Thursday, December 2, 2010
Macronympha "The Spectacle of Ravishing Our Maidens" CS
Yes! Macro, where to begin. Honestly I'm no expert on the subject, but everything I've been told about Joe and Rodger has been so. fucking. cool. These are BAAADD dudes. I've never heard a Macro album I didn't like, and this one is perhaps not their best, certainly no "Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania," but damn is it good. And not to mention for a 1995 Slaughter Prods. tape it's going for relatively cheap nowadays, which is always a big plus for me. The clear tape, stamped with a slender golden sticker depicting a medieval era torture scene of a guy getting his guts pulled out, has been dropped into an oversized shiny silver bag with the cover art barely glued on (if you have trouble telling from the picture, it's two chicks: one lying down spreading her pussy, while the other girl spreads her pussy and squats over the first). God, Macro makes sex SO unappealing, I'm glad my brain doesn't get off from stuff like that. It's amazing how an image as beautiful as a girl giving another girl head can be made so disgusting by these filthy "musicians." I guess that's the magic. I couldn't really live off of pure filth, though, it's better for me to just visit every now and then for the novelty of it all, but I think I would have a panic attack if my life dissolved into the bleak coldness of Macro's ultra-gritty lifestyle. And on that note, I need to address my thoughts on extramusicality and whether or not it should be such a defining factor in the quality of a band. I am quite vocal on my personal opinions that things such as who made the music, where it was made, conceptual approach, and aesthetic all take a big back seat for me, and when it comes down to it I'm either gonna like something or not based purely on what comes out of the speakers. Often, I prefer to know NOTHING about a band, and just let my imagination run wild and craft the music makers into what I fantasize as my ideal for that particular band, elevating the musicians into an almost supernatural, inhuman state, as if the music simply exists because it exists, it wasn't the work of some average guy. And more times than not my opinion of a band is only marred when I learn more about the musicians behind it. This is not the case with Macro. Yes, their music is amazing on its own, and I would still love it even if I knew absolutely nothing about the redneck retards making it, but in this case, rare for me, the band is seriously elevated by the extramusical elements, particularly the fact that Joe and Rodger are such dirtbag trash heaps. And I think the main reason for this is that it all matches up. The artists are sleazy and gritty. The song titles and artwork are sleazy and gritty. The music is sleazy and gritty. It all comes together so fluidly and completely. And it's so fucking dark. The whole package screams out "mentally sick" in a really messed up and disturbing way. It's not, "my mind is sick because I get depressed and have ADHD," it's more like "my mind is sick because I like raping animals." One of the song titles on this tape is called "Having Sex With Mother." Fucking scum low-lifes. Well, I don't know them personally, so I can't really confirm what I'm saying is 100% true, and I do enjoy exaggerating, but we've all read the Banana Fish interview and we all kind of get the gist, right? I remember when my friend first showed me that interview and I thought, "Holy fuck, are these people real? I don't even want to get near them." I'll never forget the first thing he said to me when he described Macro to me for the first time, and it was something along the lines of "Dingbats making incredible music." It's so true, and it's a goddamn confusing miracle of nature that these people make such good HN. Compare it to the other giants, Masonna and K2, people who are clearly intelligent, artistic-minded folk, and somehow you're still getting the same degree of quality. Maybe it's the grit and grime and harshness so intertwined into the Macro lifestyle that gave them the boost and translated so well into their sound, or maybe under all the drug-addiction and apathy there lies a pair of geniuses, but I have a strong feeling the latter can't really be true. But with song titles like "Golden Haired Thrash Fuck," it's hard to imagine that there was really much of a planned out, art-faggy approach to this band. I think ultimately they just love the dirt and bathe themselves in it, and what you get is a peek inside the mind of someone who has the potential to kill you, rape your dead body, and then proceed to go out and score some dope like nothing happened.