Remember back in the 50s when they'd record like Elvis singing YOU AIN'T NOTHIN BUT A HOUND DOG and then they'd turn the record over and reverse it and it was all NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP and people were all like, "That is actually the voice of Satan coming from that song."
That night, she dreamed of specters. Everything was ghosts and spirits, swirling around her in some kind of endless void. No matter where she turned or where she looked, all there was to see was darkness, and the gray shapes of those strange beings flitting across her vision. She felt a sense of urgency, like there was something she needed from them. Something important. Something essential.
“What are you?!” she called, her voice unceremoniously swallowed by the void (Was there even sound here at all?). It felt like there wasn’t a single noise anywhere.
No sound existed here; no sound had ever existed here. Yet she could feel a deep howling noise, coming from… somewhere. From the void, or within herself? She could not say.
Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity (or was it just a few seconds?), the spirits responded with a single word:
“Echoes.” There seemed to be no single source, it came from all directions.
“What do you mean? Echoes of what?!” no response.
She tried to move, and found herself falling, down, down, farther into the void. All at once, the whirling void snapped into clarity once again, with the tornado of spirits still swirling above her, like circling crows.
However, what caught her attention was the creature in front of her. It was made from sharp, ever shifting lines, like an artist’s stencil sketch come to life. The lines were pure white, like snow, forming the border of the strange being. The thing seemed to have no substance; it formed the silhouette of a man, but she could see right through it.
It was large, larger than her. It was hard to scale anything in this place of nothing, but the thing dominated most of her line of sight.
Something pure white in this distressing realm of darkness should have been comforting, but instead it terrified her. There was something… horribly wrong about this thing; there was just no other word for it. It was not necessarily evil, nor was it chaotic or disorderly. It was simply wrong.
The lines began to move in a new pattern, revealing a slowly opening mouth. A single word emanated from its maw, deeply powerful and horrifyingly but unidentifiably familiar.
That night, she dreamed of specters. Everything was ghosts and spirits, swirling around her in some kind of endless void. No matter where she turned or where she looked, all there was to see was darkness, and the gray shapes of those strange beings flitting across her vision. She felt a sense of urgency, like there was something she needed from them. Something important. Something essential.
“What are you?!” she called, her voice unceremoniously swallowed by the void (Was there even sound here at all?). It felt like there wasn’t a single noise anywhere.
No sound existed here; no sound had ever existed here. Yet she could feel a deep howling noise, coming from… somewhere. From the void, or within herself? She could not say.
Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity (or was it just a few seconds?), the spirits responded with a single word:
“steven” There seemed to be no single source, it came from all directions.
“What do you mean? My name is not steven i am a girl?!” no response.
She tried to move, and found herself falling, down, down, farther into the void. All at once, the whirling void snapped into clarity once again, with the tornado of spirits still swirling above her, like circling crows.
However, what caught her attention was the creature in front of her. It was made from sharp, ever shifting lines, like an artist’s stencil sketch come to life. The lines were pure white, like snow, forming the border of the strange being. The thing seemed to have no substance; it formed the silhouette of a man, but she could see right through it.
It was large, larger than her. It was hard to scale anything in this place of nothing, but the thing dominated most of her line of sight.
Something pure white in this distressing realm of darkness should have been comforting, but instead it terrified her. There was something… horribly wrong about this thing; there was just no other word for it. It was not necessarily evil, nor was it chaotic or disorderly. It was simply wrong.
The lines began to move in a new pattern, revealing a slowly opening mouth. Three words emanated from its maw, deeply powerful and horrifyingly but unidentifiably familiar.
my mom e-mailed me a few pics of me growing up for an assignment i'm doing, there's this one of me when i was like 7 or so, and another where i'm in middle school.
