Mondays get a bad rap. Every one of your Facebook friends, every hack comedian on a stage, every misanthropic orange tabby with an eating disorder who communicates through thought bubbles– everyone’s constantly ganging up on Mondays. And I get it. It’s a completely understandable hatred. First day of the working week, after the relaxing (or debaucherous) weekend, back in the cubicle, probably nursing a ridiculous hangover, muttering bitterly “fuck this day, man, why can’t we just have a second Sunday?”. As if the existence of an eighth day in the week would somehow eliminate the need for a Monday.

And they always come so quickly. Increasingly so as time slips by, with each consecutive week taking up a smaller percentage of our total lifespan. Weekends seem shorter and more fleeting, therefore scarcer and more precious. Mondays are seen as the overzealous helicopter parent who shows up early to pick us up from the party, prying us from the delicious stagnancy of the weekend and unceremoniously dumping us back into routine.

But to me, Mondays have always been so much easier than Tuesdays. Mondays are kinder. Mondays are slower. Everything and everybody around you seems to understand that you’re gradually easing back into the grind, so the workload feels much lighter,  my colleagues seem so more compassionate, every meeting has that overriding feeling of “okay, gang, let’s just get through this”. Tuesday, though, Tuesday is cruel, Tuesday is vicious, Tuesday is merciless– on Tuesday, the gloves are off, you’re effectively in the week and people have no qualms about smothering you with work and pulling you in hundreds of different directions. And for all the whining people do about the start of the week, I think they just resent the fact that they even have to work for a living, and they use Monday as a scapegoat. Poor Monday did nothing wrong. Tuesday is the real enemy.

But you can fight back. I present this ass-kicking 38-minute playlist I lovingly put together to aid you. Let’s hadoken Tuesday into submission with these high-octane pumped-up jams. Together, we can get through this.

Tracklist:

BRONZE- “Horses”
tUnE-YaRdS- “Gangsta”
Die Antwoord- “Fatty Boom Boom”
Girlfriends- “Bernie Mac Attack”
Baroness- “Psalms Alive”
Kongos- “I’m Only Joking”
Y La Orkesta- “Mambo Mexicano”
Cleft- “Gulch”
Ostrander Aardvark- “Panther Panther”
Black Joe Lewis & The Honeybears- “Sugarfoot”
Jessy Bulbo- “Maldito”

Click here to play: 

Status: Awesome

PBA: 1

I’m detoxing again this week (ugh!), so there will be no Try-It Tuesday. I know we skipped last week, but there is NO WAY IN HELL that we’ll be doing some fancy schmancy new recipe, and I can’t have any. So. There. I said it. Not happening this week. On the job front, well, it’s not looking so rosy. But I’m going on interviews, and trying my best. It’ll work out. Right? Right? I hope so.

I’ve also realised that I really should stop watching TV series aimed at teenagers. First, I’m 25. Second, the hopefulness of youth rubs off on the viewer. The hope of life and love being epic and perfect creates a false security. And did I mention, I’m 25? No more. Vampire Diaries? Out! (I’ll miss Damon, though) Awkward? Definitely OUT! Glee? Done. Pretty Little Liars and Gossip Girl? SO out. I’ll miss them though. Especially Damon Salvatore (Ian Somerhalder). Good lord, that man… He does things to me. Dirty things. Unspeakable things. I need to stop.

Since there will be no recipe this week, I shall share our Red Hot Chili Peppers concert with you. It was an awesome night. And day. Epic overall. I went to meet my sister in the early afternoon in the city. She had the afternoon off, and I had the day off, so we decided that we should start drinking. And so we did. We had a good couple of beers, mixed with some old fashioned gossip, a touch of crying and a dash of heart to heart. Much needed bonding. We met up with our men, and went for drinks at friends since we didn’t want to see the opening act, which happened to be Die Antwoord. Blegh. Anyway we walked down to the stadium, thoroughly juiced and super psyched for RHCP to come on.

