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Unwashed, matted hair and a rumpled dress suit could just be Williamsburg chic. Then again, if they pick up a stone cross, pull it straight outta the ground, and start chasin' your ass, it's probably time to go.
Thanks to Jeff Mullan for filling in for The Castle last week. It doesn't happen too often that I miss a show, but it's nice, and preferred, as Pseu would say, to have "quality coverage" in one's absence. So how did he do? ... "Betta," you say? Fuck all y'all. He he he. This week, back to business as usual, with viciousness and a vengeance, for no particular reason other than that when I do miss a week, I really miss it, feeling it in body and mind. Plannin' and plannin' I was. Then, mid-week, a surprise—an excellent packet of materials from the mighty, mighty Universal Consciousness label, which ended up dominating the weekly horrorcast™, with more yet to come next week. Also in the mix, some odd and engaging contributions from the No Visible Scars label, oh hell yeah. More of those next week as well.
So, the notices, and aplenty they were; Cult of Daath, Akitsa, the new Hive Mind long player on Spectrum Spools, Glass Coffin, and the Moonknight tape (one of the UC releases.) I have to assume, though, that you liked it all, as I did for sure, and me with a week off between shows is some serious fuel to the fire. Fuel to the fire, young men and ladies. And still, like most weeks, I could have easily gone another hour. I blame (read: attribute) the show's sonic success to this being perhaps the best time in history for underground music, metal and noise, etc. It's a great time, and all I need to do is have my antennae set on high/receive. It's that easy, America. My filter, applied to the wealth of great, new sounds, and bang!—it's another Castle to remember. And if this reeks of arrogance, I sort of apologize, though not really, as I can feel the radio show experiencing positive growth by the week, and you,the listeners, are a huge part of this, otherwise I'd be able to voluntarily dislocate my shoulder from constantly patting myself on the back.
You spread praise like soft butter on a hot bagel, and you keep me humble when necessary. You are the zombies in my purgatory, just hangin' out. When I transition from metal to noise, or back, however abruptly or gradually, you are there. I salute you, the music makers and the music listeners (sometimes one in the same), for helping me to continue to build My Castle of Quiet into something of note, and value.
Click on that very able-bodied undead, up at the top, to reach the playlist and audio archives of this week's program.
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