I was a pretty skinny kid, then I gained a lot of weight, then I lost some
At first, it seems like a strange pairing: Dillinger easily become the oldest artists on Sumerian (both in terms of age of the bandmembers and number of albums released) and their brand of metal doesn’t come close to sounding like any other band on the label (the way it did at one of the band’s former labels, Relapse). On the other hand, Dillinger were probably a direct influence on nearly all of those bands (even Asking Alexandria whether that band knows it or not!), and it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch at all to see them out on tour with, for example, The Faceless and Born of Osiris. Such a tour would probably alienate some of Dillinger’s older, dyed-in-the-wool fans, but so be it… band’s gotta move on. The truth is that Dillinger could probably use a fresh infusion of new, young metal fans via younger touring partners, and the alliance with Sumerian all but ensures they’ll be placed on Ash Avildsen-powered touring machines like Summer Slaughter. Those are some big strategic benefits for Dillinger. Sumerian in particular is uniquely positioned to market the band to a new generation of metalheads.
From Sumerian’s standpoint, Dillinger are one of the biggest bands in metal; what label wouldn’t want to sign Dillinger? The band presents Sumerian with a huge opportunity to a) make money, and b) re-establish itself with the label’s wavering fanbase that may feel disillusioned by Asking Alexandria, I See Stars and the like.
Then of course there’s the money stuff. That the band’s own label Party Smasher Inc. made its way into the Sumerian announcement would seem to indicate that this is a licensing deal, not a typical record label contract. This would mean that Dillinger have a bit more artistic freedom — they turn in the finished product on their own rather than being subject to label artistic input — they’d get to keep a bigger piece of the pie, and the deal term is probably shorter (their prior contract with Season of Mist was a licensing deal and only lasted one album), all financial terms that are favorable for Dillinger. Either way, I’m sure they were offered a helluva lot of money for this deal… I’d imagine every major metal label was interested.
hmm
well if this results in me seeing DEP live i'll be a happy camper
BUT IT"S ASKING ALEXANDREAS LABEL BAWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
i actually have no idea why people would think this. do they think that DEP are suddenly going to start making cookie-cutter scene kid metalcore because theyve signed to sumerian? of course theyre not. therefore why should you care? its clearly going to make 0 difference to their music and that is all you should care about. oh boo hoo they might tour with some Sumerian bands and teenagers who are obsessed with djent might start liking DEP. well you can always turn up at shows after the supports have finished if you are so offended and maybe those djent kiddies will start listening to music thats actually not shit.
Rap is, like goddamazon said, “A music, fashion, and POLITICAL subculture started by the Black community to subvert the oppression Black people face at the hands of white people.”
Just like with other Black art forms, like rock n roll and jazz, it has become increasingly associated with crime and immorality. Jazz music, for instance, has a tradition of being used in films to accompany scenes involving drug use. When white people take this art form, they receive none of the negative connotations that have been impressed upon Black artists. They’re seen as “edgy,” “innovative,” and “revolutionary.” Consider the difference in public image between, say, Asher Roth, who dropped out of college after a few years, and David Banner, who has a Bachelor’s in business and has taken classes toward a Master’s in education.
Like with so many other aspects of black culture, whites wanted it, but only without the Black people who created it. The issue is that lackluster rappers like fucking Asher Roth, or Kreayshawn, or Iggy Azalea get worshiped for their innovativeness and artistry, while Nicki Minaj, Azalea Banks, Waka Flocka, and a host of other black rappers get shat on repeatedly for being “getto” or “ratchet” or “materialistic” or “Shallow”. It’s why to this fucking day you have people who love Eminem, but then turn around and say all other rap is shit. That’s why I don’t drink that “rap is universal” kool aid. Because it isn’t. It’s fucking BLACK. And don’t forget that shit
Rap is, like goddamazon said, “A music, fashion, and POLITICAL subculture started by the Black community to subvert the oppression Black people face at the hands of white people.”
Just like with other Black art forms, like rock n roll and jazz, it has become increasingly associated with crime and immorality. Jazz music, for instance, has a tradition of being used in films to accompany scenes involving drug use. When white people take this art form, they receive none of the negative connotations that have been impressed upon Black artists. They’re seen as “edgy,” “innovative,” and “revolutionary.” Consider the difference in public image between, say, Asher Roth, who dropped out of college after a few years, and David Banner, who has a Bachelor’s in business and has taken classes toward a Master’s in education.
