all. The moment when you will have to apologise to the stoner conspiracy theorist that you scoffed at all these years, only to watch his bong-stained body spliced in two by the photon cannon of an Illuminati warcraft, is almost upon us. In only a few months the serating pain of a reptilian workmaster’s whip eternally lashing our sorry backs, will be as normal a part of our daily lives as making a cup of tea or reading the newspaper. You know by now how this shit is going to go down, one government, one ruler, one currency, one nationality, one love, one blood, one life. You got to do what you should.
When the anti-christ finally scratches off his elaborately constructed Prince Charles prosthetics to reveal his appalling face, when his fiendish plot ingeniously concealed behind the good natured actions of corporations, banks and world leaders finally triple-crosses our trusting souls, we shall be ready. In order to be spared when the day of reckoning comes, we have come up with an offering for the Negachristus. We call it the One World Genre.
Debate still takes place about what the One World Genre will actually sound like, but the popular 1-4-5 chord progression with lyrics about girls type, should probably suffice. Upon the 12th hour of the 12th day of the 12th year of the new millennium (121212 * 2 = 666 yo) there will be a mass demolition of all material not conforming, as part of the ‘Everything else apart from the One World Genre sucks’ campaign. Records will be deleted and mp3s will be burnt. Those using a fourth chord will be tortured remorselessly until they forget it.
Unless you want to be garroted by the cypherblade of a level 6 masonic warrior in the flaming hour of judgement, we really suggest picking up that Oasis guitar tab book and getting busy.
There are some out there however, who just won’t play ball. We recently picked up reports of a sect of radicalist monks known as Captain Ahab. Schooled in the art of all musics, these cunning rebels seem hellbent on cramming as many different genres as they possibly can into the same song.
Man, our new ruler going to be pissed when he hears this. Here is an extract from our spy’s report on the recording of this track.
After several hours drive I finally manage to locate their monastery. Hiding in the back of their ceremonial chamber I bare witness to a scene something akin to Eyes Wide Shut directed by Slava Tsukerman. A gibbering, delusional rapper, presumed to drugged and kept in captivity for the specific puprose of the ritual begins to recite a half remembered lyric as the monks procession joins the altar. After a couple of minutes of chanting, the tension in the room is unbearable, I feel I must escape but seem to be overtaken by a hypnosis which roots me to the spot. All of a sudden they shed their robes to reveal their naked form, modesty is only protected by a scant covering of EBM bodyware. As the bell outside the monastery tolls, the whole room erupts into the kind of rave I have only seen in the hidden basements of Amsterdam. Released from my trance I feel this is probably the right moment to make my escape…
On the quiet, we wholeheartedly condone this kind of forward thinking activity. But when the forward you are thinking into is a totalitarian regime of Steve Dahl worshiping spider people, we seriously recommend keeping those thoughts strictly inside the box. “Acting Hard” is taken from their new album ‘The End of Irony,’ (which considering the tone of this post possibly isn’t upon us just yet) available next month from deathbomb arc. Pre-order it now before all copies are crushed under the scaly foot of the inverted messiah.
You may chuckle at our belief in the prophecies of the Internet, but throughout history the all-powerful bringer of evil’s conspiracy has been busy in the engineering of this new form. Do you not think it is strange that Bob Marley can die whilst playing football, yet Coldplay manage to fly all over the world without receiving so much as a scratch? Dark forces at work my friend, dark forces.
France 1980. In the United States of Europe in a time before humanity had uncovered the plot that will spell its termination, a member of another genre abusing clan known as Mathematiques Modernes released a seven inch single.
Betty Boop shall be offered as the marching anthem for the quadruped army, that shall watch over us whilst we are forced to build drive-thru McDonald’s out of stones the size of News Corporation’s headquarters. Betty Boop also represents the kind of cheeky progessive post-punk irreverence this sub-section of the 20jfg alliance loves very much. Coming like a demented version of Suicide presenting an episode of Eurotrash, abrasive oscillations can be fun.
Continue to enjoy and be influenced by stuff like this if you like, but when the Obamasatan’s men come knocking at your door you better have that Keane CD in the stereo, otherwise you might end up hanging in the walk-in fridge of a pyramidal Burger King. Just saying, is all.