We (I) went photo crazy! It was unbelievable. I loved every minute. The boys were not so much interested in seeing the band, nor were the friends. Turns out everyone came, just because my sister and I so badly wanted to go. The upside of that was that our boys were just hanging at the bar, and kept our drinks filled while they were chowing down on hotdogs, and slurping their beers. I so love concerts. The vibe. The people. The electricity in the air. The fact that you can lose your inhibitions, go crazy and weird, and nobody cares. Which is exactly what we did… See the video. Speaking of, to film the video, I just arbitrarily handed my (NEW) iPhone to a random guy behind us. Thoroughly boozed, and completely entranced by the good vibes of the show. But he didn’t run away. He gave it right back. Lucky drunk me. Faith in Humanity restored. Anyway. The Peppers rocked our socks off. It was so worth the hangover. And the severely stiff joints, since we walked just about right through the entire CBD of Cape Town to get back to the car. With my sister bitching because they didn’t play Otherside. But they played very few new-ish songs, mostly old, dusty, well-loved tunes, which is amazing. You can view the video here: http://youtu.be/S5lP5HwrHLY. Fair warning: it is dark, and blurry, but the sound is pretty good and you can see the silhouettes of the drunky-singy-bouncy-jumpy-sisters. And on this note, enjoy the show (and apologies for the crooked landscape of the stadium, I was trying out the Panorama function on my phone, and cropping it off doesn’t look right):

Standing in line to
See the show tonight
And there’s a light on
Heavy glow
By the way I tried to say
I’d be there waiting for
Dani’s the girl is
Singing songs to me
Beneath the marquee

Greenpoint Stadium

Sis & Hubby

Bro-in-Law

The man & I

Sisters

The man & I

Sisters

Bromigos

Much Love <3

I changed the Layout again to a more workable one.

I got some images as inspiration for my first character. A sketch will follow later:

I saw a similar dog accompanying a homeless man in Santa Monica. He/She will be the base form of my character.

The original fishing hat I had is on my portable hard drive, which is not compatible with Mac. Here is something similar.

Weird Seagull will be my character’s sidekick. I took this picture by the way.

I’ve decided that the dog will not exactly be a stray. I decided that the dog’s owner will be an old man who lives on a boat that was owned by his late brother.

The boat will look like this.

For some reason I couldn’t get the images of Marissa Cooper’s Dad (from the OC) and “Ninja” from Die Antwoord out of my head, when I was thinking about the old man. But he is going to be a person trying to live a life of peace after his brother’s death.

Mr. Cooper (I wish I had a picture of him on the boat he used to live on).

And here is Yolandi and Ninja of Die Antwoord:

Goodnight guys .

P.S. I finally bought a computer! I will be posting more consistently from now on.

Those big lenses (they covered my sclera, eye whites) really hurt my eyes after a while, and I even got a bit of paint in there. The paint itself was so sticky that I had trouble getting my hands off my face/neck (after posing)

WARNING: MOST OF THE MUSIC IN THIS POST FEATURES DISTURBING OR OFFENSIVE CONTENT. OR IS JUST REALLY, REALLY STRANGE.

It was a cool, but sunny Indiana day when I walked into the house where my friends Adam and Joe were living.  Joe had just discovered a really wild South African rap group and was all about it.  It was driving Adam insane.  The polarizing nature of Die Antwoord’s music isn’t really all that surprising; the group’s offensively aggressive style is unquestionably abrasive and learning more about the group seems to incite either admiration or rage, but never anything in between.

To gain an understanding of what exactly is going on with the loud and vulgar brand of rave-rap that Die Antwoord deals in an explanation of the South African zef subculture is necessary.  Zef refers to a certain anti-posh attitude, or perhaps more accurately to reveling in the dirty glory of Johannesburg slum life.  Die Antwoord’s vocalists Ninja and Yo-Landi Vi$$er take this trashy-but-extravagant ideal to great lengths, and the band is really as much of a performance art piece as a genuine expression of its members’ roots.  Die Antwoord bristles at being questioned if their presentation of graphic lyrics, prison tattoos, and grungy bleach-blonde mullets is real, but the deeper point is actually that nothing is real.  Ninja himself has expressed the idea that the general public needs something as outlandish as Die Antwoord to wake up from complacently consuming establishment pop culture.  In this sense the hip-hop outfit is just what its name portends: die antwoord is Afrikaans for “the answer”.

