The Sacrifice; A Donald Trump and Jill Stein Love Story

“Well, President Trump, you dodge phone calls as well as you dodged the draft.”

“Jill? What the fuck are you doing here?! If Melania finds out-”

“She’s out of town and you know it.”

Jill stares at Donald with an intensity that disturbs him. She has given signs of this before. He may be an egomaniac, but she is a true sociopath. It’s one week until his inauguration. He’s packing the personal effects from his office that he doesn’t trust the movers with. Family mementos, photographs, and things that might not necessarily be legal.

He looks at her frustrated, but with the slightest touch of admiration. “How the hell did you get in here, anyway?”

“That lovely little Latin number who answers your door doesn’t seem very interested in her job. I’m guessing you don’t pay her enough. Is she in this country legally?”

“Cut the shit, Jill.”

She smirks. “I want you back, sweetie.”

“Look, we can’t keep this up. I’m not fucking up a third marriage. I doubt Richard would be any happier about this than Melania.”

“Oh give me a break. She loves for your money, and Richard’s a militant atheist. You should see the silly little club meetings he goes to. It’s just a circle jerk about how human nature will prevail over religion. Put black robes on them and it’s the Church of Satan. He’s not particularly concerned about who I fuck.”

He puts his hands up, “I really, really can’t do this anymore.”

She grabs him by his tie and pulls him toward her, “Listen to me you silly little shit, you said if I managed to fuck up swing states for Clinton, you were going to break me off a piece of the power. I am not fucking around Donald! You try to screw me on this, I will make your life a living hell.”

He speaks carefully, “Jill… there’s a secret service detail here… you need to be careful…”

“Not anymore there isn’t.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

She trips him and pushes him to the ground, pulling on his tie. She steps on his back and keeps pulling. He’s desperately gasping for air. “Do you need to breathe, sweetheart? Want mama to let you up for air?” She lets go, he gasps desperately.

He feels a pinch in his right buttock, “What… what is that?”

“Something to help you sleep.”

Donald awakens naked in a dimly lit room. He is on a metal table with his hands and feet in leather restraints, spread out so that his sides and genital region are exposed. It takes him a minute to get his wits about him. What was he doing? He was packing. Did he get drunk and pass out? He struggles with this, he had a dream about Jill… why?

Jill walks in wearing scrubs and vinyl gloves. She’s pushing a small metal cart. On it is a scalpel, 3 sets of forceps of varying sizes, sutures, a needle, and 10 small metal rods, about 7” long, 8mm wide, and sharpened to a point on one side. She turns the halogen light on above the table. She looks at him as casually as if she’s greeting a patient, “Glad to see you’re awake.”

“What? Jill! Goddammit, Jill, where the fuck am I?”

“You’re in a recording studio.”


“Don’t worry. We’re not making an album of your tortured cries. You’d be amazed how many hack musicians backed my campaign. One has his own studio. It’s great. The room is soundproof. You can cry and scream all you want.”

Donald begins frantically pulling at his restraints, shouting out unintelligibly.

“That’s good. Go ahead and wear yourself out. This will go a lot easier if you just relax.”

“You fucking cunt!” He’s already panting with exhaustion.

“Oh, that’s a new one. You haven’t called a woman that word on television yet. Maybe if you play nice, you’ll live long enough to have the opportunity.” She takes one of the small, spiked metal rods into her hand, climbs onto the table and straddles Donald. She gently kisses his chest a few times, then leans forward and grabs him by his hair. “Do you know what my specialty as a physician is, President Trump?”

He stares into her cold eyes, eyes that are aflutter with joy, with arousal, with immense enthusiasm for what is about to take place. “N-No, I don’t… Why?”

“Internal medicine.” She begins gently dragging the sharp point of the rod against the left side of his face. “You see, you kind of have to know a bit about everything. My favorite cases were always diseases that spread from one organ to another. Human anatomy is just…. Well, it’s my favorite thing.”

“Look, Jill, be reasonable here. We can talk. Just… just let me know what you need from me. You name it. It’s yours.”

