Reviving the Apparently Dead
Like rock? Like metal? Like sex? Pencils down, class. At this point, you've maybe heard ten seconds... If you answered no to all of the questions, sign off now. Live your life as you were. Being a proud member of the single most bland and robotic subfractional shard of humanity, you don't deserve to be a part of this. Twenty seconds... if you answered yes to any of the questions, welcome to the future. You've heard Kim Dylla for twenty five seconds and she's stuck in your head. She's so innocent and exposed, and it seems so effortless and honest. Terrific look, clearly no performance anxiety issues, and you may not even suspect at this point what is about to befall you. Forty seconds... Then it hits, and it's too late. It's a trap, and you bought it, just like everybody does the first time they hear THISMEANSYOU. Now you're stuck in their design. Fresh, exquisitely constructed, cunning and ferocious, so wonderfully ALIVE and not a twitch out of place. You see now why the rock mags taunt other acts by telling their fans to go hear THISMEANSYOU instead. Fifty seconds. You have now forgotten everything you thought you knew about new rock, metal, and sex. Don't fret over it; it didn't matter anyway. It's irrelevant now. THISMEANSYOU will never be mistaken for any lesser species. They will never fall through the cracks in the soundscape or be caught treading water. They need no faux-religious allegory or cartoonish horror movie imagery to make you feel just a little bit dirty along with the rush. Imagine if... no, nevermind. Don't imagine. You can't imagine it. All you can possibly do is testify. Bear witness and follow.