Die Antwoord is the current project for the aforementioned Ninja, the erstwhile Watkin Tudor Jones.  Jones has previously helmed the similarly self-aware satirical rap groups MaxNormal.TV and The Constructus Corporation.  While MaxNormal.TV and The Constructus Corporation aimed to take the music industry and mainstream capitalism to task while also producing high-concept multimedia projects, Die Antwoord took a dive into the Zef underside of South African society.  The fascination with art (particularly the work of photographer Roger Ballen) and societal issues has remained, but Die Antwoord presents itself in a much dirtier package than the clean-cut suit-and-tie rapping of Max Normal and the Constructus Corporation.  Not only are there no suits to be seen, it’s fairly uncommon for anyone associated with Die Antwoord to even be wearing a shirt.

Die Antwoord’s core is composed of real-life couple Ninja (Jones) and Yo-landi Vi$$er (a.k.a. Anri du Toit), who trade off hyper-energetic rap vocals and dance moves over the souped-up beats made by their “producer” DJ Hi-Tek, who is associated with the group because he has a “PC Computer” that can make next-level beats.  The group burst onto the Cape Town Zef scene with 2008′s $O$, and following the release of some enlightening music videos on youtube signed a contract with Interscope Records.  Disputes about potentially offensive content and subject matter, however, strained relations between the rappers and the record label, and Die Antwoord split from Interscope to release further material on their own.  The group’s second full-length album, Ten$ion, was released in 2012 on Zef Side Records and picks up almost precisely where $O$ had left off.

The next-level beats that Ninja uses to describe DJ Hi-Tek’s tracks are varied in their influences and their outcomes:  A Die Antwoord song may creep slinkily along to a light piano loop and a minimalist drum click or slam the listener’s ears with syncopated tribal grooves and hard-edged synthesizer stabs.  As accompaniment to the snarling attitude of Ninja and the pint-size anger of Yo-Landi, the beats set up an aural atmosphere that matches the apocalyptically dirty things happening in the songs’ lyrics.  Ninja and Yo-landi’s lyrics aren’t always easily discerned, as English is woven in with Afrikaans, zef slang, and on at least one occasion the Prawn language from Neill Blomkamp’s 2009 film District 9.  While the lyrics that do come through are typically unprintably explicit, they also carry important messages; aside from painting a caricature of a sexually aggressive and potentially violent pair of lunatics, Die Antwoord has tackled societal issues from income inequality to ritual circumcision.  The songs of $O$ and Ten$ion are really statements validating the existence of anyone living at South African society’s margins; if the context is grimy and unsettling, it’s equally a statement about the perception of these people and a glamorization of that which is inherently un-glamorous.

Die Antwoord’s music is enjoyable (this may not be the best word here…) alone, but a full appreciation of what is going on isn’t really possible without the visual dimension that the band provides through its music videos and live performance.  It is fair to mention that some of the more evocative moments haven’t been brought to life this way, such as the transition from the impending-doom durge “Doos Dronk” to $O$‘s sublime title track and straight to the triumphant South-African-acapella-meets-dubstep of “Never Le Nkemise 1“, but the group’s performance-art roots lend themselves well to a visual medium.  These videos often make the videos seem more important, as the clip for “Enter the Ninja” introduces the act as the ugly-but-true reflection of South African culture and stars the Cape Town electronic artist and progeria sufferer Leon Botha.  Both the music and the video for “Fok Julle Naaiers“, meanwhile, give zef culture a bad-boy swagger: the track is menacing, and the video features heavily-tattooed and fearsome-looking men glaring in monochrome darkness.  Both “Baby’s on Fire” and “Fatty Boom Boom” are satirical and play up Yo-landi’s role as a female MC that is equal parts sexy and terrifying, her wild makeup and horror-movie contact lenses keeping the viewer from looking away even as the images get ever more off-putting otherwise.  The video for the song “Evil Boy” likely takes the award for both most meaningful and most provocative: monsters, phallic representations, revealing costumes, and a young Xhosa rapper named Wanga all swirl around in the dark underground as the group takes a stand against forcing young men to be ritually circumcised.  Die Antwoord has also taken their carnival of insanity as high as the Late Show with David Letterman, which is important at the very least for the mental image of the mainstream American audience being subjected to the hyperactive wickedness of  “I Fink U Freeky“.  So they have that going for them as well.