She steps back onto the floor. She ignores Donald’s bargaining. “See, I understand your anatomy very well. I know exactly where to put these without hitting anything vital. I want you to be alive a little longer, baby.” She starts to insert the rod between two ribs, he begins thrashing around, so she backhands him across his face. “I’m going to hit an artery if you don’t fucking hold still! Get your shit together, little man!” She hits him again and presses down. Blood starts running down his chest. Tears and snot begin streaming from his face. “Okay, that one shouldn’t go any deeper. Let’s see where else you’re sensitive…”

He’s struggling to breathe. She didn’t puncture his lung, but the shock and the adrenaline are taking over. “Jill…… please…. stop this…..”

“Let’s put a couple in your gut. You’ll bleed a little bit, but I can fix you. Although you are a bit fatter than that pig I sewed up on Thanksgiving.” He screams likes the day he was born, including the whimpers in between the pain. She feels more moist with every cry of agony. She begins placing rods into his shoulders, just below his collar bone, being careful to work around the arteries. She pauses briefly and licks the blood dripping from his left shoulder. “Does that feel good?”

He cannot speak. His eyes are revolving all around the room. He thinks to himself, Am I going to die here? Even if she’s not trying to kill me, can I handle this at my age?

She stops to stretch. “You know, I thought the blood of a supposed great ruler would taste different. Nope, it just tastes like blood.” She settles back down. “Isn’t this place great? My friend turned off all his WiFi equipment before I got here. That shit gives me such a headache.”

Her tone has changed. What now? He struggles to get words out of his mouth; they are raspy and uneven, “What… does WiFi… have to do with anything?”

She again ignores him. “So, you have this lipoma in your leg. I noticed it the last few times we had sex. It’s just a clump of fat cells, basically, nothing cancerous. It’s fucking gross though, let’s remove it.” She cuts his leg open with the scalpel, spreads the wound open with the forceps, and begins attempting to remove the lipoma from the surrounding tissue. Donald is sniveling slightly, shaking a bit, but he’s too in shock to really be aware of what is happening anymore. She drops the lipoma on the tray and begins to suture the wound shut. She steps away for a moment, closes her eyes, and breathes deep. She’s almost managed to shock herself.

“N-Now what? …..Jill?”

She exhales. “You know, I never liked that you weren’t circumcised.”

“No! No Jill! Please!”

“Oh quit your whining. Trust me, you’re going to want to hold still for this. I didn’t bring a ring block, so I have to do this the hard way.”

She slips her finger under his foreskin as a guide, and begins carefully cutting along with the scalpel. He starts letting out a high pitched squeal that could break glass. His lungs fill with air and expel into this horrific sound with each cut she makes. When she is done, she sets the severed flap of skin down on his lips.

“See? That wasn’t so bad. If it weren’t bleeding, I’d almost consider putting it in my mouth. I mean, you really don’t know what you’ve been missing, dear. Then again, you’re kind of insufferable when you get everything you want.” She snickers, “Oh that’s right, I already got your blood in my mouth tonight, didn’t I? Yeah, sorry, truth is you just don’t deserve it.” She exhales and wipes the sweat from her brow, “I have to tinkle. Be back in a minute, love.”

She exits the room and walks down the hall to the bathroom. After relieving herself, she realizes she can’t take much more of the excitement, so she begins masturbating. The violence already had her half way there, so it only takes her a few minutes. She exits the stall and stares into her reflection with a deep admiration. “I love you, you know.” She leans forward, staring into her own eyes, “I love you so fucking much.” She kisses the mirror. “Please, don’t ever leave me.”

She opens the door to the studio room. “I’m back, sweetie.” She pauses as she notices the table is empty. Suddenly, she is pinned against the wall with Donald’s hands around her neck.

“Tiny hands! That’s what they keep saying about me! I have tiny hands! Yes! Tiny hands that can slip out of your fucking leather cuffs, you fucking bitch! But they’re big enough, aren’t they!? They’re big enough to wrap around your fucking throat!”

