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Recommended if you like Thelonious Monk
Tag Archives: Applied Memetics
drugs [2021)
We are finally catching up with Pauly Deathwish.
Here on his sixth album, drugs.
Good psychedelic surf start.
The romance must have seemed possible.
Christian trappings.
A great opening track.
Psychedelic Christianity.
Think of those private press releases from the ’60s and ’70s.
I’m hearing the joy and gravity of Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci.
The breakdown of this song “An Ocean of Cough Syrup” is where it’s at.
Maybe a bit of Kevin Ayers.
Wasted innocence.
After the party.
The party at the end of the world.
Certainly song lyrics reminiscent of Wayne Coyne.
Sonic Youth.
Yummy Yummy Yummy.
Pop psych.
Monkees.
Maybe the romance has faded.
Tabloid.
Even Dire Straits.
Walk of life.
Track 2 with acrobatic chord changes.
Music school.
Straight-up Fort Leavenworth presentation.
A pop song about biological warfare, economic warfare, psychological warfare, and divide/conquer.
This is some serious shit.
Not sure whether to call Billy Bragg or Glenn Greenwald.
This is the kind of shit that wins Nobels.
So maybe we are hearing the new Dylan here.
Imagine if Thom Yorke actually had something to say.
The bends.
Lift.
Leonard Cohen.
John Cale.
Anthemic.
This dude is definitely right-wing.
I guess you could say.
Imagine if Bob Dylan was actually in the John Birch Society.
That’s what you get here.
Hey, take it or leave it.
Ezra Pound!
But this dude is all about ‘merica.
And i got no problem with it.
Climax.
Constitution of the USA.
Time’s up.
“memes at the ready”.
Information warfare taken into the realm of head music.
Songwriting.
This guy is a danger…to the lame liberal establishment.
THIS MOTHERFUCKER HAS RELEASED 7 ALBUMS THIS SUMMER!!!!!!!
Kraftwerk.
Jon Spencer.
Martin Rev dipping Copenhagen.
Ministry?
Butthole Surfers?
Dabbling.
“Latinas for Trump”.
Wow.
Track 3 is a trucker song.
Set in Switzerland.
With production like Nigel Godrich.
It’s a long track.
But enjoyable.
Drum machine and acoustic guitar.
And funky clavinet.
Jerry Reed.
Amos Moses.
Yodeling!
FUcking hell.
Haven’t heard this since Jerry Lee.
Dwight Yoakam.
Chris Isaak.
But this is the kinda shit cognizant about There’s a Riot Goin’ On.
Spaced cowboy.
Travelogue of Swiss sites from cinema history.
I have a feeling this guy would drink Klaus Schwab’s blood.
This conspiracy platter is fine listening.
Variety.
French/German.
No Italian.
Except Cortina d’Ampezzo.
No Romansch.
Motorik.
NEU! meets Gram Parsons.
Who is/was this “Swiss Alps Truck-Driving Gal”?
Cosmic funk.
Like French band Air.
Great bassline.
Dancy filler track of highest quality.
Mike Lindell needs to hear this shit.
mark_packet.
recieve_good.
What if Wayne Coyne and Dave Fridmann actually made songs that spoke to something larger?
They’ve hit it occasionally.
You gotta have Jesus in your heart.
Brian Eno first four records spun out again and again.
Cornelius.
Stereolab.
And WHAT THE FUCK?!?
Delta blues?
Country blues???
Yes, indeed.
“COVID-19 Blues”.
Like late-period Dylan.
Seriously.
If Dylan passes, this dude is next up.
I know it sounds implausible.
Communism used to be risqué.
Now the tables have turned.
Paul Joseph Watson needs to hear this shit.
The human condition.
Dr. Steve Pieczenik needs to hear this song, “COVID-19 Blues”.
This is Stax.
Muscle Shoals.
Atlantic.
Booker T.
But with that San Antonio twist.
Pauly Deathwish from the Alamo city.
Augie Meyers.
Flaco Jimenez.