The fact that Die Antwoord’s music and the imagery that they choose to represent themselves with probably makes a lot of people squirm is undoubtedly intentional.  For that matter, controversy is essentially one of the group’s stated goals.  The conflict with Interscope that led to the end of their short-lived tenure as major-label artists stemmed from disagreement over some of the ickier points of that album’s subject matter.  In the short few years that Die Antwoord has been performing they have angered both gay rights groups (unintentionally- there are a lot of misconceptions about “Evil Boy”) and Lady Gaga (intentionally and unapologetically), and the shock value approach that the group has chosen to employ in getting their message out is working beautifully.  To paraphrase Yo-landi Vi$$er, the group made its music their own way, and the fact that they’ve been able to garner a cult fanbase without compromising their own vision of artistic integrity is a blessing.  Die Antwoord can be followed through their official website at dieantwoord.com, as well as through facebook and twitter.  Nobody is listening to Die Antwoord, and though the group is often a bit horrifying and not at all something that’s appropriate for polite company, the group has a unique vision for their band on the record and in real life.  The music Die Antwoord makes mirrors their personas: creepy and loud, but strikingly informative and unflinchingly honest.

Now let’s get on with it.

Ninja and Yo-Landi Va$$er of Die Antwoord.

Song: “Baby’s On Fire”

Performed by: Die Antwoord

Album: Ten$ion (2012)

Someone recently introduced me to this South African hip-hop/techno duo (maybe Zef would be more accurate) while we were driving in his car, and I immediately fell in love with their brashness, their weirdness, and their flawless delivery. Die Antwoord (which means The Answer in Afrikaans) has been a group since 2008-ish, but their album, Ten$ion (2012), is definitely their best, though there are some really good tracks on their debut, $o$, too.

Anyway, while “Fatty Boom Boom” was the first song I heard that made me sit up and go “Ooh! This is good!”, I’m making “Baby’s On Fire” my Song of the Day, because I love Yo-Landi Vi$$er. She sounds like she’s 12, but she will kill a motherfucker.

The video on top contains just the song and the lyrics if you just want a listen (also, um, there’s Spotify and Pandora). Below that is the official video, which is a battle cry from little sisters everywhere telling their privileged older brothers who get everything they want to stop being so protective about who they do or don’t get into bed with. And apparently, that message sometimes needs to be conveyed with a brick to the face.

Enjoy the weirdness.

This is a lost gem, a beautiful little piece of musical history.

Related posts: Music Video Monday’s Greatest Hits

• Insane music video + lyrics – EXCELLENT HORSE-LIKE LADY
• The Red Pen of Doom shoots up Train’s DRIVE BY
• ICE, ICE BABY as interpreted by the Red Pen of Doom
• Music Video Deathmatch: Lady Gaga vs Justin Bieber
• SUGAR WE’RE GOING DOWN by Fall Out Boy
• ELECTRIC AVENUE, as interpreted by the Red Pen of Doom
• Music Video Monday: Florence + The Machine
• THE KILL by 30 Seconds to Mars
• TAKE ON ME by A-Ha
• ENTER THE NINJA by Die Antwoord
• COUNTDOWN by Beyonce and some genius student in a snuggie

###

Guy – Photo by Suhyoon Cho

Reformed journalist. Scribbler of speeches and whatnot. Wrote a thriller that was a finalist for some award.

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Francois van Coke and Jedd Kossew at the 2013 Backsberg Picnic Concert series. Pic courtesy Sean Furlong Photography: seanfphotography.blogspot.com

“It’s important for us that we’re doing it for the right reasons” – Simon Back, Marketing Manager of Backsberg and founder of the Backsberg Picnic Concert Series.