Jill very carefully reaches down and shoves her finger through the wound in Donald’s thigh, pushing through the sutures. Donald lets go and backs up. She gags for a moment, he struggles to maintain his balance. Seeing that he has inadequate footing, she charges him and tackles him to the floor. She feels 5 small jabs against her as she does.

Jill looks down, Donald is coughing up blood. Shit. When she pushed him down, the weight of her body pushed all of those skewers the rest of the way in. Seems the one in his ribs turned an angle and punctured his lung. She straddles him, slowly grinding against his penis. “You poor, poor little man. This could have gone differently. This could have been a warning.” She leans over, caresses his face, and kisses him. With his blood on her lips, she continues speaking. “This is your sacrifice, Donald. The sacrifice they all said you never had nor would ever make. You are the first pin to fall in my wake. I already have a dossier on Michael. Oh, the ways I can manipulate him. If he doesn’t play nice, he’ll wind up the same way as you.”

Donald’s vision is becoming blurry. This demented, bloody faced woman will be the last thing he ever sees.

“Good night, my love. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” She gets up and leaves. Everything fades to black for Donald Trump.

Homoerotic Fanfic About Julian Assange/Edward Snowden

“You know, I’m here with you now, and yet… I miss you. How can I miss you when you’re right here?” Edward’s words fall on Julian’s ears like the noise of traffic coming through the window. He’s looking out at the overcast cityscape. He feels nothing. He begins to button his shirt, which is all that he is wearing.

Edward lies naked, clutching the sheet, pulling it over himself as he has never felt more exposed. “Do you love me?”
“No.” He doesn’t turn as he says this. He remains stoic, looking out of his prison. How long has it been? Time seems irrelevant. It only passes when he acts on his instincts as a great destroyer.

Edward sits up, curls up, his hands trembling as he pulls the sheet further up. “How long?”

“That can’t be true…”

Edward thinks of their relationship. The arrangement was so difficult, but it seemed worth it. They understood each other. They stood for the same things. These carefully planned trips from Moscow to London were so dangerous for him, but he was in love. Julian had tried to arrange for him to stay at the embassy with him initially, but Edward had gotten in too deep with the Russians. Surely, Julian could not have put him through this for nothing.

“You stood up for me in the beginning.” He’s desperate now. Can he remind Julian that he truly did care about him?

“Of course I did.” Julian still maintains his gaze anywhere but Edward’s eyes. “You were a force of destruction. You upset everything around you. You were an ally. Provided, your idealism was something I could not empathize with, but the balance of your nation was upset by your mere presence. You were a person I needed to accompany me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t.” It is time to deliver these final blows. Julian knows this.

“You didn’t start sleeping with me because of what I did in America.”

“No, I simply brought you into my circle for what you did in America. I started sleeping with you after you made Russian allies.”

“What? What do the Russians have to do with anything?” Edward begins trembling all over. What is Julian’s game?
Julian finally turns his head toward Edward, “You are so fucking naive, it sickens me.”

Terror begins to envelop Edward. Is he going to become violent? He can’t… not like last time…

“You prissy little shit. You don’t fucking understand anything. You try to tell the whole world your government is corrupt and against its own people, and you put your faith in fucking Russia?!

Edward begins stammering, “I- I- I had nowhere- I mean, I needed a place to go and-”
“Shut the fuck up.” Julian stares at Edward menacingly. “You really thought Russia just wanted to be your friend? You didn’t think they wanted the contents of your fucking hard drive?! You bragged to journalists that your encryption couldn’t be cracked. You’re not a hacker. You’re a fucking system administrator.”
“I thought my data was safe!” Edward begins sobbing. Why is Julian doing this? He was so affectionate earlier this evening.

“When the UK had to pull spies out of hostile territory because of your mistake, I fucking laughed.” Julian wipes the sweat from his brow, points his gaze back out the window. “You trusted the Russians without questioning their motives. You trusted me without questioning my motives. All you learned about distrust in America somehow evaporated the second you left. How did you open your eyes and turn into such a child so quickly? How was that all undone?”

