Music is a lot like food. Sure, we don't need it to survive, but we need it to live. It's like the difference between being outside, rolling in some mud and chasing people with sticks versus being in a coma in an iron lung. Music is the proverbial stick and all the fun bashing it on your neighbour's shin it provides. Now, WSDT doesn't specialize in much. Anything, actually. We're a bunch of kids with an acronym. We don't even live close to each other. This blog is a mere facade, we're not even a team. We don't have jerseys or sponsors. Most of us don't even play sports. I personally watch from the sidelines and smoke cigarettes. Sure I get all the women that way, but there's no I in team. Just a ME, and it's lonely. And it also can't cook. But it's the thought that counts, motherfucker, and I will spill my playlist all over this site, so open wide and swallow that shit - because music doesn't give you food poisoning.
Now, everyone likes a good old fashioned meal, the kind with no consequences in the morning, such as "the shits". Good old fashioned meals like chicken noodle soup. In my personal musical terminology, the chicken noodle soup will represent all the mainstream music. It's the kind that you can blare loudly from your car and people won't even notice it because their radio is playing the same song. Kinda like the smell of a Big Mac coming from your roommate's room. You're all like, "and?" Then suddenly, BOOM, your olfactory sensors are going fucking bananas! There's something in the air, what the fuck is it? It's so...so...
God damn, is GB ever spicy. You listen to that shit and then you go and take an actual shit and it hurts so good. You're like GYPSIES!? SHIIIIIT! JAMAICANS? SHIIIIIIIIIIT! BROOKLYN?!? SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT. Next thing you know, everything in your house is covered in shit and for some reason you're smiling.
But spicy ain't for some of you. I understand that. Some of you have tongues made for licking pussy and not eating nachos. I understand that. You fancy pants metrosexuals with you piercings. Get a tattoo. Or better yet, listen to something that doesn't burn but still packs a punch. What you need is something...
Like the first time you bit into a solid brick of cheese while mom wasn't looking and then blamed it on the "mouses", Warsawpack is music laced with what I can only describe as "thick". And I know every motherfucker out there loves thick. Especially Kris. Juicy would work too, but it's much more, well, bolder than that. It's sexy, loud, thick and juicy. It's the kind of meal you chew slowly and then burp in people's face.
Muyinza.
You ass.
What? WHAT!? You can't HANDLE bold? Oh, you can? Oh, you love it? You love it a lot? Well, then tough guy, have a bite of this? OH SNAP! Hahaha, it tastes like a cheeseburger you say? But it looks like pizza, huh? Man, that's fucking...
Richard Cheese is fucking awesome. And quite coincidentally, his name has food in it. That's some fucking tarot shit there, motherfucker. This guy is so wacky, if wacky was hands, he'd be wacking off forever. It's like fondue, the best of everything tossed into one pot and made smooth.
Getting full? Well shove a digit or two down the old windpipe cuz I got shit flying off the menu like it's a motherfucking soup kitchen. Next up is a sick meal you wanna eat in the sun with a big tall glass of juice, as naked women play volleyball, their sun kissed breasts jiggling with every spike. Just thinking about it makes my balls...
I know you've heard of these guys, and I didn't come here with the intention of introducing you to new bands. Just sweet bands. Bands of different sorts. Bands I haven't heard in a while. Bands like Sublime. I mean, when's the last time you ate pretzels? I love pretzels. I ate an assload over the years, they're cool shit. It's just that, for some reason, I haven't had some in a long time. So here you go, assholes. Here's some Sub.
While you're at it, fudgepacker, open up that giant can of whoop ass. What's that, two cans? How's that one? WATERY?! WATERY AS FUCK!? FUCK THAT APECUM, DICKSHIT, GIMME THE ONE THAT'S...
"That's some chunky-ass shit!"Wynona's Big Brown Beaver (WMA file, no streaming audio, DL that shit)
God damn, that bass makes me think of meat balls. That's balls of god damn meat. I swear, whenever I eat a meatball, I just feel like the biggest motherfucker alive. If I had some chunky ass meatballs hooked up to an IV and jammed into my vein, I could kick anybody's ass 50 times.
Ooh, god damn. Ate like 6 plates or something. BRB.
Phew, holy fuck. I don't know how much of that was shit and how much was organs. Anyways, considering I just shit out half of Canada (not including Quebec, it's been floating in there already and someone forgot to flush, har hee har fucking French) I'm kinda hungry again. Let's see, hmmm. Nah, don't feel like no Beastie Boys, I already had some spicy. Fuck Minsitry, I can't handle anymore boldness. I'll get a god damn ulcer or something. Man, I've had all this shit! I don't wanna god damn meal, I want a...
"Strangely enough, snacks and the metaphorical "snack" music go well with weed. Go figure."Whoa, holy fucking fuck, what's that? WHAT IS THAT?! Leee...lieeeee....liiiiighghghg....liiiightning bawlt? What's this some Zanzibar shit, I can't even...ohh, Lightning Bolt! Fuck, that's some good shit! It's like, all over the place, like some sour cream BBQ chips with the works, crumbling all over my wife beater and getting my fingers all greasy. Mmm-MM, motherfucker. Delicious.
Anyone got a Coke?
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