Die Antwoord: it means “The Answer” in Afrikaans. You’ve never heard anything like them, I can guarantee it (and if you have, you need to share it with me, ASAP). They’re controversial, crass, considered hyper-sexual and often overtly inappropriate and offensive. It’s true–their music is definitely not for the politically-correct or those overly conscious about stereotypes and blatant portrayal and confrontation with ‘”taboo” subjects. But if you can recognize them as a group of musicians, artists, performers expressing their ideas in their own way (which happens to receive a lot of attention), then I’d definitely give these guys an honest shot. The vocalists of this rap group, Ninja (Watkin Tudor Jones) and Yo-Landi Vi$$er (Anri Du Toit), along with DJ Hi-Tek (Justin De Nobrega) represent the Zef movement in their very attitude and appearance, and of course, what they rap about.  The Zef movement, by the way, is best described by Yo-Landi: “It’s associated with people who soup their cars up and rock gold and shit. Zef is, you’re poor but you’re fancy. You’re poor but you’re sexy, you’ve got style.” Zef, which roughly translates to common in English, is not of the poorest classes of society, but rather of mostly white people of the lower-middle class, who tend to glorify cheap things.

Die Antwoord must be doing something right, despite their controversial status, because they have a large cult following (who also provide quite an array of fan art) and have created their own record label, Zef Recordz, in order to maintain their originality and their vision for their music. They were signed to Interscope Records for a while, but left when the company urged them to write material more mediated for popular culture.

The group has two albums out, $O$ and Ten$ion, and are rumored to be releasing another this year.

Their lyrics are in English, Xhosa, and Afrikaans, so don’t be surprised if you don’t always understand them. But it doesn’t matter–you’ll be too busy moving to their infectious beat and laughing at the bluntness of their lyrics (the parts you can discern) to care about the occasional language barrier.

In the field of 3D animation and robotics, there is something called the “uncanny valley” hypothesis. It states that as an animated figure or robot becomes more and more life-like the human response is increasingly empathetic. Until, that is, a certain point where the figure is almost but not perfectly human. Here, the response turns to revulsion. This point is called the valley, or drop off. Accidental prodigy and bad-boy visionary Harmony Korine seems to elicit the same sort of revulsion with his films.

Kids (1995) – Harmony Korine and Larry Clark at the Cannes Film Festival

To begin to understand Korine, you must first know the origins of his career. As a nineteen-year-old college dropout in New York City, he met fringe photographer Larry Clark while skating in Washington Square Park. Clark was already an established outcast at the time, with a reputation for teen photography that was viewed as dangerous and “exploitative” by mainstream America. Upon making friends with Clark, Korine showed him a screenplay he had written in high school and Clark asked him to write a film about his skater friends. In two weeks in his grandmother’s basement, Korine wrote the script that would become Kids, one of the most controversial movies of the 1990s.

A first film for both writer and director, Kids (1995) chronicles a sex-and-drug-filled day in the life of several Manhattan teenagers. It highlights one teen, Telly, whose idea of safe sex is deflowering virgins. What might otherwise be dismissed as foolish hormone-driven behavior takes a much darker turn when we learn that Telly is infected with HIV. The film is powerful because of its realism and documentary feel. Most of this can be attributed to Korine’s incredible ear for dialogue. The realism in Kids is exactly what skyrocketed the film to the forefront of discussion at its release. At 22, Korine was already the target of the scorn and disgust of many Americans. There he has happily stayed, evolving his ability to shock and repulse ever since.

What separates Korine and Clark from each other, is a thin line between sensitivity to and voyeuristic fascination with the vulgar and disturbing. Where Clark had been accused of manipulation before, it became clear that Korine found beauty in each of his subjects – one reason he has never been targeted as an exploiter. The Kids screenplay showed the beginnings of what were to become Korine’s trademarks. Non-story, seemingly aimless plotlines, realistic dialogue and bone-chilling subject matter have become reoccurring themes in the writer/director’s work.

From a visual standpoint, the Dogme 95 movement can be highlighted as a serious influence in the shaping of Korine’s style. As an artist with a similar ideology to the filmmakers of the Dogme movement, Korine was asked to participate in 1999.

Julien Donkey-Boy was the first American Dogme film, and the sixth internationally. Although Korine broke or bent several of the rules, his film is considered a successful representation of the Dogme movement. The alienating aesthetic and dreamlike quality of the sequencing are products of the Dogme manifesto. Because of the limiting stipulations, Korine was forced to expand upon his already established style of extreme realism told through nightmarish aesthetics. He was required to use hand-held camera the whole time, so he played with that look. He was required to film completely on location, so each chosen shot has meaning and consideration behind it. Ironically, by joining the Dogme movement, Korine successfully created a product completely original and separate from anything else produced by Dogme 95. It seems that he is an artist who is stubbornly unique, unable to fall into any category except his own.

