[WTF Review] Os Almeida - O Chamado de Cthulhucas (The Call of Cthulhucas) / The PSR-38 Sessions | |
Double Review Aritst: Os Almeida WTF album: O Chamado de Cthulhucas (The Call of Cthulhucas) Tags: Lo-Fi, Folk, Noise, Satanic WTF Quality: Purest sickest shit telling the life story of LFC, WTF legend and sovereign ruler of All. Lifespan: 2008 - Country: Brazil Link: http://www.osalmeida.net download http://www.osalmeida.net/site/download/osalmeida_cthulhucas.zip I am LFC I am Lucas Fucking Crazy This is my life. it is Poetry of ecstatic sickness. Fucked Sickness Beyond Experience. He becomes me and I him, through this metamorphic transformation in the sound pair-a-dice. I am all consuming. the snake +QD+ Born from the infinite pure glowing blue. The pool of tranquil azure is the void from which I commence. Out of the blissful trance within the refraction of the sun and the water and the sky, I emerge. I scream electric static in your ears and at the celestial guitar harmonies. Os Almeida begin to utter my tale. Never satisfied I seek fulfillment like a child sucking at the tit, that's how I fucking feel. Until I shit rivers of milk and prematurely ejaculate a yellow flood of baby-spum at age 0.5. When it's done with me I start to feel the whiplash, like something is not right, to exceed is to incur pain on myself, too much is too much, any further and I drown in my own lust-fluids, I become what made me, the effervescent span of tranquil serenity. I drown it with abrasive noise. Unreasonable, unthinking, intuitive, primordial spum. It is not enough. A Criatura Anatomicamente Impossivel Pounding. Expended. Exhausted. In need of rest. In neutral. In fear. Drive is in reverse. Steady. Pulse. I am alive. And through all that. The throbbing gloom pulsating through this music is my black blood. Look at what I have become as I assume my metamorphosized adult form. I betray all beauties and ideals and hope. I have turned against my creator and seek only depravation of body and spirit. At this point in my life I am ready to take action. Still craving food and drink and chemicals in the brain. Escape. The deafening silence, I ROAR. ENOUGH OF THIS! DEFILE!!!!! A Noruega Paulista My friends the Almeidas have accurately depicted me, down to the last testicle hair. A thick thumping bass drives the crackling madness in my head. I am a scourge, I am evil, I am sick, I stand against all that is righteous and holy, I desecrate all that is sacred, I shit on you and myself, I love hate, I hate love, and I've had enough of this terrestrial space of flesh and grunt. Muck and Scum are merely not enough, the nauseating smell of boiling flesh and bone fumes are my next natural step. Descida ao Inferno (ft. LFC) I am LFC. Hear my voice. Whiskey. Tobacco. Various hard drugs of shady origin. Ugliness is the highest. I'm sure if you listen to this album, your journey will be different from mine, as I am the almighty LFC and you are an insignificant speck of shit hanging onto a flimsy anal hair. I reign over all in the sickest of shit. It is honestly the sickest of shit to ever grace the bowels of mankind and demonkind alike. Pesquisa Antropologica Sex. You want a love song? For you, my interesting sex story. Lyrics translation below. So tell me about your fantasies; are they anything like this? Just a few simple guitar chords, some tape hiss, melodica, and Portuguese lyrics, and of course the fascinating electronic toys that burn my erections to full throb. O Chamado de Cthulhucas And to suck it all off, my favorite party song. Oh love! Oh powerful joy! Mourn life! Celebrate dismemberment! Celebrate abortion! Celebrate the destruction of this Earth! Mourn the closing of this album! Celbrate LFC! For I represent the fucked up-ness in ALL! -Jeemobon (Via invocation of LFC) From Richard Almeida: everyone must know more about the life of the great LFC. So here are the lyrics translated into English by the songwriters themselves. +QD+ (abbreviation for "more than too much" The boy dreams too much when he took off the mask was himself who was behind the boy drinks too much when he poured the burning water was himself Who is distilled behind the guy knows what he does when he took off his pants was himself who became behind the boys gets laid too much when he ejaculated semen was himself who became pregnant behind THE CREATURE ANATOMICALLY IMPOSSIBLE a claustrophobic space of pure cracked concrete moldy floors and walls of sadness the drain of a sink rusty filthy left a creature whose geometry defies nature twenty-three angles between the tentacles less solid consistency to creamy facilitated the passage of something so big that instead of mouth had green suckers some say that the sound made by the creature denounced the lack of soul in something so appalling because, instead of voice or anything approaching human what was heard was a deafening hiss and even today, many years later there is no way of knowing what was that sound if they were screaming or wailing, in pain or pleasure because certain stories are better not being told PAULISTA NORWAY ("paulista" = located in the estate of Sao Paulo) In the village dominated by seafood once existed a pagan kingdom in attacks in the current Christian reality churches are desecrated with graffiti and the ink's fire still burns in memory of those who witnessed a can in hand