Dr. Socktopus Presents “Mission Statement, Part I: Duncan Hines Super Moist”

HELLO INTERNET. Greetings and salutations from your most favorite erudite cephalopod. I don’t really know how this is supposed to go, so I fully intend to freestyle it like table-side guacamole or Operation Enduring Freedom. Ideally I will drop sixty thousand gallons of auditory acumen on you, the (un)suspecting public, with as much restraint as is possible given the current price of oil* and my plummeting blood sugar levels. Hol’ up; I need a warm up track. Here we go…

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What’s good woadie?

KNOW YE ALL WHO ENTER THE LAIR OF THE MOIST GRAFFITI. In truth the eggs of this blog testament were laid in my brain some years ago, but were prevented from hatching into the pupae of truth due to my accidental enrollment in grad school. Said era of limitless suffering has since passed, however, and the time is more right than ever for a re-imagination of musical journalism.

STRANGE WINDS BLOW ACROSS YON INTERWEBS. One wonders what models of lonely androids write this stuff, it being such a primitive way to communicate about something as indescribable as music. But many certainly try. The following is a brief indictment of the current state of musical journalism. Naysayers please direct your mail bombs and twitter sassmouth to https://twitter.com/MoistGraffiti. But actually, just bottle up your angst inside and translate it into a righteous finger painting session with your therapist, because #IDGAFAboutYourFeelingsthanksdadforruiningmy6thbirthdayparty.

WHY IS ARIEL PINK DATING MILEY’S ANDROID BUTLER?

A STATE OF DISCORD STALKS THE LAND. Sins run deep like old chicken salad amongst major sources of music news. Some, perhaps named after the crude tools of our agrarian forebears, substitute arcane language and fetishized obscurity for honest assessments, all bundled in unipolar ratings. Ooh, what dis is? A well-meaning indie album? How charming! THREE POINT THREE. DOOM. But what’s this?! Two grimy dudes from Portland rhyming over the sound of a microphone jammed into a Cuisinart blender? KimYe** spoken word duets about their mutual love of Balenciaga accessories? NINE POINT NINE–

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Definitely going to catch some Tumblr hate for this one.

Sixteen tracks of Killer Mike rapping over the mating songs of a humpback whale pod? WAIT. I’d actually listen to that.

Other outlets obfuscate their insecurities with a miasma of overdeveloped vernacular and A LOT OF CAPITAL LETTERS LIKE ITS THE BEST THING SINCE MSG. SOMETIMES THEY EVEN SCRIBE ENTIRE SCROLLS IN ALL CAPS HASHTAG INSTRAGRAM HASHTAG SWEET BRUH. I LIKE MSG ON MY TACOS TOO, BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I SPRINKLE IT IN MY COFFEE, NAHMSAYIN? ON THAT NOTE, PLEASE USE YOUR INSIDE VOICE WHEN YOU ARE WITHIN THE HALLS OF THE MOIST GRAFFITI. GRACIAS. THAT MEANS THANK YOU.

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FORTUNATELY,  I AM NOT ALONE ON THIS (UN)HOLY QUEST. Others have been thawed out from their stasis chambers deep beneath the earth where Charlemagne hid them 1,000 years ago this very night. They will materialize in due time and lend their specialized genius to the battle for the interwebs. Until then, be contented in your most suety of hearts and know that a veritable renaissance is being constructed deep within the dungeons of the Moist Graffiti.

THE MOIST GRAFFITI MIGHT BE FOR YOU IF: (a) Psalm 31:11*** describes your taste in music; (b) your name is not Chase, Price, or Bryce; (c) you strongly considered leaving earth forever after listening to Yeezus for the first time; and/or (d) you find the thought of Suge Knight being out of jail terrifying (it’s k I do too).

THE MOIST GRAFFITI MIGHT NOT BE FOR YOU IF: (a) You thought Take Care was the “best” “hip-hop” “album” since American Gangster; (b) you enjoy the company of dolphins and their ex-felon cousins, porpoises; (c) you consider the peak of your life to be the time that you met Win Butler mid-pedicure at a nail salon in Montreal; and/or (d) you frequently use the term “ratchet” ironically or not.

Existential blatherings aside, I guess Imma have to provide some actual journalism in the near future. Stay tuned for a review of a certain diatribe-laced ghetto blaster to commence soonish, and thank you for listening.

Your F(r)iend,
Doc Socks

*Brent Crude only. None of that WTI business.

**A topic we will revisit after I get back on my blood pressure meds.

*** NIV or GTFO.

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