OCCULTONOMY: Self-titled: Cassette

May 20, 2014

You’re out skating alone late at night. You’re lost in the tunes blaring out of your walkman. Suddenly you notice that the moon is closer than it should be. The wheels of your board are rolling through the night sky. You’re in space. It’s peaceful, but peace isn’t really what you’re looking for. You want to shred. You pop this tape in and turn it up. The weirdo thrashcore melts your ears as you carve through the stars. You sing along: “I just wanna thrash someplace in outer space!” It’s a good night. 

 –mp (Reality Is A Cult)