keskiviikko 26. joulukuuta 2012

Music & Mortality

Making music is enough to make any person humble. I really can't understand the sort of rock'n'roll star- state of mind, where music is just an excuse to escape your dayjob as an accountant and where the songs are just meaningless cliches piled on top of each other and glued together with hi-fi production. To me making music is taking a trip of some sort, it's tripping in your own subconscious and exploring your roots, and getting to know yourself. It's an on-going quest, I am in search of my Self, so that when I find and am able to name all the things that define and form my Self, I can leave them all behind and therefore annihilate my Self. To get rid of it completely. And why do I need to take this trip, why do I need to annihilate my Self? Only because of the fact, that I am too in love with this consciousness, that explores this world and experiences it every moment. I would be more than happy to continue this existence well beyond the approximate of 70 years we are given on this planet, I would be happy to go on until time loses it's meaning and we are all back to square one with our universe, just keep on observing this world and it's inhabitants.

I need to understand the essence of myself, I need to become selfless, to make the dying easier. I can not accept death as this being that I am. I love life too much. I hate this world on most accounts, but I love life, and I love every living thing on this planet, and all the lifeless things maybe even more. Music, arts, science, culture, everything we have achieved as species, the picture we have painted as a whole about mortality and humanity, all the great works of art and all this life that surrounds it. It is just amazing, to begin with. And it all affects you, everything you see, you automatically learn, you absorb it and rebuild it in a completely different form. It is what being me actually is, building different images from the same figures and forms we all have. When I make music, I get closer to the pure flow of "things". There just is the endless stream of visions that become sounds. We we're talking about this with our drummer last night. When someone else hears your song, he or she takes a look in your family photo album. It's all there in the song. You having a letter of rejection from a job or school you really wanted, getting laid, going through a difficult relationship, death, whatever. It's all there, But what the person sees, is just a single snapshot of that certain day that certain song was made. That is why albums, in my opinion, are called albums in the first place. They contain various snapshots from your life. In that essence, these two albums I will link (again, I know) are not albums, since I did both of them last week. They are merely the subconscious gone wild, without suppression of any kind, meant to inspire someone to make something with these same building blocks. I hope someone somewhere out there can relate to any bit of this, it is not easy listening, it is meditational, acoustic drone, or something like that. If you can make something out of it, I'd be more than glad to see what it made you do. Anytime in the future.

lauantai 15. joulukuuta 2012

The Spiral

<iframe width="400" height="100" style="position: relative; display: block; width: 400px; height: 100px;" src="" allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0"><a href="">Darkness Infused In Light (The Spiral) by J. Kill &amp; Starvation Army Band</a></iframe>

I made a new record, which has nothing to do with Cut To Fit. It is just my own stuff, I have made everything by myself, as always. This is not song-oriented music, it is an complete album, which is meant to inspire some sort of visions in the listener, pushing one towards the act of creating something. So listen to it high on drugs, meditating, drawing, paintin, making music, whatever it is you do to get off. If you download the album, you get a PDF booklet with the album art that inspired this music. It can also be found at:


torstai 22. marraskuuta 2012

Imagine all the possibilities... entangled, and as one, wuhuuuuuuu.

I am not a scientist. If something, I am an artist who craves for knowledge and understanding. If anything I write is wrong merely because of my limited understanding has misinterpreted something that is common knowledge, by all means, let me know, but besides that I keep myself the liberty of letting my mind soar free with the imagination.

I have been reading different theories about time and space and gravity as parts of infinity all afternoon, so I'm not sure how far off this writing thing will shoot me this time. The world that Big Bang created, is just one possibility, one world, one reality, that aligned itself along the guidelines of gravity, time and space. It let the time happen in some sort of space, and it let the space to move and evolve in time, from simple singularity towards the chaos of reality. The chaos keeps getting even more chaotic with ever fastening speed, and this is the place that we call home, the place we try to examine and understand, although we know it is just a facade of experiences entangled with algorithms that guide these experiences and give them proofs of themselves being the rules that this world is based on. The light reflects and the sound echoes, and so on. But if these signals were false or disfigured to begin with, what knowledge we would be left with? nothing. That is why we have science and logic, to concentrate on this world, and not have high hopes of any other possibilities. It's all the same if they exist or not, if we are never able to reach it.

But human mind in itself is the most beautiful and absurd thing. Within our heads everysingle one of us carries all that it takes to create new universes: imagination. Human brains have come up with endless amounts of different theories about pretty much everything there is to think, but what to me is more interesting is our capacity to literally create worlds out of nothing. Literature, music, arts, everything we have come up with, is just our collective sub-conscious, our experiences and thoughts expressed in a certain way to weave a cloth of mankind's essence, it's soul. Through this, we have done some beautiful and destructive things, but they all have given us progress, they all, in their own way take us forward towards something new, it too evolves from simple to more chaotic, expanding and complicating itself with fastening speed. It is incredible to think about it, and it seems that the powers of imagination are pretty much infinite. One might argue, that this sort of non-existent "reality" is not reality, and he might be exactly true, but one must also keep in mind, that our reality in all it's "realness" is not that stable thing either. The deeper inside everything we go, the more unstable it gets, and it's in constant change, nothing acutally "is" still and solid in this universe of ours. That is why practically all the real and unreal things always exist in the same level, somewhere. In inifinity every possible solution is created infinite amount of times. There is infinite "you"s and infinite "me"s somewhere.

I, in my own little head, have often contemplated the possibility of every black hole in every universe actually creating another universe "somewhere else". Like throwing rock to water, once it disappears under the surface, accompanied with a sort of SPLASH!, it is gone from the reality we percieve with our sight, but very existent under the surface of water. This made me think about the stars collapsing into themselves with a splash, disappearing from our world, sucking matter in their whirlpool, but actually blasting a completely new universe on the other side of the fabric of time and space, which to my understanding has been declared to be nearly flat. This may seem a bit complicated, but try to image flat surfaces, that face each other in different angles, and all the universum start from the point these flat surfaces cut each other, which is the black hole. This way, the endless amounts of worlds, would be all linked to each other, but impossible to enter from one another, because they are not the same sort of realities. Little by little this multiverse creates a fabric, that links every possibility to every other possibility, creating something, that becomes infinity, but still there is the problem of infinity outside this sort of fabric. Because if it would exist the way I imagine it, there still would be some sort of time-space-thing outside this multiverse. These, to my little, non-expanded sober mind are intriguing and interesting puzzles, and this is how I spend most of my days. Just wanted to let you have a glimpse to my imagination.

perjantai 16. marraskuuta 2012

About information and arguing.

The war on the internet, which is something I wrote on the Havoc Supreme, always gets me. I know it gets to everyone, and everyone gets involved and starts fighting over something they did not give a shit about, but which suddenly grew into huge proportions, because someone else disagreed with your views about how the completely irrelevant thing is. I stay away from all places, that could agitate me to become an ape with a keyboard, because I think provocation for the sake of provocation is nothing but childish war over semantics, to fight over the words you want to use, instead of the words others want to use.