Like with so many other aspects of black culture, whites wanted it, but only without the Black people who created it. The issue is that lackluster rappers like fucking Asher Roth, or Kreayshawn, or Iggy Azalea get worshiped for their innovativeness and artistry, while Nicki Minaj, Azalea Banks, Waka Flocka, and a host of other black rappers get shat on repeatedly for being “getto” or “ratchet” or “materialistic” or “Shallow”. It’s why to this fucking day you have people who love Eminem, but then turn around and say all other rap is shit. That’s why I don’t drink that “rap is universal” kool aid. Because it isn’t. It’s fucking BLACK. And don’t forget that shit
Translation: I'm a racist in denial and think that rap music is all there is to contemporary black culture. Also I have never heard of Rick Rubin or the Beastie Boys and think that people actually like Asher Roth and don't like Waka Flocka Flame, because I am out of touch with a culture I have long abandoned. Furthermore, I do not actually like rap music, I like social upheaval and "being a revolutionary", I have no interest in music that doesn't sound like it could be a soundtrack to violent rebellion.
I cannot tell whether you agree with this or not, Yarrun, but this is quite a sore spot for me. So I apologize if I'm coming off as touchy.
can't people just enjoy something without any pretentious reasons whatsoever
That would be ridiculous, Forsythe.
Fun fact: the earliest purpose of rap was sheer party music. It grew out of the disco scene, so that's to be expected.
The only people who say bullshit like the above are those that think the only oldschool group was Public Enemy and have probably never bought another rap record in their entire life. (also that kind of thinking is a pretty poor representation of PE, they are into the whole "militantly black" thing, but they're also pretty supportive of some white rappers. Heck, Chuck D likes Insane Clown Posse).
These are people to whom names like Afrika Bambaataa (himself political, but a bit more of a hippie), Masta Ace, MC Shan, and Schoolly-D mean nothing.
Translation: I'm a racist in denial and think that rap music is all there is to contemporary black culture. Also I have never heard of Rick Rubin or the Beastie Boys and think that people actually like Asher Roth and don't like Waka Flocka Flame, because I am out of touch with a culture I have long abandoned. Furthermore, I do not actually like rap music, I like social upheaval and "being a revolutionary", I have no interest in music that doesn't sound like it could be a soundtrack to violent rebellion.
I cannot tell whether you agree with this or not, Yarrun, but this is quite a sore spot for me. So I apologize if I'm coming off as touchy.
It popped up on my dashboard. Needed the opinion of people who actually know about this stuff.
Frankly, my reaction can be summed up as 'can't tell if this is an actual problem in rap or if the writer's just using rap to complain about how society views black people'.
Sorry. Probably should have told you lot that I was specifically looking for feedback.
Comments
That night, she dreamed of specters. Everything was ghosts and spirits, swirling around her in some kind of endless void. No matter where she turned or where she looked, all there was to see was darkness, and the gray shapes of those strange beings flitting across her vision. She felt a sense of urgency, like there was something she needed from them. Something important. Something essential.
“What are you?!” she called, her voice unceremoniously swallowed by the void (Was there even sound here at all?). It felt like there wasn’t a single noise anywhere.
No sound existed here; no sound had ever existed here. Yet she could feel a deep howling noise, coming from… somewhere. From the void, or within herself? She could not say.
Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity (or was it just a few seconds?), the spirits responded with a single word:
“Echoes.” There seemed to be no single source, it came from all directions.
“What do you mean? Echoes of what?!” no response.
She tried to move, and found herself falling, down, down, farther into the void. All at once, the whirling void snapped into clarity once again, with the tornado of spirits still swirling above her, like circling crows.
However, what caught her attention was the creature in front of her. It was made from sharp, ever shifting lines, like an artist’s stencil sketch come to life. The lines were pure white, like snow, forming the border of the strange being. The thing seemed to have no substance; it formed the silhouette of a man, but she could see right through it.
It was large, larger than her. It was hard to scale anything in this place of nothing, but the thing dominated most of her line of sight.
Something pure white in this distressing realm of darkness should have been comforting, but instead it terrified her. There was something… horribly wrong about this thing; there was just no other word for it. It was not necessarily evil, nor was it chaotic or disorderly. It was simply wrong.
The lines began to move in a new pattern, revealing a slowly opening mouth. A single word emanated from its maw, deeply powerful and horrifyingly but unidentifiably familiar.