Again, what sets Korine apart from the others is his sensitivity to the subjects. He has an innate understanding of the people whose stories he’s telling and finds beauty and sympathy in their characters, even if they’re an abusive father, a cat-killing redneck, or a teenager spreading HIV. The result is a body of work that is comprised of intimate character study.

Julien Donkey-Boy is about a schizophrenic man and his family, and it explores the idea of love despite all social taboos. Korine’s grainy and nonlinear composition brings the viewer out of normalcy into a realm of deep, visceral connection with the characters. This concept of a purely character driven film is most perfectly expressed in the first ten minutes.

The opening image is one repeated frequently throughout Donkey-Boy. It is a blurry, televised clip of a female figure skater set to operatic music. The image is powerful, and although we cannot see a face, the movement conveyed is so engrossing that we connect instantly.

Following this, we are immediately launched into a scene where a little girl and a bizarre man are in a field. We do not see the girl, although we can assume that we look through her eyes (POV). The grass is taller than we are, our vision is shaky, we cannot tell who is present except through voices. The voices are crisp and the dialogue is haunting. We know nothing about these two characters, but are instantly alienated. There is nothing to which the audience can connect. No faces. Very little that is familiar. The girl appears to have found a turtle, something that launches the man into a frenzy, violently knocking her over and beginning a tirade of garbled Bible verses. This is the first time we see a face clearly, something that is rare in Donkey-Boy; the man is leaning over the camera, leaning over us, drooling and yelling. At this point we are disoriented, confused and perhaps more than a little upset. We have met Julien.

The artfully telling sequence continues. We are confronted with a series of seemingly random clips portraying strange figures. A young pregnant woman in a leotard and tutu spins gracefully in a room, alone. She possesses the same beauty as the figure skater. We then see a man dancing in boxers to the radio in a separate room, alone. His clumsy movements are harsh in contrast to the woman’s. Next we see an old woman lying on a couch alone with her dog. We cannot understand her words, and neither can the dog, who struggles to leave her grasp. Then the scene cuts to a boy climbing a staircase with his hands, alone. We have met Julien’s family.

Through only this opening sequence, Korine has told his story and developed his aesthetic. We have met all of the principal characters and we know their lives and struggles. Korine’s goal is to tell their story through non-linear experiences. Through moments. His goal is to illustrate the characters to his audience. He does not make any claims to the relationship between them, rather, that is something for the audience to feel. To navigate. To discover. And by the end of the film, to know on a deep level that surpasses anything a conventional or intellectual narration might convey. We are to come away from Julien Donkey-Boy with an understanding of love and beauty that we construct for ourselves through an intimate encounter with a family.

This process is successful immediately. Though the audience may be confused by the form, we already know everything that we need. The sequence conveys with the opening shot of the skater that this film is about beauty. It commands that we surrender our intellectual endeavors and connect with the film on an emotional level. It is overpowering. Once we are overpowered, there is a cold and disturbing switch to the scene in the field – the only part in the opening sequence with remotely comprehensive dialogue.

We know our main character. We know the illness from which he suffers, yet similarly, we know that he’s free. This is conveyed to us through the contrast of his unconstrained roaming in the grass and strange companionship with the isolated and sheltered way in which his family members are presented. They are each alone. We understand the pregnant woman’s connection to the skater, and we connect to her, although we do not yet know why. She represents to us a similar overpowering beauty. She and Julien are instantly portrayed as the only two aware of such beauty in the world. In comparison to the family, Korine suggests the idea that perhaps Julien’s schitzophrenic state, in the field of grass, is a better option than the bleak world which surrounds him.

Harmony Korine’s strict devotion to the power of image and the stories it can tell pays off in this opening sequence. It establishes a feel that follows throughout the film and leaves us profoundly affected at its close.