“When you make love to me, I know it’s real!” Edward shouts, snot dripping from his nose, he hasn’t been this anguished since childhood.

Julian points his gaze back to Edward. “Every time I penetrate you, I take a part of you. I have watched you lose more and more control as the months have gone on. This is the only way I feel anything. I don’t feel love. I don’t love anyone or anything. The only joy I know is suffering. I have dedicated my life’s work to making people suffer. The dumb fuck public think I do it for common knowledge or some sort of fucking altruistic need to save them from tyranny.” He laughs, briefly. He looks back out the window to not see Edward’s breakdown become worse. He hears it. Hearing is better than seeing. “You know, Edward, I have done this to you entirely on purpose. I want to drain the life from you. I want to drain the joy from you. I want to take all that makes you a vibrant, hopeful person, and tear it down. Hope is the great destroyer of all men. You must surrender to the frozen embrace of our world. I dragged this relationship out because I want you to be an empty husk. I want none of this naivety left in you. I want you to succumb to the same joyless existence as myself. Then, I will feel you. Then, I will understand you. Ultimately, then, I will leave you.”

Edward is in shock, briefly. What can he do? What should he do? Julian begins to put his pants back on. Julian remains silent, Edward remains still. This moment drags out for an eternity. The cold air coming through the window feels colder every second.

Julian stands, fully clothed. “You should get dressed and leave.”
“Why don’t you leave?”
“Because I’m in sanctuary in this embassy, you fucking idiot.”

Edward steps off the side of the bed. He stares at his clothes on the floor. Is this really ending? He can’t hold it in. He runs across the room, throws his arms around Julian’s neck. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’m sorry, but this is really happening.”
“I know you love me.”
“I don’t.”

Edward’s entire body is trembling, but he holds on. He presses his lips against Julian’s cheek. He does not move. He does not acknowledge. This act of affection is neither accepted nor an offense. It is an idle moment that he is enduring as he waits for this situation to complete. “Why won’t you let me in? I could try to understand you. I could try to know why you’re this way. That’s what you do when you love someone. You show them patience. You show them kindness. This has always been more than sex for me. I want to really know you. I want us to support each other when we finally get out of this. We’ve done great things-”

“No, we haven’t, and no, we’re not going forward together.”

“I thought-”

“We’re garbage taking out other garbage. None of this matters. Did you feel important? Did you feel excited when you blew that imaginary whistle? You did it for yourself. Not the Americans. You did it for yourself. You’re garbage. I’m garbage. It’s time for you to go. I have no affection to offer you.”

Edward releases Julian from his embrace. He walks away, head down. He begins dressing himself. He struggles because of the way his hands are trembling. He makes his way to the door. He opens it. He looks back. “Julian…I love you.”


The Goddamn Rodham

Since the news media is losing their shit over Hillary’s performance last night and playing Sanders “tired of hearing about your damn emails” quote on infinite repeat, I’m going to assume she’s safe to make fun of again.


Cats OMG!

Barfed this onto Facebook as I’ve been getting sick of responding to memes with actual legislative documents and mainstream news sources.



Don’t get me wrong, I actually am a Clinton supporter. I’ve been having kidney problems though, thus have a prescription for Norco, got bored and this happened.


A Kidney Warming Valentine’s Day Tale

I’m going to tell you the story of Valentine’s Day, set in either 2009 or 2010, I really don’t remember.  It was my first Valentine’s Day after being dumped. It was kind of amazing.

I might have been interested in someone at the time, but I wasn’t really pursuing it and chose to engineer an album for Sacramento-based harsh noise outfit Liver Cancer instead. I was recording it in Geordan’s garage, and part way into the session I started feeling this pinching in my side. I try to shut it out. About half way through the recording session, I suddenly find myself rolling on the bathroom floor in agonizing pain. I was also uninsured at the time. Geordan comes in, “Are you alright, bro?”
“Where does it hurt?”
“I think that’s your appendix. Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“Nah….. nah. It’s probably diarrhoea or something.”
“What’s your pain level?”
“Fuck, it just hit 9, might be dying, let’s go to the god damn hospital.

