SONG OF THE DAY: Mundian To Bach Ke (kudzu'd)

I have compiled 99 Problems With Jay-Z (because I am a bitch), and one of them is the remix of this song which Jay-Z polluted with weak ass ad-libs and his lethargic “clever guy who had a stroke” lyricism. He was always a biter of styles, and then later a co-opter of flavors, which of course makes sense he would become a billionaire capitalist for exploiting the creative labor of others into his own impossibly vast abstract wealth. Please note, he did not become a billionaire for his own record sales, so don’t act like pointing out a wack ass throwback jam or two from your younger days is meritocratic proof of his billionairessness. If that was the case, Big Daddy Kane would be rich as Musk right now.
Anyways, with this song specifically, it’s good to have the 45 to play slow, because even crawling, this beat is bonkers. And Panjabi MC rides it appropriately, like on a barely holding together motorbike, pushing the limits of the throttle, but slowing down for dirt road curves, sliding into the next stretch… there is a psychology to this shit that Jay-Z missed entirely. He was just excited to stumble down the same beat and pretend he had something to do with it, like all fat pocketed empty soul successful capitalists. You know this motherfucker has a Basquiat painting nobody ever saw, and he bragged about it? Why would you brag about that shit? I hope the ghost of Rammellzee torments him every night in this sleep, and has him seeing the Shadow People hovering over his triple king bed.

TH3 D14SP0R4 0F H0P3...

the diaspora of hope 
sows itself in untended 
margins, for future harvest 

C0MPL1C4T1NG TH3 FVTVR3...

complicating the future 
conceals simple truth within 
infinite obsolescence 

R3G4RDL3SS 0F H0W B4R3LY...

regardless of how barely 
held together all things are, 
this Universe yields futures 

SONG OF THE DAY: Fairchild

Willie West’s “Fairchild” is so damn funky, a song written by the Southern Gothicc Futurist wizard Allen Toussaint, which when combined with West’s impeccably crossroads-ish smooth vocal stylings, it was an immense force, albeit not one which reached the popular masses after Josie Records released it in 1970. In fact, the hauntingly funky beat of “Fairchild” was unfairly categorized as a threat to social stability, and used to pass draconian anti-funk laws throughout the South, from eastern Texas through northern Florida, and all the way up into Central Appalachia, as far north as Kentucky and West Virginia. The government was afraid of mystical funk. Most of this was repealed and came undone, culminating in another Toussaint song channeling of the Universal Mystics, “Southern Nights”, being re-recorded in a far less metaphysical manner, and popularizing a more vanilla funk behind Glen Campbell’s cover. Once they’d added 3 tablespoons of vanilla to the raw funk, it lost enough of its drunken universal magnetics that we could all have it again. But if you put the breakbeat of “Fairchild” on loop (as much of it as you wanna consider a breakbeat) during a new moon, and light colored candles to the four directions (purple to the south, orange to the north, green to the west, and a golden one to the east), that raw funk is opened up even more than a normal ear hears. This is a version of high fidelity involving deep metaphysics, which Toussaint was a clairvoyant for, though our consumer society makes you think “high fidelity” requires expensive stereo equipment. Willie West, too, was a clairvoyant for these deep metaphysics, which is how he recorded “The Devil Gives Me Everything (Except What I Need)” later in life.

SONG OF THE DAY: As I Wander, I Will Ponder

It ain’t really a wasteland so much as a wasteful land, but I’m wandering it, with an 8 of Clubs on my mind, thinking about the cycles of building and destroying and how what’s old is seen as inferior because we’ve been enculturated to expect virginal consumer experiences, which ain’t realistic at all. And then instead of the better aspects of old ways being cultivated, we fetishize old consumer items, the “vintage” craze, which is a liberal bourgeoisie version of MAGA, with a hefty price tag, even though all these rare finds came from an abandoned life. We don’t need to save garments; we need to save our ways, performatively fermenting 7 flavors of spirituality without once tossing salt to protect against demons, so nothing that feels real to our heart and gut ever actually proliferates. Even if the smoke is everywhere, and it feels as if our collective trajectory is unbearable, you still gotta ponder a future, where hearts like yours can still beat along, hoping to make a peaceful pace.

SONG OF THE DAY: Funky Honky

This song does not exist on 45, sadly. We can’t have nothing nice.

SONG OF THE DAY: Glad Tidings

I bring you glad tidings of the beginning of the end of this false age of hyper-awareness and hyper-productivity and hyper-speed expectations of the human mind. The wind chimes of destiny should be all you hear once the outage has spread through enough machines to silence the white noise we've pretended was progress towards utopia all this time. Do not be afraid, though I know many of us will be, with real questions about the logistics of post-epoch distribution of survival ingredients. Have faith in the Universe, as well as all the wonderful humans already blessed with universal magnetism that have been silenced by all the buzzing we were trained to believe was comforting. The men who have led us led us astray, way further back down the line than most of us realize. It's okay though, because the Universe always recalibrates into balance. The Earth is only a small piece of the Universe, but it too can recalibrate if allowed to. Man is only a small piece of the Earth, and we too can recalibrate if we let ourselves. But we are also a small enough piece that if we don't let ourselves, we're expendable, in order for balance to be maintained. Let's hope our egos don't get in the way and we continue to claim a false dominion over all the we are able to sense.

