ladyislingering

This might be more fun for those of us who are natural writers, but everyone is welcome.

Imagine one (or more) of your favorite albums as its own world, with its own people and its own atmosphere. What's in it? What does it look like? Who are its inhabitants and how do they behave? Has it had an interesting history?

First, state the album.

Then tell us all about the world hidden within its grooves.

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Janszoon

Earth—Hex; Or Printing in the Infernal Method
This album is a world of open spaces, constant wind and bone-chilling cold. The trees are bare and the grass is dead. Gaunt, solitary figures drift through this landscape on horseback, just barely surviving. There were great gods here once who brought bountiful crops and game and the warmth of the summer sun, but they fell into a terminal slumber many generations ago and without them all has become brittle and spent.

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A Night in the Life of the Invisible Man

Time & Place

25 Albums You Should Hear Before the Moon Crashes into the Earth and We All Die

last.fm

Machine

Oh goodness gravy this thread is going to be good!

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boost my ego

listen to me stroke my delay pedal

ever wanted to hear death grips songs... but they're acoustic? me neither.

Pet_Sounds

Brilliant idea. I promise to contribute something tomorrow…

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Everybody's dying just to get the disease

Isbjørn

Cool, I'll see if I can contribute.

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Pet_Sounds

It's not my favourite album. It's not even one of my top ten favourite albums. But it lends itself so perfectly to this discussion that I had to write about it.

It's a magic carpet ride through another time and space, where unknown colours, scents, and sounds abound. There are no duties to be fulfilled, no destinations to achieve--just a gentle flow of ethereal music, which can be felt, smelt, and tasted. It's like a river; you just relax and let the music wash over you, carrying you downstream.

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Everybody's dying just to get the disease

grindy

I often imagine the rockier Keiji Hano albums to be a giant dark dripping room, where a humongous dead shark lies on the floor. The physical properties of said room are such that you can grab the shark by its tail and effortlesly slam it against the walls, floor and ceiling with incredible power and spine-tingling satisfaction.
There's nothing else in this world, just you, the dead shark, the room and this incredible, satisfying power.

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A smell of petroleum prevails throughout.

Frownland

Trout Mask Replica

A massive ballroom with Howlin' Wolf, John Coltrane, and Robert Johnson barely making their way through an acid trip as they smoke cigarettes in the centre. The walls are lined with fractal mirrors that seem to multiply the world about you. When you peer into one of the mirrors, you realize that these aren't mirrors, but looking-glasses into another world. One mirror shows a dark world full of brooding folk who don't look each other in the eye, while the mirror opposite that one reveals a terrifying world of shit-eating grins, men standing by other men without an ego flying, and the like. In another, Jesus Christ is peering back at you as he twirls around in his pretty dress. One mirror shows homeless men, teetering at the edge of a river and another stuck in a well. One of the men at the river laments to each woman who passes by about his long lost daughter. A lot of the other mirrors are just strange alien figures having sex. You get tired of Howlin' Wolf trying to describe what he's seeing while Coltrane and Johnson break their instruments, and you decide to leave. A month later, you come by again with the same result. Another night, after indulging in smoke and drink, you return and it quickly becomes your favourite place. You live there now, babbling back at Howlin' Wolf and scaring passersby.

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Studies show that when a given norm is changed in the face of the unchanging, the remaining contradictions will parallel the truth.

EPOCH6

CONAN - BLOOD EAGLE



A dense and humid blanket of thick fog crawls upon a barren rocky mountain range. From a distant peak you're looking onward, trying to make out the details, but the fog is too thick to decipher the surroundings. You can hear distant clamor below you, growing in intensity, a bellowing conflict of hundreds punctuated by the voice of a powerful commanding figure. The sound of collapsing stone structures echoes throughout the valley walls and your anxiety swells, fueled by an ignorance of the events occurring beyond the fog's horizon. The knot in your stomach tightens, you know that you're witnessing an unimaginable tragedy but you'll never be able to put it into words. This will reside in your mind forever, like a nightmare whose details you've long forgotten, but the feeling in your gut never changes.

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Rexx Shredd

Front Line Assembly - Tactical Neural Implant


This world is a dark metal-skinned horror, the blackness occasionally punctuated by reddish hues of molten metal or newly forged steel. The metallic skeleton is the framework of one continuous structure that stretches from horizon to horizon. There are countless miles of cable interwoven between the girders of infrastructure and innumerable computer monitors, casting only the barest light from the coded lines of undecipherable data, stipple the tortured exoskeleton with a cold purpose..........The denizens of this world, its atmosphere dank with the smell of cordite and artificially produced gasses, are cyborg - half human/ half machine........ They strive for their humanity....and fail

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OK :)

URBAN SHOKKER -- Old School P-Funk Style FUNK -- out NOW on Carbon 12 Records