The always entertaining Atheism vs. Religion. I don't want anyone to get anything wrong. I am an atheist. My philosophy has something to do with zen-buddhism, it aims to attain new knowledge, to reach out and to be honest to yourself, admit when you are wrong, and to become a better person, because, as Aldous Huxley said, intelligence and knowledge without good will and charity is cold and inhumane, whereas good will and charity without intelligence to guide them is impotent or misguided. The two must go together, to have intelligent and humane people roaming around the world. In this time and age, the both are as separate as always.

I have ranted about religion and science-war before, and without a doubt I will in future too. I just want it to be fair and honest on all sides, since usually the internet atheists are ignorant towards any sign of empathy they could show towards their "enemies" in this war. Other thing is the usual phrase about how no one has ever been killed in the name of atheism, whereas christianity got hundreds of thousands, or millions of people killed. Well, what about Soviet Union, which was an atheist state, and systematically persecuted religions, in the name of atheism? I heard the counter-argument, that stalinism had nothing to do with atheism, but to be precise, Soviet Union had less to do with communism, than it did with atheism, and still the end defines the reasons of the means. So, as long as we like to stay in the world of facts and what really happened, atheism did get people killed. Whether you embrace the fact or ignore it, is a personal choice, and a question of belief. If you choose to ignore this argument, you can't help letting yourself quite vulnerable to being dragged out to the same pyre as the religious folk, who just seem to have the Reader's Digest of the world's history in their hands.

The knife will always be sharp, no matter what you cut. The facts and information does not cease to exist if you don't like it. Pillaging and ripping throats open was not that crucial part of Christianity, before the Romans got the hold of it, their religion needed to be person-cult, and it needed to have an agenda to spread, so that they could take their borders even further on. After that, it has been more or less a massacre. We can fight over who has slaughtered more idle by-standers, or we can try to achieve some sort of understanding and mutual acceptance, a victory over common internet-babooning. So let's go back to our chambers, whip some humility to our pose and try to get along..

lauantai 10. marraskuuta 2012

Minor Friction.

This text will be just one opinion, just one young and foolish man's writing about a country, that has a great history, great traditions, great people, but maybe not so great system after all. This is my experience of UK by far. I have been here now for 5 weeks, and I've been granted many opportunities to observe how this system runs in a grass-root level, how do people encounter eachother and how does this Orwellian theme park actually function. My time here has been on the other hand very relaxing, happy, and inspiring. It is because people are nice, kind and helpful towards strangers. The problem is, they tend to be snakes to the ones they know. I could not ever blame them, during my stay the CCTV's have made me paranoid and delusional. They don't make me feel safe at all, they make me feel like I am constantly under surveillence. And I have nothing to hide, nothing to fear, no reason at all to feel this way.

It seems like everyone in here have a solicitor of their own, they need to have, because everyone else has. It's an all-out war, all against all, fought in courts with suits and lies and statements and eyewitnesses. This has made all the companies paranoid, they need to give you safety regulations for everything, they have signs for wet floors, stairs, tables, it seems like it's a huge nursery home for adult babies who can't figure most of this shit out or else they get hurt, and the first thing they do when they do get hurt, would be calling solicitor, instead of thinking is it really necessary. Social services seem to be as dysfunctional, as they are everywhere, blind to the actual suffering of real individuals.

It is sometimes really hard to walk here, on the probably most secure island in the world (if you leave prison-islands, and possible secret war-laboratories out of count) and think about how the empire that spawned George Orwell can't really see how much it moulded itself to fill the guidelines of his nightmares. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean to insult the fine people of this country in any way, you have all been great to me, always, it is just the system, that keeps baby monitoring you constantly. I'm pretty sure your Google searches are fingered too, because I get completely different results in Finland, than I do get in here. Awful lot of adverts and things I "might be interested in". Usually I am not.

Some may think I write all this because I want to whinge and whine about something to be an anarchist. I am anarchist only whenever I see that there is a problem, which has a simple solution that would improve the life quality of individuals in society. If people are granted intelligent freedom based on the mutual respect, they become more productive, because they feel they are trusted, and they want to live up to expectations. If working for society is volunteer, it is more focused and motivated. If you keep whipping people and watching them all the time, that clearly sends a message of distrust to the individuals included. This kind of attitude breeds counter-attitude, which in most cases means: FUCK IT! I have already seen this in my work. Youths, who have not much to expect from their future, start abusing drugs at a young age and become the broken wheels of this engine. The engine, anyway, is built out of wood, and if too many of these wheels cause too much friction, it will light up and burn, which we have seen quite a lot of times in the London riots in the news, haven't we now?

torstai 11. lokakuuta 2012

Tripping still.

They try to sell me anything they can. Toys, food, wine, anything from cologne to cognac. They are desperate, but hide it in smiles. Every single tall blonde from Finland boarded this flight. Cliche airlines. It's still far more comfortable flight than the ones before. No complaints on that part, we#re still flying through the air horizontally, which is a good thing, I believe. Can't wait to get to sit in trains. It feels exactly like this. By now this trip has cost me 116 euros, plus some salmiakki for my host family. I wanted to get more of it, but I was in a hurry. Sorry. I#m listening to Neurosis' Given To The Rising, trying my best to ignore the kids and wine-sipping menopause-monsters. I think we're almost half-way to London.

In London I paid £93 for a train ticket that cost me an extra £17 when I got to the last train. The first time they actually checked my  ticket. It's an 1984-theme park. CCTV signs everywhere, train personnel assumes you're there to break laws, all of them. People are the same everywhere. Some are nice, most are complete twats. Except here in Wales. Here it's the other way round. And the spiders come in sizes and colors of Finnish cows, and cows come in colors and sizes of Finnish spiders.

Everyone's so nice they make me feel socially clumsy and huge. Like a giant in a cottage built entirely out of straws. Outside the house I feel odd. People greet me and smile, if they can't help me they're actually sorry, whereas Finnish people would just stare at me. We don't take kindly on strangers bearing their necks, showing they don't know something. We are always at war with each other, and giving this kind of leverage means death in the wild. RAWR, indeed.

First day of work behind. It was tiring but nice. It's still something to get used to, and I have shitloads of new routes to remember. But it's practically the same job I had back home. Tossing bag for other people, I'm used to it. I'd need to focus. Sit still. Listen to some music. Oh, wait. That's exactly what I'm doing. Sitting. In a train. Again.

And another day behind, this one was completely different. People keep telling me my English is great, but it doesn't quite feel like it when I can't understand half of their accent. It's thick as a forest made of bricks and concrete. But little by little I'll catch on some words. Get the hang of it. Now I'm back at the house. Listening to Graveyard. Soon we'll have omelette. All is well.

keskiviikko 26. syyskuuta 2012

Ups and downs.

Life, indeed, is a peculiar thing. At one moment you can be higher than you've ever felt before, basking in the holy light of the ever-glowing goddess of love and fertility, the Sun. You can find yourself happy, surrounded by friends and people who love you and share your interests. Then, in a blink of an eye, your'e left alone with strangers, in a world crowded with only opposing views and you feel like everyday is just another round in a MMA-cage, only that you're fighting lions and snakes instead of those husky fellas you see on TV. Eventually, you get worn out.