So I get a ride from the band out to Sutter Hospital in Roseville. They have me pee in a cup and give me a comfy hospital bed. Two incredibly beautiful nurses come over, start using me as a human pincushion and pressing down firmly on places that are supposed to hurt. Basically, it was the most action I’d had in months. They mention blood in my urine. Great. Every uninsured American wants to hear that they’re peeing blood. At least red pee on Valentine’s Day is festive, right?

They do some kind of a scan on my abdomen and just leave me unattended in that room for hours. I have to say, you have not lived until you’ve spent Valentine’s Day in the emergency room. The grand rotation of insanity that ensued made me not feel lonely in the slightest.

First, we have an elderly man who is a tad bit wasted. He doesn’t like his hospital bed. He might have a bit of dementia. He decides he’s tired of hanging out in here and just leaves in the hospital gown with his bare ass hanging out. Shortly thereafter, nurses are scrambling around trying to find the man. He’s humbly returned with police escort and handcuffed to the bed. I sense a BDSM theme forming.

Next, we have the girl. I see her wandering around the hall in a daze, hateful look in her eye, ghost white, and I start thinking, “Huh, what are you in for?”

One bad fucking night. That’s what she was in for.

She goes into the womens’ room and locks the door. Suddenly, there are 2 police officers outside the bathroom door banging on it. They demand she unlock the door or they’re going to unlock it and drag her out. Well, they unlock it and drag her out kicking and screaming. They bring her fiancé in to try to calm her down, but he really, really isn’t helping.

It starts getting ugly when she throws a bedpan on the floor and hurls her cell phone at a nurse. She’s screaming up a storm. The cops hold her down and cuff her to the bed. When do I get to be restrained?

This sad woman was a paranoid schizophrenic with a bladder infection following a medication abortion, and the police are there because she’s on suicide watch. Her fiancé starts coming around periodically and being horribly frigid and cold. Regardless of your stance on that subject, it’s a horrible experience for a woman to go through, and this guy finds that to be a mild annoyance. A schizophrenic dating a sociopath sounds like the beginning of a really bad movie. At one point he walks in, tells her that he never really loved her, and just fucking leaves.

FIREWORKS ARE LIT NOW! She starts convulsing in a maelstrom of loathing and sadness. Here come the authority figures and medical technicians. “Give her Geodon.”
“No! No! You don’t know my medication! You talk to my fucking shrink! I take Seroquel! Don’t give me that shit!”
“Did you bring the shot?”
“No! I don’t want it!”

I probably should have warned you this story goes from being darkly comic to kind of terrifying. She starts to fade out, and for some reason they wheel her out into the aisle like she’s on public display for the rest of the ward. She’s half coherent and the guy handcuffed in the bed next to mine is starting to sober up and chimes in. “They’re trying to help us you know.”

They continued on like that until she finally passed out. A friend of mine at the time who was also my emergency contact pops in. There was an ongoing joke that we had the same bad taste in women. He jumps straight to “Who’s the hot girl cuffed to the bed?”
“Dude… just…. no….”

Doctor comes in, tells me I have a kidney stone, I need to drink lots of water, and that’ll be $10,000. Liver Cancer named a song after it, you can listen to it here:

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

The Return of Demon Baby

Placerville is a weird place. I’ve been posting these pictures to my social media account as this has been going on. This one below is from December 13th. I was taking out the garbage and this was sitting on my trash can.

Yes, I was compelled to make dumpster baby jokes.
Yes, I was compelled to make dumpster baby jokes.

After posting it, various Satanists and drummers started asking me to steal it for them. I went down later that night, but it was gone. I didn’t see it again until nearly a month later. I was walking my dog last night and it was hanging out on the picnic table in the courtyard.

What happened to it’s hand? HOW DID THIS THING GET SCARIER?!

When I left for work this morning, it had moved off the picnic table and onto the grass. I’m thinking of adopting the little bastard, but I also consider that it has been moving by its own free will, and will likely turn into one of those catholic haunting movies if I let it into my home.