SONG OF THE DAY: Surreal

The wonderful thing about music on Earth is it’s so vast, you can’t possibly know it all. There’s always amazing shit out there to find out about. I never really consciously knew about João Donato, the Brazilian multi-instrumentalist. I’m guessing that despite that, I’d heard him on songs before, being he played with so many jazz heavyweights, like Cal Tjader, Mongo Santamria, and others. But he has a vast discography from Brazil, and for whatever reason, I downloaded this album he made with his son, Donatinho. Actually, I’m pretty confident the reason I downloaded it was because I saw it on a music blog (I’m one of the 19 people that still goes to those) with this album cover, which might be the most amazing father/son art I’ve ever seen. I DREAM of being the kind of father where my children would think art like this portrays our relationship. It was a surprise banger on my old iphone 5s working as an ipod in the past year, as I’ve gotten more and more into synthesized funk chaos to combat the AI cybertron battles with (as a soundtrack). “Surreal” is probably my favorite track. And apparently, it exists on a 45 from Japan, but I haven’t found an affordable copy as of yet. But one day, I will.
Sadly Donato passed away last summer, at the well-earned age of 88. That also means he was in his early 80s when he made this album with his son, which is also something to aspire to as a human being. We need less weird 80-something billionaires who want to control presidents to stifle current generations, and more weird 80-something kooks making space funk for future generations. That’s just textbook Futurism 101.

SONG OF THE DAY: I Wanna Say I Love You

Ain’t nearly enough love in the world, at least not the one I’m seeing. Maybe it’s my fault and I’m entrusting my time with the wrong circles. Gotta re-tune my vibrations, not to blind oblivious positivity, because you gotta acknowledge all the fucked up going on in order to hope to create a better version of life that doesn’t have so many suffering in their existence. But even if you acknowledge the fucked, you gotta keep your vibrations attuned to love and hope. I got a good dear friend, who’s been battling various illnesses for a while, and they’re one of the strongest people I know, not like in fists in your face type strong, but biggest heart acting in the world with the intent of that heart type strong. Standing up to things that will kill you because they need standing up to type strong. Anyways, they sent me a haiku about how if we lose hope, our ancestors survived for nothing. I think about that shit all the time. Without hope, it truly is end times. And without love, you can’t have hope.

SONG OF THE DAY: Oye Como Va (kudzu'd)

Southern Gothicc Futurism is the philosophy I live by. I don't exactly call it mine because I don't know how it came to be inside my mind enough to say I own it. But it's there. I've been writing on this blog for well over 15 years (probably longer). I also have a patreon, where Southern Gothicc Futurism is developed more fully, and where you can support me in cultivating that as well as all my fucked up arts. I even have a public samples link for you to get a taste of the patreon outside the paywall. I hate paywall. I hate walls. I hate money. But the society I am forced to navigate is full of bills and walls and all that shit. I'm doing the best I can.

SONG OF THE DAY: Mundian To Bach Ke (kudzu'd)

This song is perhaps the most wonderful song of the past 30 years, and the bizarre mix of culture that happens in post-hip hop world. Bassline and beat for an old Busta Rhymes song jacking sounds from the Knight Rider TV show, mixed into a new beat with heavy use of bhangra music by an British producer of Indian descent, so vocals are a Punjabi artist. That then slowed down, perhaps antithetical to the hypeness, but it unlocks clangier funk imo. People complain about there being no new music to do, or that sampling is stealing, but honestly the copyright laws that got enforced so that people couldn’t sample intricately and instead had to pay exorbitant prices for samples meant they were forced by legalities to sample more simplistically. We could’ve had weavers of wild style vibes running rampant the past 20 years, but nah, culture had to shut that shit down, due to legal reasons all based around somebody owning snippets of sound from the past (often times not even the artists who made the sounds). But the law can’t keep up with everything and chaos engineers are still out there, cooking up mad wild style shit all over, copyrights be damned. I guess it makes sense that my 45 copy of this song is some sort of probably not entirely legal bootleg reissue, too. Bootlegging is a greater Appalachian tradition anyways.

SONG OF THE DAY: Super Duper Rescue Allstars

Pretty solid combination of band name and song title going on here.

SONG OF THE DAY: Rainy Night in Georgia

Listening to Tony Joe White on John Brown’s birthday, contemplating how to be a better race traitor.