and two fingers making horns from the hairy who resigned god the eighth level of the flaming underground lucifer watched the action with mannerism and indeed, it was the devil himself who called 911 and reported the vandalism what no one could even imagine that on that small village would born suddenly, without blinking the Antichrist who would descend to Hell DESCENT TO HELL (INSTRUMENTAL) ANTHROPOLOGICAL RESEARCH "Sex?" Asks the monster with a thousand faces "In the section on teen age education" responds the 60 years old librarian. "Sex?" Insists the monster with a thousand erections "I leave here at 6," says the widowed librarian I'm so horny for you mam Making love will be groovy And then they go down to the ninth level, and a forró happens (forró: traditional brazilian northeast music ball) Tens of thousands of elderly women with flaming nipples dance The Monster copulates with all, through its thousand sexual organs While the librarian shakes in jealousy and murderous rage The widow's glasses fog up and break At the same time she drops her grocery bags into the ground Boxes of cake dough and tubes of vaselin jelly are spread The monster gives 500 winks in one eye and smiles THE CALL OF CTHULUCAS Tem cabra que passa a régua, tem cabra que risca o chão (this verse absolutelly doesn't come across with nothing in english... but this would give a vague idea: "there are cowboys who get laid, there are cowboys who get fights") There are matchmaker women, there are women who don't say no And without excusing himself, he cut off the head of the old librarian woman and oddly enough Her chopped-off head still showed naughtiness. With the blood gushing out and black eyes rolling The whole tongue out, three seconds choking But it was long enough for the Devil to intervene Trying to defend the honor of the widow who would give birth to another Devil's child for this world to destroy While cleaning his teeth with the aborted fetus Into the deeps of the underworld he was teleported To checkout his bill, without a chance pay later With the owner of Hell, no Savior can help you: Accepted the knife fight, took off his shirt and went to battle After a long battle with Satan himself He escaped from Hell and never looked back He kept crushing the Demon's head And with cowboy boots he galloped To prove to the world who was ruling. Right above the Hell there is a vast ocean And he got his sea horse galloping Loud rang his trumpet to warn the planet I tell you this, my friend: the world is gonna end Now it's all fucked... Cthlhucas rises from the sea! WTF album: The PSR-38 Sessions Tags: Lo-Fi, Lo-Tech, MoR, Easy Listening, Funny. Very, very funny. WTF Quality: Just a very strange thing to do. Done for the sheer hell of it. A piece of Low Budget Brilliance. It was never going to be a fair fight. A bunch of lowly primates against the massed troglodytes of the mighty Yamaha Corporation? Os Almeidas have taken upon themselves here a worthy and noble task; to invade the enemy from within, to infect the host and let the virus spread from the micro chip to the processor, thence to the very brain of the beast; then to watch it tumble, humbled before the marauding horde. The PSR-38 is an evil piece of kit. The "samba" button alone has been scientifically proven to use ten times more energy than any other rhythm. This monster is not a friend to the environment. Os Almeidas, our hirsute Superheroes, have set out to prove that it can be tamed, and bent to the will of a skilled operative. Mission accomplished. 1./ Beber Pinga e Legal (Portugese:-Drinking Rum is Legal/Spanish:-Dick and Legal Drinking) Oily lounge-lizard shuffle with some frankly dangerous vocals recorded without a safety net. Plus lunatic solos clearly under the influence of one of the more fortified wines of the region. 2./ Eu Devia Ter me Casado (Portugese:- I Should Have Married/Spanish:- I Married and Deviated) Heavy Metal is up for treatment next. The PSR-38 handles this magnificently, with the aid of some frenzied guitar work that never quite musters the enthusiasm to melt your face. Splendidly done; the ending is a treat. 3./ A Velha Jovem Guarda (The New Old Guard) A spunky little blues, with manic "trumpet" interjections and some cheeky BV's, this chunters along nicely, but fear not! It then develops into a freaky "surf's up" solo; again, the ending is a doozy. 4./ Perdido, Nos te Amamos (Lost, We are in Love) Back to the Baroque here, which is deftly juxtaposed with an anti-social guitar solo. Delicious. 5./ Pereira E um Cara Batuta (A Pear and a Man-Wand) ...which frames off the suite beautifully. Well, it does; that - no more, no less. Although they are few in number, these pithy, witty, refreshing little sorbets are deceptively simple, deeply witty and darkly offensive all at one and the same time. Their brevity is testament to their humour and compactness. To flirt with so many styles, then to take them all home and bed them, is a tribute to the carefully cloaked skills of an unparalleled guerrilla force. To extract depth from an intellectually stunted instrument with the mental agility of a small soap-dish, is a tour de force greatly to be admired. It was never going to be a fair fight. A bunch of lowly primates against the massed troglodytes of the mighty Yamaha Corporation? My money's on the guerrillas, every time. ettuspadix |