In the Daylight

Meet Myth, a growly motherphucker who prefers to haunt us in the harsh daylight of our existence.  Hold onto your mind and prepare for that three-minute swell.   …aaaaaahhhh.

UPDATE: He’s back with a scrubby VIP.  These extra wobbles are exactly what we need to get our blood boiling.

Frickin A

Frickin A (noun)
A curse referring to the mammal known as an aardvark.
Back in the day, people would go rabbit hunting and they would see stuff moving in the field and shoot it. But then upon inspection of their quarry, it’d just be an aardvark and they’d be like, “fuckin aardvark.”
The zoologist exclaimed, “its not an aas, its a frickin A!”
 (Courtesy of Urban Dictionary–where else?)
Aaaaand with that we give you lots of Subbassa.  Happy Monday, let the weekly struggle begin.


When an earthquake shakes the ground beneath us, we start running.  When a bassline shakes the same ground–with the same magnitude–we start laughing and raging.

We broke in a new subwoofer the other day (150 inches–is that legal???) and every single window crumbled to dust.  Beach-quality sand, we shit you not.   And we’re not complaining about the bill at all–it’s fucking summer and we’re making a mufucking BEACH.  Win-win, friends.

Aaaanyway onto the culprate behind our man-made beach: KELLY DEANNNNNNNNN.

This sinister producer guarantees rage-lash (aka rage-induced whiplash) and irregular heart palpitations with every track.  We’re more than excited to show you two of our favorites: King ShitErryoody Knows Me.

Don’t feel gangster enough for those names?  After one listen, you’ll be ready to beat your best friend into a pulp.  Since we’re calling our broken glass is a beach …we’ll call this pulp a compost.  Yee.  That’s some eco-friendly violence right there.

Now get crunk:


The creepy crawlers lead the way, creating a slimy path for the creatures of the underworld that follow.  We watch from afar as an army of unworldly beings process through the heavy night air, transfixed by the steam that rises from their shoulders and the molten lava that flows from their soles; burning their footprints into the horror-tainted soil.  We want to run, but we have lost control of our minds and our hypnosis draws us to the beasts.  Where are they going?  What do they seek?  We find ourselves stepping in line and our feet slowly begun to ooze lava.

Where are we going and what do we seek?  Come with us.  Find out.

This fantasy brought to you by Subbassa The X-Files.