Legendary in the underground for more than a decade, the controversial novel is now in print.
Sentient meat covers the world. Veins fill the bloodred sky. People transform into monsters called the Slime. Mind Quakes alter people’s consciousnesses. For That What, your typical gumshoe, the world provides more than enough work—until he’s infected with the slime.
While he struggles to come to terms with his inevitable transformation, he takes on one last job: a murder mystery with ties to the mythical King of the Slime. Finding an unlikely ally in Tonakga, a human-reptile hybrid, That races to solve the case—and to uncover the truth about the King of the Slime, who might hold the cure to his disease.
Blending pulp detective novels, surrealism, and experimental fiction, “Dig the Meat Music” is equal parts burlesque, noir thriller, experimental novel, and social commentary.
In my later teens, I happened across John Coltrane’s album Interstellar Space while sifting through neat rows of CD jewel cases in a Half-Priced Books. I almost couldn’t believe my luck. At that time, I was in the red-hot middle of an infatuation with the Beat Generation and everything that typically comes with it: books, booze, and jazz. I was devoted to Coltrane since discovering Blue Train, but fell in love for life after hearing A Love Supreme. I had read somewhere (probably Amazon, a site to which I owe the overwhelming bulk of my musical education) that A Love Supreme marks the borderlands between Coltrane’s early accessible productions and his mysterious, “later” phase. Interstellar Space was firmly in this “later” period and appended with an even more mysterious and enticing label: “avant-garde.” (more…)
There’s dark music and then there’s dark music. When dark music is brought up in a conventional setting, it’s safe to assume that albums like Depeche Mode’s “Violator” (1990) or Nine Inch Nails’ “The Downward Spiral” (1994) are on the table. Both albums are fantastic, as far as I’m concerned, and more than a little dark against the anachronistic background of the blithe, #YOLO culture of the post-millennium. But this is not a conventional setting and albums like these are definitely not on the table (although it is not uncommon to see them in a lot of half-assed “Darkest Albums of All Time” lists scattered in handfuls across the Internet). I am here to discuss truly dark music. The albums you will find on this list are so bleak that you can’t “rock out” to them (with, perhaps, a few exceptions, if you radically expand the common definition of “rocking out”). You won’t find yourself tapping your feet or humming along at any point along this dreary little journey. My pet theory, in fact, is that you won’t be able to tolerate even half of this list without having experienced a clinical depression at some point in your life (I’m dead serious about that). If you’re asking yourself why anyone would want to listen to music like this –a fair question, certainly–then these albums probably aren’t for you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t learn anything from reading about them.
I discovered most of these albums myself while in the pits of one period of depression or another. I’ve tried many things to take the searing edge off these downer periods. Two things work (or help, rather) without adverse effects: reading depressing books and listening to depressing music. It’s strange but true–these bleak, existentially horrific albums are like a dark balm that cauterizes gashes in a bleeding soul with a blast of hell-frost. Nevertheless, I don’t want to focus on their pragmatic applications (such a gauche and debased approach to art could not be further from my intents, even if such writing is still accepted in academia as legitimate criticism). Above all, these albums are works of art and will be treated as such here. Before we begin, however, I need to get a few disclaimers out of the way:
I don’t focus primarily on lyrics, as most “Darkest Albums” lists do (if you are interested in dark lyrics, there are a surplus of readily accessible lists out there that include albums by bands like Radiohead and Coldplay based on their lyrical content). My criteria for darkness is a gestalt approach. I consider each album’s pervading atmosphere, which does include lyrical content, but as dynamic element no more separable from the overall effect than would be rhythm or melody. In my opinion, song lyrics are not poetry. They simply can’t be extracted from their musical delivery and considered independently. (more…)