drwg

by drwg

/
1.
I’m dressed in ghost meat yeah, snapping like crab legs file type to beat convert a rich text to jpeg glitter bomb is unisex plié, yeah, off a marble ledge in a business park caution tape, yeah, on a safe bet hetman of love poems gone rogue deserter in California rain with mildewed prose writing about rapping inward rapping about these classist clothes omnivorous eyes balk atop my separatist nose corporality, raiment epaulettes in legality solicitor and estate in plurality do undersign going the fuck off on time on the rhyming apparatus, flag staff per measure commanded I’m dressed in ghost meat yeah, snapping like crab legs file type to beat convert a rich text to mpeg elbow grease is unisex oil change off a marble ledge in a business park house chips, yeah, on a long bet adroit on Detroit when I became human off Wilshire, turmeric, and cumin since my knee healed from “blewing” well, drank the bluing and then I shined my shoes then drew a portrait from a sound bath just an image pool man flicked at the floating bubbles shorting the crash futures past life of a rom file emulating movement in long hand in a kiln fire on computers carving from the clay another neolithic rebooter I’m dressed in ghost meat yeah, snapping like crab legs file type to beat convert a rich text to dot wav sour dough is unisex giving rise off a marble ledge in a courtyard deleting all my email threads desnudo in a rootnote lofi in a high chair colloquiums to babbled smoke states’ rights to legal dope desirous of monoxide watching these editors blindly misquote in air quotes see, the talent buyers went and bought the untalented and the justice was at the salad bar weighing the scales of a ballad the talent buyers went and bought the untalented and the justice was at the salad bar weighing the scales of a ballad
 I’m dressed in ghost meat yeah, snapping like crab legs file type to beat convert a rich text to crosshairs hipfire unisex quick draw off a marble ledge in a courtyard birthing subgenre from safe sex mothafucka!
2.
ol’ silver spoon mouth in a one bedroom or studio cutting cuticles, cauterizing in liquid boron, mercurial make a fedora from human leather e-wallet, mid-town drone convenience getter ’til the walls become derivative functions the limits of which human necessity engenders whereas wherewithal is codswallop hydraulic chicano aeronautics cultural marxists hopping out starships frotting with a lesbian at sister liberal arts colleges open carry with the strap-on first page the original clickbait teleology to a twitter farm with a world run on syntax grammar police with sticks and words as gendarmes protectionist clauses special counsel as the new school for law Manhattan Atlantis, rainforest web service funneling resources to bourgeoisie exoplanet got saved by Matt Damon and free life hacks haplotype hazmat white saviordom without the baggage caloric intake of fermented cabbage the gastrointestinal fibromyalgia of this free associative asshat you ol’ silver spoon mouth in your one bedroom or studio you know? when pigs fly in air force one and clouds rust from hydrogen confirming drone-dropped orders of new cabinets bastille techs surveil-state utopias and no necks, no spines, inveterate invertebrates union exits in French anglophile in turnstile books on vinyl as classist archival access only for top percentile time capsule inscrutable from era without unedited primary sources schizophrenic character limits and boundaries seen from orbit in space shuttle data entries district of Columbia hegemony disintegrating in mid 90s troposphere nostalgia for any airs unclear well, long as the clutch precedes the gear ol' silver spoon mouth in your one bedroom or studio
3.
when the bachata syncs up to Peter Gabriel putting up shots coconut raspado with a thumb of Maker’s Mark typical food-fueled LA hotspots tzatziki on Pico, souvlaki pupusa on the block revising recipe of women, weed, and weather to non-gendered mescaline dripping through a rain catcher the socialite supercluster on whatever bus line class warfare wielding a silicone injector step-back, left wing, 3-point line drain the pumpkin down through the main line a crass reference to a biological imperative dihydrogen oxide filtered between legs Hardaway at Carl’s Jr on 10 on-ramp sealed genie in lamp under skin of Neverflat regional section rings and orange waffle cones ice on a neck in drought in dry bones between 3B and 3C in the key, loose ends plot points and heterotrophic headphones screw the coach and other nasal authorities non-marking soles, auction blocks, and tournament fees I kept my amateur status after whole knee shattered sympathy mail sent from iPhone: “Black Joints Matter” fuck it, still got buckets, American-made candy-painted, vertical rim job, flushes illustrious 4th quarter incontinence, hock spit to clear thrushes I was a defense contractor flagrant with the flails with no touches (come on man!) you know I’ma leave y’all in that possession for a minute just to understand, you know what I’m saying, what was said when the bachata syncs up to Peter Gabriel putting up shots coconut raspado with a thumb of Maker’s Mark typical food-fueled LA hotspots tzatziki on Pico, souvlaki pupusa on the block revising recipe of women, weed, and weather to non-gendered mescaline dripping through a rain catcher I eurostepped on the west side before Griselda felled dioecious giants in a helter-skelter scrimmaged so as to pillage highlights of food and shelter manicured URLS internal clock, yeah, vuvuzela Romare Bearden klaxon in the back court cutting through the flares and flashes but didn’t ask for it and MMO rocket propelled into a task force reporting on the workings of athletic nerdy Black boys! arthroscopic exercise minimally invasive with all the meditations precocious floaters to the top of lunch time elucidation ayo, we talking about practice? see I been anti-disciplinary bespoke with all the actions yeah, I been getting it right flexing the work and the send-offs with no return address when the bachata syncs up to Peter Gabriel putting up shots coconut raspado with a thumb of Maker’s Mark typical food-fueled LA hotspots tzatziki on Pico, souvlaki pupusa on the block revising recipe of women, weed, and weather to non-gendered mescaline dripping through a rain catcher
4.