I have all my life felt somewhat excluded here in Finland. I know it is also self-inflicted. When I see that people have features and habits I don't want to absorb, I go back to my shell, return to my safe isolation. Because I rather be alone, than give in to cynicism and negativity of the average people. I don't want to live the life of settling for less, I don't want to stop striving towards the goal I see. That goal is to be free to express myself in any way I want. I know it will eventually pay off. Huge factor in my exclusion is my choice not to consume drugs or alcohol, to keep my body free from intoxicants and to keep my inner clarity at all times. It has taught me to be what I am, a solitary man.

Life is always a series of ups and downs, most of the time they are entangled into one and you can't see the importance of bad experiences as you go through them. I can easily say, that even the worst times of my life have given me shitloads of tools for survival. Still, now as I look at the upcoming first anniversary of my grandfather's passing, second of my grandmother's, third of my mother's side grandmother's, and fourth or fifth of my grandgrandmother's, I can't help myself thinking that I am going to lose someone close to me really soon. It haunts me, and it makes me feel sick. Traumas are the stickiest matter in the universe.

I have to re-evaluate myself, destroy everything and rebuild myself from a scratch. I do it practically every year. I know how my head works, and I'm glad I do. Most people have no idea. It gives me time to think and plan the future.. The only thing is that when I try, everyone tells me "well, you seem to be fine now." Not knowing it, they are dragging me further down, making the eventual demise faster and more drastic. It is a rejection of my worries on their part, but I can't blame them. They don't mean it. But know, I think I am about to hit my lowpoint. After that.. it'll hopefully start the process of healing.

perjantai 14. syyskuuta 2012

About Psychedelia and religious rituals.

I wanted to share this, because I find this rather interesting and important.

It is a documentary about psychedelic drugs as part of shamanistic rituals, our religions and cultures. It displays and explains the usage of herbs and shrooms and LSD, and gives some really interesting points on how they may have played a grucial part in the very beginning of our cultural evolution. I was afraid it would slip into new age hippie-bullshit, but it did not. Of course, when you have psychonauts talking about psychedelic drugs, you have their side on the subject. But the documentary had a variety of different people talking about the drugs, sharing their thoughts and learning new stuff themselves.

These aspects were really interesting to me, since I'm really into studying religions, human beings, their habits and cultures. I believe all religions sprout from the same root, same shamanistic essence, that is still evident in our present world, but it does not manifest itself through any organized religion. It has taken place inside our need to know ourselves, it is self-reflection, a will to understand your ego and it's limits, a way to surpass the ego and become objective. It guides our ideals of knowledge, we tend to value objective knowledge over subjective knowledge, although we are most of the time blind to the fact we are always subjective beings, and all the information we gather and accept is always seen through our own lenses. We just let everything uninspiring and dull pass us by, and build our world upon our own interests and moral values. This being said, I believe modern day shamanism is self-observation, reflecting your own actions, with or without drugs. You don't really need them, if you bear the insight  inside your own mind. For those who do not, they are tools to help them get rid of distractions, tools of concentration. The more you have insight on yourself, the better you can help your society and the people surrounding you.

As said in the documentary, religions might, and I believe they did, have had the psychedelic tripping as essential part of their rituals. Even in Christianity, where the communion was the flesh of god, which the shrooms are often referred as. Or as explained, they might have had a bad crop, which has produced psychedelic bread, which has sent them accidentally tripping their balls off, giving the experience of pure being. That is just one explanation, one part of it all, the documentary gives various theories, that I find interesting and fascinating, I am aware that they are not confirmed and verified information, but they are enough to accelerate my mind. This, though, is not a new thought. Aldous Huxley was observing religious rituals and shamanistic tripping, and he had similar ideas of psychedelia as an essential part of early religions. Later on, as they decided to want authority over people, they disconnected the divinity and denied their roots, making profane people dependant on their power to interact with the divine.  Because (as said in documentary) where would people need the church, if they had a way to feel whole, safe and complete without it?

I think religions have played their part in our cultural evolution. They were explanations to our experiences of holiness we might have  had when we had eaten certain herbs or animals unknown to us, because nature is full of hallucinogenic things, we're just being told their all venomous. And of course they are, but in small dozes they might have given us what appeared to be God. They would explain why people around the world had a similar idea of building huge geometric construction to help us determine our place in the cosmos, the pyramids. It would explain the worshipping of nature: We got our divine experiences from the forest by accident, so the forest has granted us this gift of self-observation. Later on they noticed that certain herbs did always the same trick, learned to use them, and performed rituals, which included these herbs being used as part of them. People were slowly but surely developing a culture, science and religion still entwined in this same form of worshipping life itself, until they derived as themselves, two counterparts in constant war with each other. Religion gave man the imagination needed to seek forth. Science took the torch from there, and did the same trick on religion, as religion did to drugs: denied it's part in it's own birth.

There's also a mention of our Finnish traditional epic of Kalevala, where there is Sampo, giver of happiness. It is an magic mill, which can produce anything one needs, and the heroes are constantly fighting over it. I read it when I was on the elementary school, so I should probably refresh my memories a bit. In the documentary it was seen as a metaphor for Amanita Muscaria one of our most common toxic, and to some extent psychedelic mushrooms. One of my friends ate one once, and had just mild burns and fever. He got a nickname that stuck with him ever since. I've heard that in Lappland shamans used to feed Amanita Muscaria  to their reindeers and drink their pee. I always thought of it as a repulsive habbit, but this documentary actually gave me an explanation to it: the mushroom emits acid, that disolves in your liver, and the liver produces the same psychedelic ingredient the mushroom has, so your pee comes out even more psychedelic than the shroom you consumed. Of course uptight Finnish men we're not going to drink eachother's pee, because in small towns that kind of news travel faster than the speed of light, so they made their animals eat it and drank their pee, as if to make it less gay. Right.

perjantai 27. heinäkuuta 2012

Warning! Neurosis-post.

I've been listening to Neurosis' Given to the Rising for two days straight. I've listened to it hundreds of times, but I think still it has taken all these spins, all this time, and these past to days to actually get inside that record. Now I realize that this band really does not mess around. They always make their best record to date. And that's something you can rarely say about a band that started in the 80's. And it is so strange. Until this moment I had thought that I understood this record, that I already "got it". And it proved me wrong. Now it is spread wide and beautiful, right in front of my eyes and ears. It spreads out like a forest of pinetrees in the last, slowly fading light of the first autumn nights. The ones that actually get dark, when the shadows grow patiently and eventually become the darkness. When you suddenly realize that it has engulfed you, it has been dark for quite a while already. This is something so beautiful I can't actually describe it in any of the languages I more or less write.

This band has carried me through the hardest days of my life, and I know they will continueto do so as long as I live on this earth. It is inspiring, just pure, spiritual redemption in form of music and art. It is my soundtrack of meditation, truly, utterly transcending and in it's own dissonant way in harmony with the nature. All the albums, just perfection when you sit close to the nature and let them flow through you. It elevates you, not like some new age hippie would think of it. It carries you away, gives you a taste of mortality, undresses you from troubles and traumas, let's you exist without worries, without guilt. Just pure being, enlightening, refreshing, purifying. It always makes me feel so much better than before listening to it.

