All The Wrong Topics dot com

where the heart sits calmly.

the music makes some men weep and a few others swagger when the pulse of the unbridled reached their ears. the catatonic stares of the tone-deaf were all but too-quick to point out the problem with music’s champion potentials, and now even the most ardent capitalist is trying his damnedest to make the radio seem like the same-as-it-ever-was playground that it never was. things need to be taken out of the context of bureaucracy, and put into the hands of the disparate squads of youth in abandon, the rightful heirs to a musical responsibility. Here there is no end of successors to the throne, as it might be perceived by passers-by, but there are no kings and queens anymore. the substantial emissions of true progenitors and innovators seems to decrease at an alarming rate as the crap rolls down the mountain. no solid sound to lead us through to the doorsteps, and beyond, of the shopocalypse. the consumer revolt is stalled for yet more days as the currency drifts into less-than-sober handling. the monsters and subversives crawl through the rich manure of the land as the quest for righteous sonic justification continues by-and-large. amid the hectic pace presented by the wankers, buggers and besotted idiots out there, the truth still lies there borne of grief and shame, and few are impressed enough to pick it up again. these angles of attack and gain are wrong enough to be considered avant-garde, but weak enough to not be considered at all by most people. the process of selective selection, I suppose.