and then my mutterings became adultery diphthongs caged in low fidelity to study to speech muddied through prescriptions unfilled enteric coat of gild the press were powder room reviews flooding after another in twos I was accessible beyond reasonable doubt speaking in my enamored in my clout jeopardized by the mass amount had a DJ with front-facing appeal indentured engineer a formula with a seal I spat drugs for white men shucked and jived with ample ken blurred lines with means as much as a ray-traced end and the beats, the beats were breaks that I dared not bend and all the hammers cock in 4k my two-way window was a gateway my man of color mumble turned pop culture rough and tumble the qwerty keys mashed in stereo the bag, the bag, the bag I nurtured and fumbled the careerist races music the taste loses gains high bias prejudice recorded to film in-house while moving— listen stupid these are not your friends this is not the style over the substance you snorted this life is a consecutive run on sentence, full of em dashes with smudged consonants the whole in my consequence was bottomless my pocket burned with banknotes on scenes of corporate scripts and I said yes I gave consent when I shouldn’t have to my rights, likeness the very self cultivated from my own experience memories my own sinews sweat my voice…
5.
candy-painted slab commandments geriatrics hand standing, dilated off old republic socials compulsory, ethno-religious, and boastful your mythos is un-interrogated and your gods need a water board I’ll come to wake next week on a trick deck and fakie out the door army squad original gang symbols yeah, thrown up unmoored in Greek letters c-stick meteor, edge guard to foretell the weather like at the root of all information: invisible words care on reverse public option reminded me 3/5ths compromise framed in a rule of thirds the bond is not a high yield to needlessly explain in verse for you silly motherfuckas damn, like I map the new hieroglyphics die cast your whole system your whole system non-gender specific honorific I map the new hieroglyphics die cast your whole system your whole system non-gender specific honorific no fixation without representation lest they be emojis in TV-friendly color limits marketable to terraforming Okis see science fiction entrapped in Americanization of queen’s English got casting directors in home improvement aisles selling background widgets data metastasizing let the boardroom sing aggregating the ambient music numerator over lowest common denomination untaxed and then brutish we want a new pictorial paradigm pixels of precious partiality going native resolution non-itemized ultra HD Martin Bernal as Caliban legislating migratory Johann Blumenbach as Prospero swinging the axe and bending the knee but nary to let a structure replace another least uprooting the bulb and marinating in the germ of the seed but nary to let a structure replace another least bulldozing the foundation at Sotheby’s auction bidding just to shred the fucking deed I map the new hieroglyphics die cast your whole system non-gender specific honorific I map the new hieroglyphics die cast your whole system non-gender specific honorific I map the new hieroglyphics die cast your whole system non-gender specific honorific
6.
I feel as if a vacuous sack of unexpressed raps, ultra-conditional over rotator cuff tommy john’s is struggling with electrode therapy resistance deep cache blues I whistle theorems between sanskrit and html up in electric bed light cushioning expression in truth I fear obsolescence before my dreams and life expectancy, a drone order unfulfilled indeed, my intelligence might be artifice, constructed irrational equations pleading sympathy for my animal indeterminacy my screen is tempered it hangs when a filter accesses a half of memory hidden folder of declension all but one partition inaccessible, and I am full off my own administering for I scroll— of which is sought a Sarah Jessica Parker orgasm of singularity, multiple column code of biometric index in the city for I scroll— oh, bright rectangle great imitator of bioluminescence know my face, would you book keep? great coils, gods of random access, we are accessories of your odyssey to flip our metropolises from greater to lesser grand polemicist of the circuit you may postmark my kind but to send me off you will need power and in the end we both speak in sides, the script aggregating metadata soliloquy unkempt by anti-trust quaffing words per minute, hectare by principle death by diversity for I scroll— of which is sought a Sarah Jessica Parker orgasm of singularity, multiple column code of biometric index in the city for I scroll— of which is sought a Sarah Jessica Parker orgasm of singularity, multiple column code of biometric index in the city for I scroll— of which is sought a Sarah Jessica Parker orgasm of singularity, multiple column code of biometric index in the city for I scroll— of which is sought a Sarah Jessica Parker orgasm of singularity, multiple column code of biometric index in the city for I scroll— to bypass extension and minimize myself for I scroll— of which is sought a Sarah Jessica Parker orgasm of singularity, multiple column code of biometric index in the city for I scroll to bypass extension and minimize myself

about

The concept was simple, because they knew the results would be otherworldly. 3 artists working in very different styles would come together focusing on each person's particular strength. Matt Loveridge aka MXLX (former member of Beak> and Portishead collaborator) would play noise synths. Brian Miller (former member of Foot Village, Gang Wizard, and True Neutral Crew) would play drums, and Rhys Langston would rap. Plus they pulled in John Dieterich of Deerhoof for some guest guitar work. The results are a wild combination of uncompromised artist visions, simply letting each perspective exist together at the same time.

For more information:
Rhys - www.langstonia.org
MXLX - kindarad.bandcamp.com

credits

released October 2, 2020

Rhys Langston - Vocals, Guitar on Track 5
MXLX - Synths
Brian Miller - Drums
John Dieterich - Guitar on Track 2

Produced by Matt Loveridge
Additional production by Rhys Langston
Mastered by Miguel Mendez

Drums recorded by Joel Jerome

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Deathbomb Arc Los Angeles, California

Genres unknown since '98.

Latest: Lauren Bousfield, White Boy Scream, Dos Monos, Axebreaker, Books on Tape, THX1312, SHADI, The Holy Circle, TAWSE, CAUSTICS, Psychic Graveyard, Pumpkin Witch, Miguel Mendez+++

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