The only reason I'm writing here about Neurosis right now, because I'm pretty sure the few readers I have in my Finnish blog are quite fed up with my Neurosis posts, that pop up about every six hours. So I decided to let out some steam here, since now one gives a shit anyway. I could probably make this post relevant by saying, that Cut To Fit's Havoc Supreme is out now and you can order it by sending us mail at . It's not nearly as good as Given To The Rising, but it'll do if you're into grindcore and shit.

perjantai 20. heinäkuuta 2012

Havoc Supreme, coming soon!

Havoc Supreme is out next week and you can order yours by sending us mail at . I will answer you next week when I have the records in my hands, until that everything is uncertain and will go wrong, in my head at least. It'll cost 8 euros + delivery, 16 tracks of shitty grindcore and twelve pages of stupid pictures made by moi. You can read the lyrics at . It'll be out on printed CD-R. Lately there's been shitloads of arguments about how shitty format it is. And it is. But for a broke ass DIY-band like us, it is pretty much the only solution at the moment. It is the most versatile format, because you can rip it to your computer or record it on the C-casette. It gives you possibilities to go more digital or more analog if you want. It's way cheaper than printing vinyls, which of course would grant us with some extra Scene Points (SP, those addicted to rpg's know this stuff). We will print vinyls some day, but until we'll start our mornings with a quick skinny dip in our pools filled with green, we will go with the cheapest possible way of releasing music. Because I believe music should be AVAILABLE, as easy and cheap as possible. When we sell out the pressing (which will be 100 copies), we'll put it on our website for free download, unless someone has done it already.

keskiviikko 27. kesäkuuta 2012

I tried.... I tried!

Just yesterday I decided to do a simple experiment on myself. I decided to live four days, simply lying dead. Not creating a single thing. My goal was to spend four days without writing lyrics, drawing pictures or making any songs. After about four hours, when my friends left home and I was left alone with my whirlpool of imagination and time, things started to get rough. I was making some coffee, and accidentally hit an empty soda can. There happened to be some fluid at the bottom, and it made that funny, ringing sound. I collected five empty cans, filled them with differing amounts of water, and in just few seconds I had my own, custom-made out of tune drumset. I vaguely remembered my experiment, but it was too late already. I took and empty trash can from the bathroom, and started recording some sort of roots/blues/captain beefheart/whatever song (You can hear it here). I decided to start the experiment today, but my mistake was to leave everything on the table, ready to be recorded. Today I made another song, an instrumental one. Why is it so hard for me Not to do a thing?

I believe when it comes to music, images and writing, I am an existentialist. I define myself through my work. Not as achievements that would ensure my value or social status in the eyes of other mortals, not through all the money I get (because I get none). My work is so important to me, because it is always reflective, it is always personal, as deep as it possibly can. It goes through all the bullshit, it is honestly me as vulnerable as I can get, and free to do anything. The power of sounds alone is enough. I must see what other things will be channeled through my fingers, through my heart and spirit. I can't say that they would come from my head, because I can not thing while I compose. I can't even say that I'd actually even compose. These things just flow through me. I don't make them, I am just an obstacle on their path to this world.  I don't know why they come through me, maybe because I'm always open, my antennas up like some gigantic ant.

This work helps me build an image of myself. It helps me see me from the outside, because I can not feel proud for my music. I'm as much outsider to it as anyone else. I can discuss about the manners or patterns, that seem to repeat themselves in the music I have let out, but when I listen to it, I can't imagine these kind of things would be made by Moi. They indeed are sounds that please my ear, they are important to me, because they are some sort of Jungian way of analyzing my own psyche, my subconscious that seems to take interesting forms when it is given the freedom to do anything it wants. I'm just happy it's this instead of burning stuff. There's always some sort of existence of fire in my songs, that's what I see in my head as I play, just images of fire, or sometimes water, which has started to occur just lately, and has aroused my curiosity. Where does this water come from, what is it's purpose in my creative work? The fire has always been some sort of rebellious, cleansing or destructive essence, depending on what sort of music am I working on. Instrumental music is always more interesting to create, but some songs write their own words and then I just let them come out. Tom Waits has compared writing songs to hunting birds or picking up potatoes. I believe he's right. I've written over a hundred songs, and although I may decide "Now I am going to write a song" and I usually end up with one, I can't say it is the same song I heard in my head when I decided to write one. They just give me something out of the bag, and that's what I start to forge, sometimes it's a sword, sometimes it's a plow.

sunnuntai 24. kesäkuuta 2012

About sundays..

For the last 20 years, sundays have been almost without exceptions quite hard for me. Sometimes laying perfectly still helps, but most of the time it just makes them worse. I hear voices in my head, asking how does it feel to have all these hangovers even though you are quite sure you were not drunk yesterday. You sat home, you did not do any drugs, and still your head aches and you're on a continuing guilt trip about all the shit you've put other people through in the past. Is it fair that other people get drunk and fuck something to feel the same? At least they get to be drunk and they get to fuck something. But still, I know, giving in to the self-pity and shame leads you nowhere but down, all the way to the bottom. Of course it's an question of attitude. If you think positive, you won't feel this way. Bullshit. There's so many X-factors on this thing you are never able to acknowledge all of them. Weather is one factor. If you have a shitty weather on sunday, you will without a doubt spend the whole day in some sort of neurosis, listening to Neurosis and feeling psychotic.

Sundays can be happy days. They can be days of cleansation, days of purification of body and mind. Today I've been cleaning my apartment, which is still in progress, because this place looks like train crash site without all the bodies. They left earlier today. But sometimes, when you manage to complete something, manage to write a little piece of music that describes how you feel about sundays, or just have a nice little jam with your friends, it can be purified. Otherwise it'll be lizards and fire and brimstone all night long. This, still, coming from the mouth of an straight and sober dude. I must endure these days, maybe read something.. Or give in, listen to some Neurosis, and perform all the housechores like some ancient rituals of redemption. I must undergo these passage rites to become clean, "thou shalt not hold filthy tablewear in thy sink". I need to take a walk on sundays, usually at night, when everyone else is fast asleep, and I can concentrate on every step, and the music that colors every step with it's spectrum of notes and their nuances.

My friends complain about mondays, but at least you can do some shit on mondays. You may have some work to do, you can go hunt some urban vacuum-packed prey on your plate, you have some actual shit to do and your friends are on the move. Sunday is the day the time has a day off. My perceptions of time are very vague and it keeps melting and twisting and turning around, now the clock says it's monday, but my head says it's still sunday. And I decide to believe my head. I don't know which one is worse for you, but I have music for both of ya. This is my own solo stuff, which apparently sounds a bit like Velvet Underground, whom I have never sacrificed enough time to listen to a whole song to the end. The other song is about Shitty Mondays, it's my friend upcoming solo record, and I had the privilidge to sing this one..