Is Trump still the President? 😉
When was this written?
Why that move to Bedminster?
Cabinet meeting.
A unifying song.
Like “Dixie”.
Ask Abraham Lincoln about “Dixie”.
Masked and anonymous.
QAnon line as money shot.
Sweet harmonica.
Linn drums.
Beck.
Loop.
It don’t matter.
This record rocks the Walmart parking lot.
GUITAR SOLO!
Jimmy Vaughn.
B.B. King.
Richard Manuel tickling the ivories.
Band brown album.
Call Q.
Call Mojo.
Call Uncut.
Side two for all you vinyl lovers.
“Let’s Get Creative”.
Floyd delay.
Sexy song.
J. Spaceman.
Jeff Tweedy.
Kid A.
Really special production.
Which just goes to show that anything can be done with an iPhone.
Except privacy.
Tim Cook cocksucker.
In shitty record store.
Radiohead were our Beatles.
Or their Beatles.
Now many friends have left.
You can’t say White Lives Matter.
Can someone please tell Pauly Deathwish this?
Not that he SAID it.
Because he didn’t.
Trail of Dead.
Which makes sense.
Read this motherfucker’s bio on Spotify.
No slouch.
I happen to know some extra details which I may divulge at a later date.
Lots of training in music composition.
Multiple touches with Nadia Boulanger.
Sexy song.
T. Rex.
Bolan.
Jonny Greenwood.
Scott Pilgrim.
Edgar Wright needs to hear this shit.
No cap.
Dead ass.
Trans.
Neil Young.
Dead Man.
Thurston Moore needs to hear this shit.
Funny mention.
Watch the water.
August 20.
Rollerskate Skinny appreciation society.
St. Johnny.
Boo Radleys.
First Stereolab album.
Grandaddy.
Harvest drums.
Like it!
Like a Sonic Youth country album.
Made in a barn.
Nothing Ween about this shit.
Except for the trucker song.
Which is funny as fuck.
This dude definitely a QAnon.
“Midnight Rider”.
Paul Revere.
One if by…two…
Mercury Rev.
Suzanne Thorpe.
Applied memetics.
Oh shit.
First Eno record.
Desert island.
THIS is impressive.
Turns out to be motto of 4th Psychological Operations Group (4thPOG) at Fort Bragg.
The PSYWAR just got real.
Vietnamese ghosts amplified.
But this is Chinese.
China bio attack.
Fauci through China.
Focus on Peter Daszak and his absurd opera-singer brother.
There is going to be hell to pay.
Q-uantum of solace.
PCAPs.
Obviously, Pauly Deathwish loves the instrumentals from Bowie’s Low.
This is a constant touchstone.
Trance.
Meditative techno.
Ugh.
When the bass drops in on “Verbum Vincet ’72”.
Who was Q?
Who is Q?
Was Q a psychological operation?
From whence might it have emanated?
Roger Waters.
Hell to pay.
Criminal networks wiped off the face of the earth.
Peking opera.
Sue me.
LeBron James is a worthless cocksucker.
I think I would get along with this Pauly Deathwish guy.
8964.
We have it all…in Utah.
“Bluffdale” like Marquee Moon.
Meets chiptune.
Super Marquee Moon.
Even a bit of John Bonham.
Good drum sound.
Dubstep?
Riots worldwide.
No vaccine passports.
Here’s where BLM and MAGA come together.
Don’t vax us, man.
A unifying event.
The real racists are the totalitarian Democrats.
Am I doing this right?
Pepe Lives Matter needs to hear this shit.
Klaus Voorman bass.
Leave it in.
Smacked out of your gourd.
Phil Spector murdered by the Rona.
Lee “Scratch” producing The Clash.
People want to sleep forever.
Sleep through this global nightmare.
Gotta wake up.
But the reality is crushing.
So God gives us solace here and there.
Black ark.
Meandering.
Oar.
Moby grape.
Hal Blaine back in the barn stoned on some world-class shit.
