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A funky popscramble built for gawking.
funk acid acidrock gospel
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Artist picture
Funk-based FreeRange NonOrganic ChickenPop: hoppy, rough, and mean.
Put Some Medicine In Your Cabinet! The Creamy Young Hustlers, led not in administration but by inspiration by Iceberg Al, are a constantly evolving, ever-rotating funky-noise ensemble spewing psychadelic whirlwinds of voodoo-infused chickenpop at the Conventional Music Monks, who quake at every atonal note and every terrifying, slithering rhythm. Deriving its confusing power mainly from the ever-forward integration of new members, new styles, and new expressive slants, this music will either grind you or grab you (eat your children or haunt your refrigerator)... add Iceberg Al's gurgling, non-articulative vocal moans to the recipe and now you have bottled, prescription-only, don't-use-with-heavy-machinery, completely-marketable SUPERWEIRD...
Song Info
Genre
Pop Electropop
Charts
#19,482 today Peak #283
#808 in subgenre Peak #18
Author
Al Pyle
Rights
c 2002
Uploaded
January 13, 2003
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.8 MB 128 kbps 0:00
Story behind the song
Based on a true story! my friend dave was riding his bike to the bank on a friday during the time of the 2000 presidential-election indecision... in downtown sacramento the frightening cavalcade of backwards-ass rednecks was picketing for bush with their usual grace and charm (the charm of vomit in a blender), and a particularly friendly faction of this crowd shrieked 'out of the way, hippiemotherfucker! there's a new a-merica comin' through!' at my befuddled hippie-looking friend from the flag-encrusted back of their pickup truck.
Lyrics
in irony not lost on me, it's when i leave my concrete tipi - eeking on the surging sea: resurgence of a great salvation - ward righteous riversouls, funny how nostalgia still sells, funny it takes a crowd to sell me all on isolation never have i seen these streets so littered, bittered laundered white sheets, eats away my drive to keep in seeking soft, objective notions out of the way, hippiemotherfucker, there's a brand new america coming apparently these zealots breed; efficiency insects only dream of, offering their purity: winglets for the great migration - ward writeous bootstrap prose, funny how nostalgia still sells, funny how you think this crowd can teach us any ethiquations in irony not lost on me, huddled in my concrete tipi -eaking on the rate of speed attached to every backwards motion - ward black shirt fashion show: they'll help me pack for my new dwelling, spurred to sell my story-telling at a reservation up in folsom.
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