J. Kill & The Starvation Army Marching Band (which is still just me..)
Viljami - Paska Maanantai

perjantai 15. kesäkuuta 2012

About Life

Every single day of this life, to me at least, is a gift. I am always aware of the presence of possibility of non-existence, and no matter how bad cards this life will deal me, I rather take them than fold.  I will enjoy this life to it's bitter, or sour end, because I have no choice. I have never understood truly what it would mean not to exist, and I am not afraid to admit that it scares the shit out of me. I love life. I love every aspect there is to it. Music especially, resonating sounds that can bring forth so much hidden or forgotten emotions, just by vibrating at different frequencies. It is something truly amazing, astonishing, powerfull. As long as I can hear music and let it move some essence of emotions and consciousness inside me, I know I am alive. If I ever get to grow old, I might be one weird grandpa, listening to Neurosis, telling grandchildren stories about the rise and fall of Finnish grindcore, all the acid heads, dope fiends and hobos I have encountered along the way, telling them to listen to their own brain instead of heart, because heart keeps pounding "Fuck something! Fuck something! Fuck something!" but your brain might have something far more interesting to share.

As I consider the chance of simply "not-being", I feel chills down my spine. This is something I've struggled with all my life. The fear of non-existence, not that much the fear of dying. To me it's quite all the same how it will happen, I don't want it to happen at all. The years from 4 to 16 were really, really hard for me. It was constant middle age crisis, kicking and screaming against my mortality. I know I have not accepted it yet, but I hope I one day will. I think it is unlikely to happen, but I hope that through some kind of meditation, through deeper concentration and examination of my own consciousness, I could figure out what this mind, and this life too, is all about. Is it all just subjective, is it all just made for me? Then who would have come up with it, and why all the trouble of creating this world a history of conflicts and dying, is it just to make me aware, to catch my interest so that I can grab it's tail and start educating myself towards this direction? Is this the right direction?

Or do we just share this common delusion of absence of dying, which happens to be conscious life? We tend to think the other way around, that death is actually the could, persistent absence of life, whereas shadow is the absence of light. But to be honest, the universe is filled with darkness and death, and the life and the light are the exceptions to this common rule. It may be reconciling to think that there would be another conscious race cursed with life somewhere there in the space, but it would not matter.. We could probably never reach it anyway.

I know at some level all beings share my fear, it just takes different form in their eyes. They are afraid of the evolutionary signifacant forms of dying, snakes, spiders, darkness, high places, I am just afraid of dying. Becoming just dead matter, giving all my particles away is kind of a beautiful thought, but I love this world, I love being alive, I love music and thinking way too much to let them go. People try to comfort me by saying "don't worry, you won't feel a thing, so it won't bother you". That does not make it the least bit easier, it makes it worse. I want to be bothered, I want to feel and think. Maybe not for eternity, but until I think I have seen enough, until I think I am ready to let go of this life, and can leave with a satisfied mind. Still, one should not let any fear to paralyze. You must always live on, float through this sleepy, but irresistable river of life, enjoy it as long as it carries you..Because one day it won't.

lauantai 28. huhtikuuta 2012

Zombies on stage

Technology has brought a completely new kind of ethical question to our attention: Is it appropriate to bring the dead back to life? Not long ago Tupac Shakur was raised back from the dead in form of 3D hologram to perform for a bunch of people. The company behind this planned to take Tupac on tour, which Dr. Dre apparently prevented. Think about it. How would you feel seeing your dead friend brought back as someone else's puppet, just to make a few quick bucks out of stupid people who want to see the newest technology bring dead back to life? But no matter how real it may get, it's never the real thing. No matter how much of their personal physical features you manage to fit in the holographic show, you can never catch the spirit. The Idea of bringin KURT COBAIN back on stage really made me think about the ethics of all this. Bringing back someone who did not want to live in the first place sounds just plain stupid and... wrong? In my opinion, the essence of these artist who have died at such a young age lies purely on their legacy. The manifest they made by dropping out. Of course Tupac differs from Kurt Cobain, because he did not choose to get shot. But to me Kurt's music and views on life have always been something I look at with respect, and if that man wanted to die that much, we should not piss on his grave..

The beauty in all human life lies in it's limited time. I know I'd want to live for a thousand years, because I don't think my own music is never going to be something that unique. It's too private. So I could keep doing it forever, searching for my own limits, looking for the answers to my inner most questions. But for those, who have actually managed to write great music, something completely beyond our current understanding, the end defines the value. What would holographic dead artist say between the songs? "sorry I'm here, they bought my soul and essence and now I have to be their puppet and tour the world. It's in the contract." Why not have the hologram-Cobain blow his brains out at the end of every show? You can pretty much make 'em do anything you want. ANd that is the problem, they are not themselves, they are mindless puppets, with someone else's views and values. I bet none of the engineers has the beautiful mind of Hendrix. None of them can know what goes through his mind while he plays guitar. The image and soul, they differ in so many ways. You can't abstract them from their original context without making a complete ass out of yourself.

This thing gives me a migraine. I'll have to go lay down, my thoughts are like a swamp I have to crawl through right now. Just let Robert Johnson lay in his grave, don't fuck shit up. I beg you. I hope money can't buy even these fucks everything.

sunnuntai 1. huhtikuuta 2012

Bandcamp updated!

I updated our Bandcamp, now you can listen to both Babylon Burns and Fire Works, for free, online! fuck yeah! there's also a chance of catching some new shit soon...

European tour 2012

Hi, I'm trying to arrange a tour for our grindcore band Cut To Fit. We'd probably be touring with our mates from Spawn From Deceit, if you live somewhere around Czech Republic, Poland, Romania, Bulgaria or Slovakia, and think you can help us arrange some shows, please contact me instantly at . We don't need money besides something to cover the gas expenses, food and a place to stay, and a local band to play with will be much appreciated. You probably stumbled upon this blog while searching our music from blogspot, so you know how to find it. To make things even easier, you can download pretty much everything from our website:

Help us get this shit out of the way as soon as possible, so we can tell our bosses to go fuck themselves and start begging for the gas money! We are DIY all the way, and I'm out of job while trying to re-educate myself, Eetu and Vili of course make shitloads of money with their near-minimum wage jobs.

torstai 29. maaliskuuta 2012

I've had it with stupid people...

I've really kinda had it with all the stupid people in the world. The past two months have shown me what I really want to do with my life, and that does not include a steady day-job with some stupid twats, who don't want to educate themselves, watch documentaries or become better people. I rather stay home, alone, lacking my social contacts but keeping my inner peace, than go out there to feel depressed just because I am not like them, and because I don't WANT to be like them. Of course the society, in order to work properly, needs it's participants either fitting in, or feeling guilt for not fitting in. You're cut to fit. If you are different, or can not adapt to the rules of this game, you must keep it to yourself, in case you have some sort of ties (loans, mortgages, shit like that) to tie you to this sinking ship. Some do it out of solidarity, some to say that at least they were part of something bigger, altough their lives were pretty insignificant. Some just say fuck it, quit it, and usually shortly after blow their brains out.

