All This Art

My friends don’t ask me my opinion of Dischord because they’re too busy telling me their opinion of Dischord, even though I bought 20 years of Dischord the day it came out; my favourite track is “What Kind Of Monster Are You?” by Slant 6. And if you are wondering, there is a direct correlation between the levels of Caucasian testosterone and factual masturbation over a million dollar DIY record label. I’d like to take a moment to point out there is nothing original about this or any other song that has been released, ever— that I’m not the first person to project over arpeggiators and I won’t be the last, although I imagine most other artists don’t feel a need to include a tabla solo in their music in order to bridge the gap between art and artist. And yes: that is a thinly veiled, poorly written reference to the racial expectations and divisions along genre lines, and if you’re in a position to do so, sign me, you racist. If your bored of hearing about it, I’m bored of thinking about it

All this art, all this art, all this art, all this art

Imitating life, imitating life, imitating life, imitating life.

All this art, all this art, all this art, all this art

Imitating life, imitating life, imitating life, intimidating life.

Stop having fun immediately and think about what you’ve done

My best friend is a white English man, who is as indigenous as he is kind. We spend most of our time discussing records we love, people we hate and all the things that might kill us; however, that which doesn’t kill me only makes me weirder at parties, but that’s not something that worries me anymore, because nobody invites me to parties. Seems as if my half baked hot takes, like: if there is a heaven it’ll be highly unlikely any of our heroes are there just because of their back catalogues, is apparently insensitive and a testament to my alcoholic thinking. Doesn’t make it wrong. What does any of it mean? Maybe something, probably nothing. I don’t like satirical songs about coming over here and sharing culture, because I think they’re a dated trope and a cheap sell. I didn’t come here with one culture; I was born here and ostracised by two. I believe that people care, but this industry has painted itself into the corner of a white

room. So no matter your thoughts on this song, remember: the punchline's me but the joke's on you.

All this art, all this art, all this art, all this art