As it stands right now, my dog doesn’t want to go up and down the stairs anymore.


Everybody Else Was Doing It: Top 10 Albums of 2014

All my other music snob friends are running down what their favorite albums of 2014 were. Although I’m personally trying my best to forget that god awful year, sure, there were some cool records that came out. I’ve left out albums made by bands I know personally so I don’t have to play favoritism with you.

Nah I’m just kidding. You guys were left off because you all suck.

Anyway, here we go in Letterman-esque reverse order:

#10: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart – Days of Abandon

PrintThis album was recommended to me by Kevin Ian Stagename of San Francisco death rock heroes The Common Men. If I ever post to Facebook “Hey, what are you guys listening to?” I’m guaranteed to get 10 death metal albums, and then something gay from Kevin.

This band’s blend of 80s rock and modern indie pop is so damn sugary, their music has been picked up for television commercials by chocolate giant Hershey’s. Nothing about my personality should like this record, but I do.

Listen to their song “Eurydice” uploaded by some creep on YouTube who probably had no permission…

#9: Phantogram – Voices

Voices_album_coverOkay, I regret to inform you all that I listened to a lot of pop music and hip-hop this year. My good friend Daniel Reign tried to turn me onto Phantogram with their previous album Eyelid Movies. The problem with that record was that it looped the same drum loops for so long that it turned into Chinese water torture. I was heavily convinced that this was a bullshit band who nobody would ever know about and would be forgotten in a week.

Naturally, I felt like a dick when I heard the breakaway single from this album on alternative rock radio and stated “This is cool! What is this?” They learned how to work a drum machine! Satan be praised!

This album isn’t a sugary pop record like #10. It mostly consists of dark heavy synth tones, and the themes seem to be about werewolves and shit. I really have no idea.

Watch the video for “Fall in Love” where VEVO probably makes a lot more money than the band…

#8: Behemoth – The Satanist

Behemoth_TheSatanist_coverartIf you’re a metal snob turning your nose up at Behemoth and haven’t actually tried this album yet, put your fucking nose down right now. I’m serious. I’ve never been a Behemoth fan in the past (once more, Daniel Reign had frequently tried), but Jesus fucking Christ this album. I think the best way I can put it is to make Deathspell Omega more accessible and song-oriented. Instead of retreading death metal tropes, the record survives on much less gain, but much more dynamics, diminished chord changes, wicked wah solos, and you can actually understand every hoarse appraisal of Satan’s glory that Nergal spits out.

666/10, would bang in a Sigil of Baphomet painted in goat blood on the floor.

Watch the video for “Blow Your Trumpets, Gabriel” which is quite possibly the most metal video of all time and totally NSFW…

#7: Run the Jewels – RTJ2

RunTheJewelsRTJ2This record got a lot of hype and wound up on the top whatever list by every indie music publication. Whereas their first album was just a fun romp with El-P and Killer Mike not taking themselves too seriously and just screwing around, this album goes for the throat as they’ve decided they are now a proper ensemble and they are really pissed off at what has been going on lately.

Aside from the great collection of aggressive hip-hop about getting high, killing cops and fucking shit up in general, they maintain their sense of humor with what is possibly the dirtiest love song I have ever heard.

Download the album for free legally because the band is just cool like that here…

#6: Swans – To Be Kind


If you’re looking for the perfect album from 2014 to give up on living to, this is it. I really, really like Swans’ new sound. If you’re not some legacy die hard Swans fan, please ignore the way that demographic is telling you this stuff is garbage. All this album’s crimes seem completely necessary. Has that riff been droning on forever, and it seems that all is changing is Michael Gira’s tone as he barks his nihilism at you? How do you feel about that? Awful? I imagine that’s what he was going for.

You can choose to listen to the [full album] upload by some dick on YouTube, but if you have a service like Spotify or Google Music, you should probably let Swans get their 2 cents for it…

#5: MC Frontalot – Question Bedtime

MC_Frontalot_-_Question_BedtimeNerdcore artists either take themselves seriously and are simply utilizing the “write what you know” angle, or are complete failures at alternative rap who found out that if you shout about Star Wars enough, the awkward manufactured fad of “geek culture” will buy your crap anyway. Frontalot, being a legend in the scene, might be a little sick of dealing with that stigma.