I've been working with complete fucktards, and no matter how much I love my work, it just is not worth it. We we're playing at Mikkeli Über Alles on saturday, and warming up for Canadian Fuck The Facts on sunday, and it felt MUCH BETTER than anything I've done with my life within these past two months. I have hated myself, I have had to fight for the most simpliest of basic rights of an intern, I have carried this bag of shit with me for two months and now I finally found a place to put it. I pour it upon myself, dig into it to get rid of it. Cut To Fit shows have been my only sign of hope, the only thing that has kept me sane. We don't rehearse that much anymore, and it's been a bit tough spring to all of us, so we have got together only for the shows. And to me, they have all been awesome, and I want to play more of them. As much as possible.

Also seeing Fuck The Facts live was something beyond words. I instantly felt connection with the dudes and dudette, they we're nice and kind enough to let us borrow their tour equipment. I've never met a shitty dude in a grindcore scene, not a single one. But still with some people you instantly feel like you would have known them for a long time. I went to see them again at Helsinki on tuesday, and all night I kinda missed them already, because I thought to myself, this might be the last time ever I see these guys. I sure hope they'll be back as soon as possible, or that I'll get out of here as soon as possible. I need to travel around and go see all these people I've met through this grindcore-thing. The tuesday show was great, because I got to see many of my Finnish friends as well, I don't do Helsinki that often, so it was a somewhat warm and fuzzy night of shaking hands and feeling far better about myself, than I've felt at work. Also a big fucking thanks for Fuck the Facts' Mel for her existence. After all the old hags ripping eachother apart, she was a welcome breeze. I've never felt more honestly warm inside than when I saw her first screaming her lungs out, and then skyping her child afterwards. It made me feel like there's still something right in this world. I have almost hated women on this rotten globe for these few stupid examples that have ruined it for me. Though I know it's just these few stupid people, and not any other woman elsewhere.

To get all the shit out, I wrote a little something a while ago, don't know yet if it's going to be another Cut To Fit song or not, but it's here, to make sure I'll never be mistaken as one of you. You can keep your television-filled brainrottingfestivals you call life, you can keep your booze-soaked two day weekends. Keep all that shit, I want to live for myself, play with awesome bands like Fuck The Facts and Feastem, I want to be broke, I want to be on the road all the time. This is the only thing I know I can do without fucking up all the time, and it helps me keep my sanity to extreme extents.

Rebel Without A Pause

Just to become everything you are not
To take all the chances you never got
To exclude myself from your world
To exterminate all ties to your herd

I'm rebel without a pause!
Rebel without a pause!
Rebel without a pause!
Rebel without a pause!

Just to make sure I'll never fit in
To avoid becoming weak minded and limp
To guard and to keep my inner peace
I bleed out all bad blood and get the fuck out

Rebel without a pause!...

Never submit, never take breath
Always head first, always awake
Never give in to their demands
I know what I stand for and hold on to it!

perjantai 16. maaliskuuta 2012

keskiviikko 29. helmikuuta 2012


Music is such an incredible force. No matter whether I put on some Neurosis, John Lee Hooker or Melissa Auf Der Maur, it always gives me huge trips. I don't abuse any illegal substances, and despise the barely legal ones too, but music has been my drug since I was about five, and heard the first Type O Negative, Moonspell and Dismember records my uncle used to listen to. Of course I did not quite understand what it was that happened inside my head, but later on I had to use music in an escapist way. For seven grucial years of my growth my life was ascetic, strict and painful. I did not quite fit in within the limitations and rules of my own family and the small community my hometown inevitably started to form. I was taught to feel guilty for who I was and what I was not, I carried guilt and shame with me for seven years, until I got out.

Before that, music had worked like a drug, keeping me out of reality, latching the door that would lead to all the self-inflicted guilt and the sense of being misplaced the reality had to offer. After I moved away, I realised there are no limitations to what I am capable of. I can become anything, I have two big ears and a huge mouth, I have ten fingers and there has been lots of great artist who have been able to express themselves with less fingers. Hell, there have been blind and deaf musicians, so maybe I can learn some of it and express myself too. And I kinda did. Music became everything, it is the drug that takes me tripping, it helps me channel my emotions and it helps me give some form to my own thoughts and emotions. It is our universal gift.

We, as mortal beings, can not really do much in this world. We are thrown here, in the world that exists, but which can never announce it's existence anywhere, because we die and decompose. Everyone you know, will die before you, or they will mourn you. I'm not trying to sound depressing, that's just the way it is, folks. 200 years from now, last traces of you and even your kids may be wiped out. Life itself is absurd, because most of all the absolute time we are not alive. I believe what Hesse wrote in the final chapter of Gertrud, that because our life is absurd and without a purpose, we can as well be nice to eachother, give and receive comfort, be there for eachother instead of ourselves. Find collectivity in individualism. This is where music comes along. We can and we must, make emotional, actual, real music. To cover all the colours and shades of human emotions, share our mortality with eachother. It goes for all the art, but of all these I find music the strongest force. It is as visual as can be, great music gives you visions without music videos. It sets your imagination on fire. It's intense, and it is great. It is the fifth element, with Milla Jovovich almost naked.

This is why all these copyright peckerfaces make me so frustrated and angry. They do not see music that way. I can bet my left testicle most of them don't listen to real music at home. That's what all the great financial geniouses of the music business let out in every interview. "I don't have time to listen to music at home, because it's my job". These people listen to their thirty annoying chart hits all day, and then claim they truly understand how music works, when they know how business works. Rumblefish claimed bird singing as their material, and got fucked for it. But in my opinion all music is bird singing. YOU CAN NOT OWN MUSIC. If you make songs because you want to call them yours, you are doing it for wrong reasons. My music is mine because most people don't want to have anything to do with it. I still want to share it with anyone who shows any interest towards it. I want to discuss it, I want to break it into pieces and talk about it.

ACTA's problem is that it could make someone license for example crow's singing, and then put all the crows out of business. If a single crow anywhere would start singing, they would jam his asshole with lawyers and sue him for everything he's got. Better sue magpies, they like all shiny things, just like these whores. Economists say we should hold on to progress, but if the license issues pervents us from developing any great ideas further, it ends up strangling all the progress. And that is just ridiculous. I say, break these laws as much as you can. If they have hundreds of thousands of lawsuit in their hands, and people align and refuse to negotiate with these terrorists and their demands, they can not possibly go on with all this. Passive resistance, anarchy.

Music is not business. You're not supposed to get paid for every song you make. In these times it's more and more based on solidarity of the musicians and listeners, who pretty often are the same too. I buy shitloads of records, CD and vinyl, with every penny I get. I want to listen to music, I want to support the artist, make sure they are capable of writing new music, to make sure they can make their living out of it. Some clever guy would say this is where we need music business. No it is not. We have internet. We can anytime stop watching porn and kitty videos, find new music, find the artists themselves and have a straight contact with them. This is how I've found many artists, for example Daniel Persson, a  great Swedish songwriter. And of course many of Peter Dolving's great projects, now excluding The Haunted, which was sad news, but not a big surprise. Still I'm rejoicing the sight of all the artists going more and more independent, cutting the ties of major labels and actually giving in to music. Of course my band and I are always struggling, we have never money, but I'm willing to work, and put my whole pay to support this. Because I know we're on a right path, we are free in ways so many other bands are not.

tiistai 7. helmikuuta 2012

About Utopia, This Far...