“Echoes”
That night, she dreamed of specters. Everything was ghosts and spirits, swirling around her in some kind of endless void. No matter where she turned or where she looked, all there was to see was darkness, and the gray shapes of those strange beings flitting across her vision. She felt a sense of urgency, like there was something she needed from them. Something important. Something essential.
“What are you?!” she called, her voice unceremoniously swallowed by the void (Was there even sound here at all?). It felt like there wasn’t a single noise anywhere.
No sound existed here; no sound had ever existed here. Yet she could feel a deep howling noise, coming from… somewhere. From the void, or within herself? She could not say.
Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity (or was it just a few seconds?), the spirits responded with a single word:
“steven” There seemed to be no single source, it came from all directions.
“What do you mean? My name is not steven i am a girl?!” no response.
She tried to move, and found herself falling, down, down, farther into the void. All at once, the whirling void snapped into clarity once again, with the tornado of spirits still swirling above her, like circling crows.
However, what caught her attention was the creature in front of her. It was made from sharp, ever shifting lines, like an artist’s stencil sketch come to life. The lines were pure white, like snow, forming the border of the strange being. The thing seemed to have no substance; it formed the silhouette of a man, but she could see right through it.
It was large, larger than her. It was hard to scale anything in this place of nothing, but the thing dominated most of her line of sight.
Something pure white in this distressing realm of darkness should have been comforting, but instead it terrified her. There was something… horribly wrong about this thing; there was just no other word for it. It was not necessarily evil, nor was it chaotic or disorderly. It was simply wrong.
The lines began to move in a new pattern, revealing a slowly opening mouth. Three words emanated from its maw, deeply powerful and horrifyingly but unidentifiably familiar.
“dont fart steven”
what
hehe its the guy you were named after. i remember that
also you can really tell its you. some people look different to how they were as kids but you do not at all
it makes a sense. i dont see any reason to be upset by it, they can sign to whatever label they want, theyre still DEP.
i actually have no idea why people would think this. do they think that DEP are suddenly going to start making cookie-cutter scene kid metalcore because theyve signed to sumerian? of course theyre not. therefore why should you care? its clearly going to make 0 difference to their music and that is all you should care about. oh boo hoo they might tour with some Sumerian bands and teenagers who are obsessed with djent might start liking DEP. well you can always turn up at shows after the supports have finished if you are so offended and maybe those djent kiddies will start listening to music thats actually not shit.
thought: Ben Weinman is basically a more groomed Matt Embree
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
What if the singer was Miley Cyrus
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Then again, the inclusion of Sumerian would probably exclude any possibility of mainstream popularity.
This chick, right here.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Translation: I'm a racist in denial and think that rap music is all there is to contemporary black culture. Also I have never heard of Rick Rubin or the Beastie Boys and think that people actually like Asher Roth and don't like Waka Flocka Flame, because I am out of touch with a culture I have long abandoned. Furthermore, I do not actually like rap music, I like social upheaval and "being a revolutionary", I have no interest in music that doesn't sound like it could be a soundtrack to violent rebellion.
I cannot tell whether you agree with this or not, Yarrun, but this is quite a sore spot for me. So I apologize if I'm coming off as touchy.
That would be ridiculous, Forsythe.
Fun fact: the earliest purpose of rap was sheer party music. It grew out of the disco scene, so that's to be expected.
The only people who say bullshit like the above are those that think the only oldschool group was Public Enemy and have probably never bought another rap record in their entire life. (also that kind of thinking is a pretty poor representation of PE, they are into the whole "militantly black" thing, but they're also pretty supportive of some white rappers. Heck, Chuck D likes Insane Clown Posse).
These are people to whom names like Afrika Bambaataa (himself political, but a bit more of a hippie), Masta Ace, MC Shan, and Schoolly-D mean nothing.
I would much rather revel in my nonpretentiousness than actually be pretentious just to win a not-hipster contest.Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Frankly, my reaction can be summed up as 'can't tell if this is an actual problem in rap or if the writer's just using rap to complain about how society views black people'.
Sorry. Probably should have told you lot that I was specifically looking for feedback.