Coinky Dink DJ #2 - Hey Soul Sister

A fine example of Ritual Magick encoded into a pretty decent pop song.  The following caption may offend some readers.  Strong sexual content.  Please use discretion.

The main themes are 1) Sexual Cannibalism 2) Agri-Natural Sacrificial Paganism/Pantheism 3) Incest as Eros 4) VALIS, the Zebra 5) Medial Perpetuation

The vocals begin "Hey...."  The mystical word Heh (say Hay) means "seed".  This provides an immediate multi-pun.  The term seed/heh implies "semen" and the "germ of wheat" to reinforce the themes of Oral Sex, the consumption of semen and/or menses as food (see Crowley on 69), and also the image of cyclical ritual sacrifice upon which our agriculture relies.  The lyrics "soul sister" and "one of my kind" underlay the incest theme, which is also found in Crowley 69.  Moreover "soul sister" provides a neat homophonic pun upon "solsticer".  A Solsticer (from the term solstice) is a natural pagan wizard, in essence an agri-priest to preside over sacrificial rites.  Crowley, of course, published the infamous Equinox Magazine - Reader's Digest for the Satanist.  The lyric "Ain't that Mr. Mister" is just chock full of wickedness.  Mr. Mister is a notoriously transparent crypto-Christian Magick school.  Listen to this song - he ain't singing about a girl, dummy!  It's about Jesus.  "Baby"... get it?



Back on the Soul Train. The "Soul Sister" video shows a fascination with black and white stripes.  This is a toughy for the uninitiated.  The lyric in question is "just in time I'm so glad you have a one track mind". The implication is an idea of writer Philip K. Dick - author of the source for Blade Runner, Minority Report and Total Recall.  Dick called it VALIS and at other times the "Zebra".  Basically, VALIS is a massive magnetic tape or computer drive onto which all reality is backed up and repeating on an endless loop.  The black and white stripes indicate both binary data and a digital bar code - mark of the beast etc.  This, shall we say, "inception" allows for the appreciation of reality as a perpetuation of a media event.

On a critical aside, this song is a brilliant creation that owes its roots to the old Brill Building writers from daze of yore.  It is not Art, but supreme Craftsmanship.  Hope you enjoy.  Hail Satan (a cab)!

Coinky Dink DJ #1 - Goodbye Eddie, Goodbye

This song is a blue print of the central allegory of Egyptian Myth and Magick and Ritual. Eddie is Osiris (Jesus). Mary Louise is Isis (the Magdelene). "Eddie Mitty" is a homophonic pun for the term "admit Y" (y chromosome) meaning admit only "the male". The operation Mary needs is a sex change. Eddie gives "all he can give", viz, his "manhood", so that his sister can travel away from the Sun toward the Gates of Mars, where the female sex is not permitted. Watch the lead singer wrap his mike cord around his arm. This act mimics the Judaic tradition of the tefillin (image below). Notice the "pyramid pose" of the 3 singers, at the end of the song. The ritual in question is that of circumcision.  Some key triggers: "Overnight Sensation" (the Sun). "Never knew his father" (virgin birth). "Shock" sounds like choke, and later "Choked Up"(circumcision/masturbation).  "Born in Jersey City" (JC = Christ and also, Jersey is a type of cow, ergo Jersey City is a meta-pun on "the manger of Bethlehem".

Pay special attention to Winslow's clothes.  The glue side of the banner (over his shoulder) appears like the blue and white pattern of Moses, worn as a vestment by the Jewish male.  Winslow is a Rabbi!

A quick critical note.  If you are a cinephile, check out "Phantom of the Paradise".  A serious fucking masterwork - all secrets reside within.

Black Lotus, Red Midnight

On Friday last, I took in a live Death Metal show - a first for middle aged me, and a night I will never forget.

Me and my crew parked and got primed in the car, with a few dutchies and a mickey each of Gibsons finest sipping whiskey, and arrived feeling fine with two acts still on deck.

First up was Antediluvian, who lived up to their name, and how, as a thick black tsunami of liquid cement slammed the willing thrall into zombie submission of the mesmerized.  The groove was vicious and viscous and without quarter.  Each quaver of pulse like a lifetime in a steel mill. Soon the crowd is drowned in molten oil -  the blackest oil, from the heart of the earth, where perfect dark awaits in serene ambivalence to wash away the stench of evil in the name of God.  Totally fucking bitchin'.

At the end of Antediluvian's rigorous madness someone calls out "Hail Satan".  I think it might be me.  I think I mean it.

Chilling outside, sharing a rolly or two and the last of our whiskey, me and my cadre of ninjas begin to feel a little out of place.  We catch a few sidelong glances - all of us basically clean shaven and dressed like rejects from a frat party - what the fuck are we doing here?  Sure, we look a wee bit autre, me and my gangstas.  Looks will deceive - but make no mistake, yea droogies, we are here for the music and in a short while we will leave fully quenched.  Quenched of an invisible fire and ready for fresh guts, or at least a short stack with a side of bacon at the all night Husky.

Next up, headliners Begrime Exemious.

Holy Shit do these brothers thrash with their brass out.  Quickly into their set, I feel a chaotic ball of twilight descend upon me, as one by one my chakras turn into Newcastle's finest pitch.  Perfect pitch in the key of midnight.  The coldest coal.  It was at this instant that the mirror cracked.  The crowd, at one moment repentant and in fusion with relentless tommy-gun drum riffs, break the unseen wall unto the tightrope of depravity.  Front man Brian Leland (aka Violent Restitutions) baptizes in sulfur all who enter upon the threshing floor into the vital, bloody nexus of Begrime itself. And here the pungent balance of raw and screeching Death Metal and stone funky riff-mastery seems to rise in super-heated ripples not merely from the band but at last from the killing floor itself as those Begrime be-knighted groove on down to the depths of Gehenna - or thereabouts.

To put it bluntly Begrime fucking pwns, mutha!  A fitting tribute to the Master.

I know. I've got the bruises to prove it.

Peace Out Pimps.