SONG OF THE DAY: It's a New Day

I was looking for my Sun Ra poetry book to read his words over the next DJ Honeysuckle Vines mixtape, but I couldn’t find it (naturally) not because my house is a chaotic mess but because obviously it wasn’t the right time in the eyes of the Universe for me to read Sun Ra words over a loop of a slowed down breakbeat 45 of Vaughn Mason’s “Bounce, Rock, Skate, Roll”. The Universe has a way (The Way) of making things happen the way (The Way) they’re supposed to. But while I was looking, I got lost in this chain of thoughts about how Sun Ra always said “the days after the end of time” because Armageddon is only real if you’re attached to the way things are now. And then in my mind, right after that was Flavor Flav going, “Armageddon’s cold been in effect… go get your late pass.”
I talk at Southern Gothicc Futurist events about what southern gothicc futurism means, and a key foundation is how the south has brown (indigenous Americans), black (African heritage), and white (European heritage) in abundance living in proximity with each other which can recreate the old historical tradition of “tri-racial isolates” where those three heritages wandered off together and had communities separate from the colonial experiment. In fact, I got to thinking how even considering being white a heritage is a mistake, because anybody who is considered white had a heritage from before that, which likely had more ancient traditions than this 1950s housewife tradwive bullshit is. In order to become white, you have to abandon all other heritages and get bleached into the heritage-less tradition of consumerism, where you just buy new shit all the time to maintain your identity. And that’s the system we live under currently, but also it’s unsustainable as fuck, which is why they have police state trying to enforce us following it as closely as possible. And that’s the reality of this system, so you (if you are “white”) can’t sit in a room full of POC and say, “I’m not really white, I’m Celtic-American” or some shit. But you can (and should) commit race treason as often as possible when in circles of other white folks. Race treason is your obligation, in fact, as a good and decent human being.
Tri-racial isolates were mostly trying to hide out from the vengeful expansion of colonialism back in the day, basically just being like, “look, just leave us the fuck alone and let us be; we don’t want nothing to do with your shit.” I look forward to what’s next, after the end of times, to replace the unsustainable ways we currently consider normalcy, and how it will hopefully be a post-Apocalyptic form of tri-racial isolationism, where isolate means living with your corner of the world as opposed to globalism rather than purposefully hiding from anything else. An isolationism where you limit the greedy expansion of yourself is not a bad thing.
Anyways, these were my thoughts as I was rummaging around trying to find the Sun Ra poetry book I couldn’t find, which I know the Universe stashed somewhere just right for me to find later, like 9 mixtapes into the future, when it’s more important and necessary for me to be reading Sun Ra words over top that Vaughn Mason bootleg breakbeat 45. Hopefully, the “It’s a New Day” 45 I got will be here by then and I can throw that in the mix right after, and call the mixtape It’s a New Day. But maybe I won’t. It’s certainly a good anthem to slow down and refrain and loop and echo through a listening person’s mind as words of post-Apocalyptic encouragement to embrace continue walking into the future, but at a lackadaisical pace, so that you can look around and enjoy the walk more fully.

a freestyle sonnet about not knowing things

While navigating these empirical declines, 
obstacles become common as things fall apart. 
We haven’t gone back to start just because the shine’s 
worn off civilized arc; seems we’ve mistaken smart 

for acting without heart. We can’t recalibrate 
as we ain’t machines, but organisms living 
within larger scheme… nature itself and state 
of man aren’t at war; Earth is far more forgiving 

than given scientific credit for being. 
Body’s plasticity of silent self-repair’s 
eternal, in single cell microscope’s seeing, 
as well as whole of shared universal affairs. 

Our “intelligence” ain’t needed to make things right; 
it’s best to follow signs the conscious mind can’t cite. 

SONG OF THE DAY: On and On Infinite P Remix

I was thinking about how Erykah Badu was gonna make a perfume that smelled like her cooch, and how weird it was that people thought that was so weird. She should’ve made it a cologne in my opinion. Y’all are so fuckin’ uptight.

SONG OF THE DAY: Space

Bums me out that futuristic visions always have to be highly technological and flying through space and shit. Southern gothicc futurism is firmly based on the historical precedence of tri-racial isolationism, hopefully somewhere where there’s mountains and sea, definitely rivers, and that can be anywhere in space. But it also has to be somewhere, like early American swampland, seen as not having value, so all the assholes go away. Although I guess they never go all the way away.

SONG OF THE DAY: Thee Prayer

Was talking about praying in space today in the ol’ dorkball groupchat. That’s the kind of times we live in.

SONG OF THE DAY: Telling You The Future

Mostly when we think of “futuristic”, we think of flying cars and robot highways and shit like that… all very shiny and stainless steel and space age if “space” age means exploring external space as far as possible. But I don’t know, there’s a lot to see already within the small corners of the Earth (which are never actual corners) that we overlook because we get those big global eyeballs and miss all the beautifully woven details to our lives. I’d hope the actual “futuristic” my great grandchildren gets to see has more sitting on a rock by the river than rocket ships to other planets. I mean, for most of us, they’re not gonna let us go into space except as servants anyways, so why the fuck bother? Stay here, sit by the river, listen to the ripples and not give a fuck about all that other “we need to do” ass stuff. Progress is a myth. And if you think of the moral arc of the universe as a rainbow, it’s just bending back down to where it started, so might as well keep it caveman simple. That’s why I do paintings on all the walls of my house.