I've been reading Thomas More's Utopia lately, well, I started it last night and couldn't hold myself 'till the end, I just had to come online and blast out all the thoughts I have this far. First of all, More's "friend" Raphael in the book is clearly his own voice in disguise, but I guess the few who actually read it know this already. Nothing new about hiding philosophy, especially one critisizing society and status quo, in form of dialogue, becouse it's kinda handy way of washing your own hands of all further responsibilities. Raphael states in this book, that we won't be able to build a fully functional society as long as we are stuck in our material, personal posession. Old Fight Club truth straight out of Palahniuk's mouth: things you own end up owning you. This is the very essential obstacle standing between us, and all the happy-happy-joy-joylands we can possibly imagine. I'm not saying communism would be any better answer, we all saw how that turned out.

I'm saying that one's personal posessions should be limited, in terms of DON'T OWN WHAT YOU DON'T NEED IN ORDER TO MAINTAIN YOUR PEACE OF MIND. Get it? If you, for example, enjoy music, you should focus on having posessions that would actually help you develop your chracter, instead of wanting to have every single piece of plastic ever made hanging on your walls. And use your common sense. If someone thinks that limiting someones right to own "things" would be limiting their freedom, we need to find some definition for what actually is freedom. In my opinion, it is the complete lack of things limiting you. So there we have it, in the light of Chuck Palahniuk's wise crack, we don't need random shit, because being free to consume is not actually freedom. It is just a refined way of slavery, because if you WANT to consume, you need to do shitloads of other things. You need to get a job, you need to dress for the job, you need to adjust your whole life and rhythm to fit the job, you need to work, so that you can get paid and you can consume. To be free to consume, is not freedom. To have the choice to become a slave and to consume on the other hand is. But don't give anyone bullshit about using consumerism as a way of self-expression. You could be painting pictures and writing songs, earn some money and express yourself. And everyone can do these things. Everyone should. It's accessible for anyone, always. They are skills, just like making food. Everything can be learned and taught.

We are herd animals. We have a natural, undisputed need to belong, to have warm interactions with people alike. It's psychosocial. We will go nuts if we don't get acceptance and acknowledgement from our peers. We don't need to go too far back in history (Utoya, anyone?) to find some individiual human beings, who have been unable to find this sort of connections with people alike, who would have help him feel wanted and valued. Capitalism, in it's current form, is out to make us all a bit delusional, paranoid and scared of our own neighbours. Thomas More described an utopian society, where people don't own too much, everyone works for 6 hours a day, no matter what your status or title is. Of course this sort of agricultural sociaty is today outdated, but it's basic foundations are still here.

We should offer work for everyone in need, becouse there's lots of jobs that won't get themselves done because we have made it all impossible with bureaucracy and unrealistic expectations about economic growth. It's not that hard. We should appreciate and offer more possibilities for volunteer work. There's thousands of kids out there who'd like nothing more to get a job, but have been dropped out of the system for minor crimes (posession of drugs, shoplifting, getting into a fight, etc) and can't get a real job. They'd probably love to join our new president Sauli Niinistö in his endless fight against snow in his yard. Let the kids have a chance.

maanantai 30. tammikuuta 2012

Enemy of Any Business.

Tim Minchin got banned from Jonathan Ross show, because executive thought his song was too provocative and would stirr a shitstorm in a Christmas show. Tim, naturally was pissed off, here's his rant, and below my comment on it:

"I think that’s complete, absolute, utter oxfeces. The song was one of the most intelligent interpretations of Jesus I’ve ever encountered. I’ve always admired your big brains, and your way with words, and I was laughing my ass off when I watched the video, thinking that you are dodging all the bullets and still getting your message through with this song, and then I read the rant and found out you were cut out anyway… I knew British people (especially ones working with telly or politics) were uptight, but I was not aware that they carry clusters of bananas stuffed up their asses.

It’s funny how Christianity, in all it’s randomness has gained such an chokehold on …well, everything. After all it’s nothing more than a misinterpretation of one jewish fellow, who probably never told anyone he’d be the only son of god, let alone starting a new religious cult in his own name (at least according to what I’ve read about this fellow, it would not fit the profile.) He was just misfortunate and surrounded by stupid people. I believe he was one of the many anarchist, humane fellows of his time, but after his martyr death things blew out of proportion. Without Romans there would not have been Christianity for the past 1700 years, it would have withered and died, but because it survived to the middle ages and was the last solid Roman ideal, it was preserved… Well, I guess you know all this, but my point is, that it’s just random luck that brought Christianity to it’s current state, and they just dodge this by relying on their fatalist faith, saying it was meant to be.

I think it’s just so fucking irritating to see such cencorship in the “western civilization”, which are all about freedom of speech and liberty on the paper, but something completely different when the reality hits the fan. Saying we’re better than Chinese does not make us better than Chinese. We’d need some shit to back that accusation up, and cencoring a song like this does not really do the trick.
Keep up the good work, come to Finland and I’ll buy you a cheap glass of red wine and we’ll discuss these and all other things. You made my day, but stupidity of TV executives already ruined it. I’m off to write some angry music."
The bit that made me think further on is the one about Chinese. We usually use China as an example when we try to find a place, where people are oppressed and their freedoms are limited to minimum. NO one complained about their crimes against human rights when we were on our knees, begging for money to save EU. I would not say we are any more free than they are. We're victims of very vivid and visible oppression, that is without a doubt even worse than oppression coming from the state alone: we have reached the time and place in the history, when our freedoms are limited by "multi-national corporations", just as Napalm Death declared about 25 years ago. I don't mean McDonald's or that sort of colonialist shitfaces, things are not one-sided, they provide chickenshitjobs for people who would not get any other job. I'm talking about major record labels, SOPA/ACTA-bullshit.

I'm a musician, and my statement is that art which is not honest, is just a decorative piece of furniture, pretty but hollow. Honest artist, who has something to say, is willing to do his or hers shit without getting paid too. It's his passion, probably the only thing he can do, so he does not have a choice. Of course, it's always a great thing if you can make a living with your music or arts, but usually it just drains all your money. And you still don't have a choice. Internet has introduced me to a shitloads of bands I would have never encountered otherwise. This is because of PIRACY. My music would not spread without PIRACY. Today it is somewhat grucial part of the music world, because record labels fucked us in the ass in prices for good twenty years. It's their own grave the greedy fucks dug, and now when it would be the time to lay down and let us bury them alive, they start suddenly policing the globe, running around "because they want to bring to the copyright owners what belongs to them."

