Blood intoxication. Drunk on spirits (the distilled kind, and the kind that fly), and most importantly, the intoxication and envelopment of the pure essence of blackness, i.e., the complete absence of light. LIGHT REMOVAL. Drunk on T.O.M.B., for fuck's sake! There is great power and catharsis in a performance of both high volume and great might, and T.O.M.B. smeared the walls with cemetery slime, and scared EVEN ME. To be so close to something so loud and so unpredictable; I felt like Herbert West, having invited and unleashed forces I now could not control. True potency in the darkness.
Coré is at her most ecstatic. She listens to the young man's bubbly last breaths as though they were hushed confessions, sweet nothings. Perfect adoration, perfect lust. Satiated and sanguine. I wouldn't trust Coré to do a thing, personally. I like a good shag as much -or more- than the next guy, but this one will be your last. YOU may CHOOSE to follow this delicious siren, if you wish, to the playlist and streaming audio archive of last night's horrorcast™.
T.O.M.B.'s set, in all its mastery, will post in mp3 form next week to WFMU's Free Music Archive and Beware of The Blog. Also check out my curator portal at the FMA, if so inclined.
What else got high marks? That new Jon Mueller & Z'ev LP on Important, and the M.B. archive CD on AWWFN. These, and shochu on the rocks.