Nowhere on Question Bedtime will you hear about computer hacking, Dungeons & Dragons, internet porn or giant robots from outer space. It seems like he half considered writing an actual childrens’ album, but he’s nostalgic for what was okay when he was a kid. The record is vaguely vulgar, often dark, and tries its best to preserve the nefarious components of the fairy tales that the songs are based on (or on a few occasions, making them worse).

But mainly the beat work is great, the guest appearances are perfectly cast, and Frontalot’s flow continues to improve.

Let MC Frontalot torment your children with this alternate version of Goldilocks, which is a scary campfire story told to bear cubs about how humans are vicious carnivores.

#4: Busdriver – Perfect Hair

a2528001786_10My favorite hip-hop album of 2014 and I really can’t think of much to say about it other than I played it a lot, I’m still playing it, and it’s awesome. Um, I don’t know. Danny Brown and Aesop Rock show up and that’s pretty awesome, too. Aside from just giving a great set of tongue-in-cheek yet genuine songs, Busdriver has actual vocal talent on top of being a rapper, and he spends a bit more time emphasizing that on this album as opposed to previous “I’m the fastest mother fucker on the planet” excursions he had done (not that there was anything wrong with that).

Listen to the whole album on his bandcamp page because the internet is just awesome that way.

#3: Pallbearer – Foundations of Burden

a2071580201_10This record is full of subtlety that might not stick the first time through, but after about 3 or 4 listens you’ll probably have half the album committed to memory. Pallbearer is a modern doom metal band whose look back at heavy metal’s past seems more focused on what made great albums, rather than picking out the tones that they want to lift. The end result is a cohesive listening experience that can easily fit in with any great 70s or 80s hard rock or heavy metal record.

Listen at their label’s bandcamp page. Dude, bandcamp is awesome, apparently.

#2: The Twilight Sad – Nobody Wants to Be Here and Nobody Wants to Leave

Nobody_Wants_To_Be_Here_And_Nobody_Wants_To_LeaveYep, it’s not one of my top whatever lists without a band that uses a complete sentence for an album title. This is something else Kevin Ian turned me onto, getting me started with their masterpiece of depression rock Forget the Night Ahead. Given the terrible year I’ve had, depressing albums are definitely ranking higher.

The Twlight Sad’s latest effort is a subdued pile of reverberated morphine binging and abstract self-loathing presented through a thick Scottish accent. Actually, that can be used to sum up all of their albums, but I think this is a particularly good outing of it.

Call in sick tomorrow, start drinking early, and listen to the opening track from The Twilight Sad’s latest album…

#1: Sharon Van Etten – Are We There

Sharon-Van-Etten-Are-We-There-608x608This summer, I actually came to love this record as much as I love beer. I even introduced the two and found out they got along extremely well.

This album switches its format slightly on every track, but ultimately it’s a collection of claustrophobic lovelorn despair which harkens back to other classic self-loathing solo albums such as Cohen’s Songs of Love and Hate and Young’s On the Beach, albeit with today’s tonal palette. Some songs float along as melancholy pop ballads, while others bluntly challenge the listener’s patience with over-the-top lyrics about self-abuse and an abrasive tremolo ripping out of Ms Van Etten’s throat. Upon discovering this album, I made a point to go through her entire discography.

Check out the video for the album’s most accessible song, which features Sharon chain smoking and looking vaugely strung out…

Honorable mentions:

  • Mogwai – Rave Tapes
  • Thee Silver Mt Zion Memorial Orchestra – Fuck Off Get Free We Pour Light On Everything
  • St Vincent – s/t
  • The Afghan Whigs – Do the Beast
  • The Roots – …And Then You Shoot Your Cousin
  • Flying Lotus – You’re Dead
  • Dust Moth – Dragon Mouth
  • Old Man Gloom – The Ape of God