Now this is where it gets interesting. Whereas twenty years ago "copyright owner" meant automatically "musician", on this millenium, it has become more and more "the one with the dough". Meaning the record label representative, who came up with the idea of putting these kids on stage. AND anyone with the dough can buy someone else's copyrights. This is fucked up. Although the idea of Bill Gates buying Justin Bieber's copyrights to shut him down may sound tempting, one should keep mind, that Justin Bieber did not write his songs. So, would buying his copyrights do any damage to Justin Bieber? Of course you can always buy the "brand" and the "name", so he can't use them anymore, but then he'd simply became Just Justin and switched to another label and "made" new songs. The fucked up part, in my opinion is, that the major labels are buying us all silent one by one, paralyzing music "business" in itself, since individual people can't share the music they love with others without violating someones "RIGHTS". WHAT THE FUCK!? They would be violating someone's RIGHTS, if they ripped a whole song, changed the name and played it as their own. Wait, no they wouldn't, because mankind has been playing the same twelve fucking notes for the last three millenias. Listen to the blues. There's practically three songs, that are varied, and no one complained about copyrights. But if I take my guitar, go to the street corner and play Boom, Boom, Boom, it's concidered a show and I need to fill attendance information and which songs I have played and.... FUCK. This makes me mad, because they say they are helping the artists, but they are actually helping three artists, 99 lawyers for every single one of them, and paralyzing the whole world with their stupidity.

I say, revolt. Download music, spread the art, kill the business. Fuck your copyrights, we know what is ours, what we have done and what we have stolen. Let's see it that the music business will die, and those who really love MUSIC, are out there, doing the thing they love, just like they were long before there was any business in the Music. We made a song about this, it will be on our next record, Havoc Supreme. The name is an answer to Napalm Death's Enemy of the music business.

Keep your fucking dollars to yourselves.
We're not obligated to be your slaves.
You don't own us, no one will.
This as far as your bullshit flies
There was music before business.
This is the death of your music industry
Keep your copy rights, we know what's ours.
Your law-term warfare has been outdone.
This is the end of your music business.

torstai 12. tammikuuta 2012

Knucklebone Blues

As her eyes rolled back and my fist raised back up to it's oh so natural striking position, I started to realized what I had done. What had begun as mutually agreed act of our own fetishes on my kitchen floor had been destroyed by my complete dominance over her. She was practically pulp by then. She was young, probably a wounded teen from a broken family, dad drove cab so he was never around until one night he came home drunk and beat her mother beyond recognition. You know, the usual, old and worn out story. She grew to understand love is nothing but pain. If you give love a chance and enough time, eventually it will backfire with serious consequences. She grew to understand that every moment carries a threat of violence in it. The easiest way to get away is to embrace it. As I thought all these thoughts she was bleeding my purple rag-carpets all black. So much blood.
It's surprising how much a woman's face can bleed when you pound it with only your fists. But in a way, it's her own decision. We're not connected in any way. This is just a way of letting all the steam out. And for her, a way to feel loved, I guess. I can't possibly think of any other reason a girl would volunteerly enter someone's house to get beaten up repeatedly. Suddenly I feel embarrassed.
Why am I doing this?
What do I get out of it?
Shot-term pleasure, perhaps, but in the long run it could only do damage. I raised my fist, with an intention of stopping this train of thought and crashing it into her face. But I just couldn't. I felt guilty. I felt pity. I felt actual love. I rolled off of her, to her side and laid there for a whole minute, listening to her shott, sharp breaths. She was sobbing, she was broken. Her beautiful young face was nothing but blue, bruised flesh and broken cheek-bones. Sobs grew into cries. I looked at her and hugged her uneasily. I had never been kind to anyone. I mean really, honestly kind. I've pretended a lot of times. But I can't remember many occasions where I would have acted out of actual, pure kindness. She was so small. So fragile. She was trembling in my arms. She was electricity.
She was incredibly loud sounds choked by silence. It felt so... Invigorating.
It was like I have imagined dying would be. It was release.
"Don't be scared..." I whispered to her ear through the mess that was her hair. I realize I sounded insecure and scared myself. I was shaking too. Just like her. She calmed down eventually, but it was not easy. I held her tighter and cried. I fell asleep.
As I woke up she was still there. Trying to breather through her swollen nostrils. I stood up and went to the fridge. Milk, OJ, some tomatoes and butter. I drank some milk and went to take a leak. I left the bathroom and saw the girl starting to wake up, little by little.
"Don't be scared..." I muttered again. I went to my bedroom and turned the guitar amplifier on. The valves took their time to warm up. Soon they begun their soothing, warm, fuzzy humming. I took mu guitar from the bed and turned the amp from STANDBY to ON. I let my fingers do what they can. The first blue notes filled the air. They followed eachother smoothly. It was somewhat devastating experience. Some moments ago these hands were destroying.
Now they were creating. But they were creating out of their own need to create. I had nothing to do with it. It made me kinda sad. Destroying that girl was entirely my decision. My work of art. This was not. This was purely therapy for the aching fingers. I was completely drowned by the sounds. They were choking me. My guilt was swimming into my brain. These blue notes were healing, but they were also honest. They brought back all the pain, they truly let me have it all. Guilt and blame with the works, please.
I felt tears flow down my cheeks and into my beard. I can't remember the last time I cried before this day.
"That's beautiful.." the girl had snuck up on me. Speaking was painfull and hard, but she had made the effort of expressing her feelings about the music. It felt strange.
"I guess..." I muttered to my beard, I turned the amp off and looket at the doorsill where she was standing. She was struggling to stay calm, but she was not afraid. more like cautious.
"..After all, it's your music." I finished my somewhat confusing sentence. Interest lit her eyes.
"whaddya mean?" she asked.
"Well... I didn't have that much to do with it. It was more like my fingers, trying to apologize for everything.. Every note was a mistake.. unintended."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" She clearly did not get it.
"Nah, it's just some existential voodoo mambo-jambo, nevermind..."
Now that I looked at her as a person instead of object of... passion, I realized she was kinda pretty. In that fragile, clumsy way. She did not look like a whore, that's for sure. She was not like all the others. She had a long, dark hair that fell down her shoulders like river. It was a bit messy, for you-know-what that had been going on a bit earlier. Her eyes would have been pure fire if I would not have beaten them to just dim embers that had to fight to maintain any warmth at all. Knowing it was me who did all this made me feel uneasy.
I turned my back at her and fingered restlessly the frets of my guitar. The blues comes so naturally in times like these.
"Listen... I'm not angry or anything... No regrets, right?" She said. Her voice was soft, insecure, broken. She sounded a bit scared again. As if she thought I was going to jump at her and beat her with my guitar. I know. My own fault. I was speechless. She left the doorsill and I played some more. The music carried me away. This has been one strange fucking night. The slam of the closing door woke me up from my unwritten songs. She's gone? Just like that? Well, can you really blame her?
I unplugged my guitar and dragged my feet to the hallway. For some good minutes I could do nothing but stare at the closed, heavy wooden door of my apartment. Another door shut. She's never coming back. Now I have to confront the complete silence. It surrounds me, it attacks me. It is violent. It is malevolent. She's the only girl I ever even felt sorry for. Suddenly I hear the same blue notes again. Life goes on. I am the spider, this is my web. I play these notes, and eventually, after all the flies, it will attract someone like me. And she'll come. And she'll complete me. Until then.... I just wait.