Korine was a natural for an experiment in Dogme, he had already developed a hand-held, detached and slightly disturbing style with 1997’s Gummo, and has continued to explore the themes of alienation, isolation and dreamlike sequencing through his other main works, Mister Lonely (2007) and Trash Humpers (2009). Gummo, perhaps Korine’s most seminal and praised work, focuses on several characters in Xenia, Ohio after their town has been devastated by a tornado. Here again we are let in through character and not through narrative. Looking at Gummo, it is clear that Korine is unwaveringly original. What could be attributed to Dogme’s influence in Donkey-Boy, are stylistic choices clearly developed earlier. One could say that by participating in the Movement, Korine was merely exploring and deepening his own technique. At the 2007 Tribeca Film Festival Trash Humpers premier, Korine spoke on this. “I never cared so much about making perfect sense.” He said, “I wanted to make perfect nonsense. I wanted to tell jokes, but I didn’t give a fuck about the punch line.”

Korine must view life in this way – a joke without a punchline. In a way, it describes his work well. Often, Korine’s films leave us to draw our own conclusions. They are abstract “slice-of-life” vignettes, that do not come to any sort of contrived resolution. Frequently a character dies, but that does nothing to tie together story. Instead, it creates new avenues and realizations for other characters, just as in life.

This “perfect nonsense” appeals to some. Korine has often been lauded as a poet and an avant-garde genius. But as critic Roger Ebert points out, his nonsense is not for everyone.  About Donkey-Boy, he said in the Chicago Sun Times that “the odds are good that most people will dislike this film and be offended by it. For others, it will provoke sympathy rather than scorn. You know who you are”. This statement is an excellent encapsulation of Korine’s work. It is by no means perfect, nor does Korine intend it to be. His films have been called “aesthetically lazy,” disturbing and slow paced. For some, these qualities are deal-breakers. For others, it is understood that they are intentional and crucial to Korine’s ultimate impact.

In all of his films, the writer/director focuses on subcultures of society and brings their specific ideals and idiosyncrasies to light. What draws him to these particular groups is hard to tell, but in them he creates beauty from the debased. Korine’s in-depth character studies and personal vignettes create a visceral experience beyond intellectual language. They kidnap you. There is a certain irony in this method. One might think that forcing an audience to engage with a film at an instinctual level would widen the scope of those with whom it connects. On the contrary however, this method seems to alienate and on the whole Korine’s work is left with a very limited following (although a devoted one).

If we have determined that Korine’s work is not alienating in the sense that it is closed off, why then, does it repulse audiences so unfailingly? Perhaps it is because once people are engaged, they do not like what they find. It seems that Korine manages to touch on that delicate “too real” area which causes the revulsion of the “uncanny valley” hypothesis. It is too close to life, with something disturbingly off. The films have the ability to pull you into a wretched, debased world and reveal it with brutal honesty and no consideration for social norms. It is not something most people handle well, and definitely not something most people would consider poetry. And it is because of this often horrific imagery that Korine loses his audience. They fail to see the honesty or brilliance that occurs with the impact of it. This sort of cult standing seems to be the only viable avenue for Korine. It is a fact that he does not write for mass consumption. But when his ideas do hit you, they hit hard.

I ejaculated (It was the most fitting term) the term while I was trying to describe my purpose. The declarations “Angelic Carnage” give the right support flawlessly.

I am here to spread confidence, benevolence, pacification and emotion.
I’m also here to, condemn, prosecute, and end with those same emotions.

I’m here to get rid all of “prejudice”.

Those with a view unopened to other’s expositions will taste the wrath of which is Angelic Carnage.

My blog about the National Post is a concrete example of by what method angelic carnage acts.

Check it out here.

Stay attuned and tighten those strings of yours, Angelic Carnage is becoming viral. Angelic Carnage. My souls’ dharma wheel.
-C.W.S

P.S

Do not let your ego get the best of you.
I m only 21 but please.
Save any comments about age and I know nothing out the window.
Most people I’ve met do not even understand the basic “concept” of “Age”.

Just because a child is 9,
does not mean you need to not consider what they say.
It’s possible for a child to know more about age than the president.
Age is irrelevant.
What is the age of your soul?
If you wish to tell me your soul’s older than mine and I’m wrong. Please, go ahead. I’ll listen to what you have to say.

