Goblin Cock: Traumanaut
Tax included.
I called him a petulant child, which was short-sighted, as a child can grow and learn from its mistakes, whereas Lord Phallus, my boss, has been creating the same problems for himself over and over again for more generations than I even know.
"BLAAAHH" he keeps repeating between slams of his head down into his child-sized desk.
"Why do you even HAVE a desk?" I immediately regret asking, knowing full well that its actual use is so that there's something stable for him to stand upon while screaming pronouncements.
"It's so I have something to stand on while I scream pronouncements!" he yells while climbing.
Good lord.
"I AM SAD!" he proclaims.
"Everyone with half a brain is sad right now, you idiot," I tell him, "you are not special."
"IT IS PRECISELY BECAUSE OF THIS THAT I AM SO UPSET!" and continues, teetering slightly, "It's like when you stay up in bed all night wasting your time worrying about death and how you've been too tired during the day to enjoy your life."
"Listen," I say, "We've got to turn something in to explain this record."
"YOUR WORLD IS A STUPID PLACE RUN BY STUPID PEOPLE!"
"Nevertheless, you are one of them," I return and read him the following...
Lord Phallus is a becloaked non-presence in a band of similarly vague personas, purposefully nebulous, but whereas their many imitators use this as an excuse to deepen some bankable lore, the members of Goblin Cock truly wish to be ignored.
"EGO-DEATH?" Lord Phallus has been known to decry, "SOUNDS LIKE SOME NARCISSISTIC BULLSHIT TO ME!"
TRAUMANAUT is the newest LP (4th, 5th, or even 7th, depending who you ask) and sounds like a breath of unexpectedly fresh air, especially from such a quagmire of neurosis as this guy.
At times so personal sounding that any normal songwriter might go to ridiculous lengths to distance themselves from its honesty.
"That'll work," he intones, then jumps off his desk and escapes into the air to grab the darkest tea he can find, despite the fact that no coffee shop will be open for hours, and that he has left his wallet behind.
- Flowers Grow
- A Tracing of Angels
- On the Night You Left
- Fifth Reich Bio-Dome
- Remains
- Fatigue Fatigue
- Open Carry Dipshit
- Blame the Roses
- Tenter
- Two Swords
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