[WTF Review] Os Almeida - O Chamado de Cthulhucas (The Call of Cthulhucas) / The PSR-38 Sessions

[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



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

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


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



"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


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.