Guess the next album theme?

[Alcofribas]

New BOC album theme:

 

So there's this old lady who lives in the woods. She's just trying to learn max/msp before she dies. One night as she sits over her MacBook in a room lit only by a rustic oil lamp, she hears a snapping of twigs from just outside the window. Her cursor hovers over a load bang as she turns her head and squints her old beady elderly eyes looking out the window. A shadowy figure, like a shadow, moves creepily out of sight. She calls her dog but he is dead. She hasn't had a dog in many years. Now she is frightened. She wonders if she has dementia. It wouldn't be the first time. Wait, yes it would. Only some one with dementia would think that. She calls her dog again but totally remembers he's dead just as she begins saying his name but she has ocd so she has to complete the full name anyway. "Marcus," she calls. Just then a detuned synth chord plays, a wash-out melancholy sound. It seems to come from the chimeny. She quickly lights a fire and the crackling embers become a sample to accompany the dreary chord. She feels very nostalgic now. Some whispering can be heard. The voices are pitched down and have a deep flanger effect with lots of feedback but placed in the mix of fire and chord so that she can't quite make out everything that is said. Some words do emmerge: "night," "orange," "heat," and some recited numbers and assorted children's voices. The shadow creeps through the window. In a creepy voice it requests a hip hop beat, something laid back with crunchy 12 bit drum samples. The old woman had not prepared such a thing in her max studies. She skypes her long lost, estranged son. "Michael" she says, "I'm here in the woods with this shadow. Do you think you have any cool old beats lying around?" He plays one right then and there and it's so dope. The shadow is most pleased. When it is concluded the voices slowly dissolve, the mellow chord fades away and the old hag sits quietly alone listening to the crackling fire. She stares into the flame and says to herself "I'm old."

 

That is track one.

[Guest]

Alco have you considered becoming president of the USA?

[Alcofribas]

yes of course

[sunshine recorder]

they should tour as john carpenters backing band on his upcoming scheduled dates(manchester,pleeeaaase!!)

[orchard disk]

field recordings of them burning people alive while they play new music in the background.

[apriorion]

New BOC album theme:

 

So there's this old lady who lives in the woods. She's just trying to learn max/msp before she dies. One night as she sits over her MacBook in a room lit only by a rustic oil lamp, she hears a snapping of twigs from just outside the window. Her cursor hovers over a load bang as she turns her head and squints her old beady elderly eyes looking out the window. A shadowy figure, like a shadow, moves creepily out of sight. She calls her dog but he is dead. She hasn't had a dog in many years. Now she is frightened. She wonders if she has dementia. It wouldn't be the first time. Wait, yes it would. Only some one with dementia would think that. She calls her dog again but totally remembers he's dead just as she begins saying his name but she has ocd so she has to complete the full name anyway. "Marcus," she calls. Just then a detuned synth chord plays, a wash-out melancholy sound. It seems to come from the chimeny. She quickly lights a fire and the crackling embers become a sample to accompany the dreary chord. She feels very nostalgic now. Some whispering can be heard. The voices are pitched down and have a deep flanger effect with lots of feedback but placed in the mix of fire and chord so that she can't quite make out everything that is said. Some words do emmerge: "night," "orange," "heat," and some recited numbers and assorted children's voices. The shadow creeps through the window. In a creepy voice it requests a hip hop beat, something laid back with crunchy 12 bit drum samples. The old woman had not prepared such a thing in her max studies. She skypes her long lost, estranged son. "Michael" she says, "I'm here in the woods with this shadow. Do you think you have any cool old beats lying around?" He plays one right then and there and it's so dope. The shadow is most pleased. When it is concluded the voices slowly dissolve, the mellow chord fades away and the old hag sits quietly alone listening to the crackling fire. She stares into the flame and says to herself "I'm old."

 

That is track one.

 

 

Holy fucking hell this is the BEST. I cannot wait to hear this album.

[Alcofribas]

A young man walks through a deserted landscape. Around him curves a brook which creates an odd, somewhat artificial babbling sound as though the water were made of soft crumpled paper. The batteries in his cool Sony Walkman run low and a subtle ominous atmosphere emerges from the warbles and murmurs of the soft synthesizer music and soothing lecture sounds of his self help cassette. At his feet he sees mysterious metal objects, covered in rust and black-green slime. A piece about the size of an envelope leans upon a mossy broken branch. He picks it up. Beneath the prickly rust and damp slime he can make out letters; a word or partial word: "Kai[....]ndustr[...]".
He tosses it back down and it makes an unexpected, muffled percussive sound like an old barrel splashing into a far away pool. The echo is a soft reverb with a long predelay. He pushes on. Overhead a small flock of birds flies in an occult pattern and as one of them emits a cry he hears, or at least he thinks he does, a woman's voice let out a truncated sound. He looks around him but he sees no one and is alone. As he advances he begins to find more metallic debris scattered amidst the shallow puddles and muddy grass. Suddenly he hears a hum or drone, a deep sound like a chord but tuned in a curious fashion. In the grass ahead he notices a cluster of stones which reveal themselves to be arranged in a circle, large enough to enclose several people. Much debris can be seen scattered around the circumference of the stone ring but within is nothing but untouched, beautifully green lush grass. As he steps inside the circle a truly soothing chord is heard, a warm pad smoothly surrounding him like a silky wind. He has a fleeting recollection of a childhood happiness. A shiny object can be seen in the center of the circle. He approaches. It is a ring. As he bends to pick it up all the sounds around him quickly fade to a hush. He picks up the ring and is startled to see it is attached to a rock which opens in the ground as he pulls it up revealing a damp dark staircase descending under the earth. Far below he can hear muffled beats, various voices and what sounds like ocassional billiard balls clanking together. A smokey aroma mingles with the earthy smell of damp grass and soil. He thinks it is Nag Champa but simply cannot be sure.