Nodding.
Space-age.
Astral weeks.
Nick Drake.
Ending album on serious note?
“Cotton Ball Soup”.
Will the masses win?
Against the vaccine passport bastards?
Montreal.
Where’s GYBE?
No heroes can be found.
Where’s Thom Yorke?
Radiohead?
Bob Dylan?
WWIII.
iTunes.
Spotify.
-PD
Paisà [1946)
Something about the late night.
And a war movie.
Makes me tired of fighting.
The ongoing war.
Identify: friend or foe?
The Italian partisans were fighting against their own fascist government.
They were fighting against the Nazis.
This will be a little late in coming, but an idea can have a soft opening.
Applied Memetics.
Memetic engineering.
We bombed Sicily.
Clear the beaches.
A daughter-in-law (it is implied) was killed by our bombs.
Boom boom.
And now she cannot even have her wake in peace.
She was an egg for a larger omelet. That should be remembered both ways.
Disgusting. And no other way around it.
Warfare in 1943.
Is it a road?
No, it’s lava.
So many misunderstandings in war.
I’m an American.
Me.
The author.
It is the country of my birth.
And I love my country.
The partisans were fighting the fascists.
The fascists were the outgoing government.
More clearly, I defend the pillars.
Free speech.
Push the limits.
USE your free speech.
Get the word out.
Be wrong.
Apologize.
Try to get it right.
Study science.
Drunk in Naples.
Thinking of DeFord Bailey.
Born same day as me.
Harmonica Frank.
Ain’t talkin’. Just walkin’.
You gonna have to eat those boots if you lose them.
Which is a contradiction.
Maria Michi was such a bitch in Roma, città aperta.
You remember?
We she comes face to face with torture???
And so the OSS fought with the partisans.
Training in explosives. And survival. Every possible scenario.
Basics. Navigation of small boats.
Because poetry is always dangerous.
You might analyze an entire Yankees season in two minutes, but I am large vast, I contain mul,ti,tudes,,,
Improved upon by the collective unconscious.
What?
Well, Maria Michi redeems herself here.
Still a whore.
But a heart of gold.
Straight from central casting (as Webster Tarpley might say).
I believe it was The Thrills.
Love in vain?
Two lights…diverged in a forest…AC/DC
I alternate between direct and oblique.
That was Rome.
Most notable for war is Florence.
The Rucellai gardens…ah.
I haven’t heard that name in a long time—
Wan excrement.
Nick Tosches.
We take up Machiavelli to study war.
Because there is something worth defending.
As faded as it is.
Over five-hundred years ago…they were already lamenting.
It’s nothing new.
What Sean Elliott correctly calls curmudgeon talk.
Will Harriet Medin taste youth one more time?
Because the great painter-warrior seems to be in danger.
Across the Arno.
Putting the Po in poverty.
Lou Reed became Transformer.
The Wolf. Lupo.
Call me Winston.
That Rosser Reeves should have died in 1984.
Better living through chemistry.
Thank God for mental illness.
Tonight I’m gonna rock you tonight.
Second request.
Uffizi with crated antiquity.
A more high-dollar GoldenEye.
Impenetrable.
We always rebel against our kind.
Youth.
The imperfect circle of mimesis morphed.
And meme.
Daddy-O.
Like watercolors one bleedingintotheother.
Which we would have called word painting for J.S. In a cantata. Or oratorio.
Wasn’t a “years of lead” scale attack. Uffizi. 1993.
But we seem to trace the progression of honorable men (OSS) to bizarre hydra (CIA).
Short sword for thrusting.
To each, his own.
The British (like the Catholics) are portrayed as spoiled twats.
[The Catholics (director Rossellini being Italian) are portrayed lovingly as myopic outliers]
Shakespeare would have been appalled by Shakespeare in Love.
And right before the “Fine” a noyade.
Viz. know your history.
I am guilty as hell.
Of being an idiot.
But I have a lust for life beneath this quiet desperation.
-PD
paulydeathwish 