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I am angelic carnage, I am science fiction.
Angelic carnage is my flex zone, my personal “Zef” – Thank you Die Antwoord

This is wherever my inspiration arrives from. Angelic Carnage is me.

I ejaculated (It was the most fitting term) the term while I was trying to describe my purpose. The declarations “Angelic Carnage” give the right support flawlessly.

I am here to spread confidence, benevolence, pacification and emotion.
I’m also here to, condemn, prosecute, and end with those same emotions.

I’m here to get rid all of “prejudice”.

Those with a view unopened to other’s expositions will taste the wrath of which is Angelic Carnage.

My blog about the National Post is a concrete example of by what method angelic carnage acts.

Check it out here.

Stay attuned and tighten those strings of yours, Angelic Carnage is becoming viral. Angelic Carnage. My souls’ dharma wheel.
-C.W.S

P.S

Do not let your ego get the best of you.
I m only 21 but please.
Save any comments about age and I know nothing out the window.
Most people I’ve met do not even understand the basic “concept” of “Age”.

Just because a child is 9,
does not mean you need to not consider what they say.
It’s possible for a child to know more about age than the president.
Age is irrelevant.
What is the age of your soul?
If you wish to tell me your soul’s older than mine and I’m wrong. Please, go ahead. I’ll listen to what you have to say.

Related articles

• Anglic Carnage
• Stadium Carnage
• Carnage & Borgore – Incredible
• Origin Week Finale: The Four
• Tuesday

“It’s the new frontier,” they say
“It’s wide open, anything can happen”
But you’ve got a lot of nerve
To call yourself a pioneer when you’re too god-damned conservative
To take real chances

Tin-eared
Graph-paper brained accountants
Instead of music fans
Call all the shots at giant record companies now
The lowest common denominator rules
Forget honesty
Forget creativity
The dumbest buy the mostest
That’s the name of the game

But sales are slumping
And no one will say why
Could if be they put out
One too many lousy records?!?

-Dead Kennedys, MTV Get Off the Air (1985)

Rappers are fokking pouring into passenger planes
What happened to all the cool rappers from back in the day?
Now all these rappers sound exactly the same
It’s like one big inbred fuck-fest
Sies
No, I do not want to stop, collaborate or listen

-Die Antwoord, Fatty Boom Boom (2012)

Image courtesy macklemore.com

Image Courtesy Macklemore.com

I don’t listen to rap/hip-hop exclusively or even very frequently.  The artists that I do listen to are Die Antwoord and Macklemore.  Die Antwoord is, as far as I know, the most popular Rap/Rave group from South Africa, a niche that they will have some difficulty being replaced in.  While their unique musical style gets stuck in my head constantly, these days I’ve been listening to more and more Macklemore.

(I had to make that joke, sorry.)

Hailing from, and proud of it, Seattle, WA, Macklemore has been putting out music for the last decade and has been cultivating a large following.  With his most recent single, “Thrift Shop”, Macklemore has skyrocketed from popular underground MC to being at the forefront of viral videos. “Thrift Shop” has been viewed (as of February 19, 2013) more than 112,000,000 times on Youtube.

Without a doubt Macklemore is my favorite rapper.  He speaks to anyone who wants to listen to hip-hop, isn’t afraid to talk about the fact that he’s a white rapper, he’s from Seattle, his opinions on art in our society, and what that means within the music industry.

My first introduction to Macklemore came in my freshman year at Goucher College.  My friend had decided to have a party, and about halfway through, he stopped the music, and turned on “And We Danced”.  Far from the normal samples of Motown songs and positive outlooks on life, “And We Danced” is an anthem for having a fun time that lampoons anthems for having a fun time.  Macklemore isn’t afraid to laugh at himself, and that’s something that is lacking from the music industry.

I listen to music to feel a connection with another person.  The same way that reading a novel can inspire, can evoke emotion, so does music.  Like every musician, Macklemore wants to feel understood, and help others feel the same.  Without lyrics that brag about how rich he is, wants to have sex all the time, or degrade other rappers, Macklemore has climbed the charts to the top.  I can only hope that he stays in the public eye.

Favorite Track: “I Said Hey”