This is track 2. It is 7 minutes long.

[Ivan Ooze]

best revieaw of listening to bod on salvia

[YangYing]

alco maxing out the boc subforum

[Candiru]

An alternate reality where marshmallows are mined like diamonds by albino aboriginals with telepathic powers in the 1950's in Cuba and the subsequent corrupt takeover by the FBI. There will be a track about J Edgar Hoover's pantyhose that sounds like Kpop meets Ornette Coleman.

[tec]

lol alco

[goDel]

this is now an alco-thread.

 

*waits for track 3*

 

(it's a good thing there won't be another new boc in years... hehe)

[Alcofribas]

a woman sits in a high window looking out across the grey sky, over rooftops, nearly at the level of the thin dull clouds. rain scatters across the window in random splashes. far below human life can be seen only through the colored roofs of cars hastily escorting those inside. animals hide in inexplicable places. birds rest quietly and almost unseen in the trees. the woman lights a thin, dark cigarette. the match strikes and echoes in a semi-metallic gated reverb with almost no tail. the soft sound of the flame mingles with the crackling of tobacco leaves and paper. the low end is rolled off entirely. she opens the window slightly and breaths out a creamy wave of smoke that disappears instantly into the grey air outside, micro uniting with the macro. as though through a gradually opened filter the rain drops sound through the open window now more clear and sharp. a compressor seems involved. from a distant and familiar point far off in the invisible landscape emerges a bell tone, all the high end submerged in the fog and atmosphere.

 

track 3 is 1:13 long.

[t yst r]

You put a smile on my face more than once. Hope this is a double album.

[Alcofribas]

in a dimly lit room sits a man at a worn, dark table. on the table sits the only source of light, a short fat candle, beside which sits a box of matches and some crumpled bits of dirty paper. beyond the edges of the table the room fades into deep shadow and darkness. the man reaches under his chair and removes a tape recorder and some spools of 1/4" tape from his rucksack. he places them on the table. under the dull sounds of the objects being placed on the wooden surface the man suddenly notices a faint droning sound, like a choir many rooms away. he winds the tape into the machine. in the small dark room the sounds strike him as harsh and make him annoyed and vulnerable. he clicks the tape into play mode and from under the plastic grate the speaker emits a warbling sound like lazy animal. the sound is barely audible through the hiss. suddenly the machine begins to smoke slightly and as the thin grey tendrils float ominously above his head into the realm of darkness he becomes afraid. in the recording he hears a voice submerged in the his and rough noises. the voice is a woman's, counting. there is a strange flanging effect that lends the voice a demonic quality. it gets louder, the recording becomes more distorted, the counting begins to defy reason ("sixty ten?"). and then the candle flickers for a split second before going out. the tape end and he hears the spool momentarily circling in place. from a corner behind him he hears a new sound. it is not a recording. it is in the room. it is a voice. "can..." "caaannnnaaa..." "caaaannnnnnnnnnnn....." "cccaaaaannnnaaaaaaad...."

 

track 4 is 2:56

[Joyrex]

Alcofribas for WATMM Scribe™

[Twelvetrees]

*fades in* oohweeyahng....ohweeyahng...ohweeyahng...tahhhhm is a flattttt circle....tahhhhm is flattt...flatttt is circehhhhhllllll....ohweeyahng...ojweeyahng *fades out*

 

Track title: Sunset Rider

[Alcofribas]

there is a ritual. 3 women in robes shake incense around in that thing from eyes wide shut. a nude man plays an akai s1000 in the center of a circle. the beats are crunchy. the carpet is a deep dark blood red. one woman paints a triangle on the wall. one the next wall a triangle. the next a circle. in the center of the fourth wall is a door. the man presses a key on his midi controller. "urder hi" is heard. he shudders. a sick beat can be heard beyond the doorway, muffled, LPF as fuck. it comes closer. wisps of smoke begin to make their way into the room and just as the women begin to chant my fucking piece of shit mom opens the door, turns on the lights to the basement and asks me if i can please clean the dishes fuck yuou mother i am having an experience down there and i can do them later can't you just leave me alone i'll get a job when i'm ready do you think picasso's mom was always ragging on him to gget a job you stupid ignoramus fuck.

[psn]

Thank you!

[Ivan Ooze]

florence and the mestruating machine

[hello spiral]

Cock and ball torture

[mcbpete]

gabber mastered on a c90 tape

[sunshine recorder]

grow your own...

[Joyrex]

there is a ritual. 3 women in robes shake incense around in that thing from eyes wide shut. a nude man plays an akai s1000 in the center of a circle. the beats are crunchy. the carpet is a deep dark blood red. one woman paints a triangle on the wall. one the next wall a triangle. the next a circle. in the center of the fourth wall is a door. the man presses a key on his midi controller. "urder hi" is heard. he shudders. a sick beat can be heard beyond the doorway, muffled, LPF as fuck. it comes closer. wisps of smoke begin to make their way into the room and just as the women begin to chant my fucking piece of shit mom opens the door, turns on the lights to the basement and asks me if i can please clean the dishes fuck yuou mother i am having an experience down there and i can do them later can't you just leave me alone i'll get a job when i'm ready do you think picasso's mom was always ragging on him to gget a job you stupid ignoramus fuck.

LOOOOL

[Guest transmisiones ferox]

flat earth theory