The Shadow reporting. . .
Columbus – As we all know, when Decanus Picto was abducted by aliens and sold into slavery, by spotted chicks from Venus, he started composing music in his spare time, because 12-foot pot plants tend to have that effect on people. Well, those compositions have finally seen the light of day. That is, because The Fat Kid (who should be fired. I’m just saying. . .) was unavailable, the release date and release party actually came and went with no coverage by Bluezer0. So, way to drop the ball on that one, fatty. I hope your snotty paycheck was worth it. Like he’s better than me because he pays taxes. . .
The cover art for Decanus’s new album, Long Tokes at the Gravity Well, available here.
Anyway, the point is, Decanus’s record has been released, and much ballyhooed and so on. A reviewer has already said this:
It is rare indeed that a present-day record can compare favorably with Beethoven's ninth, let alone the monolithic fifth, but if there is a record that can stand such comparison, it is Long Tokes at the Gravity Well. Combine the emotional/intuitive compositional prowess of Beethoven (because he is far to [sic] warm to be compared to the icy Mozart) with the virtuosity of John 5 or Buckethead, and you have Decanus Picto. Tokes has the structure of a fully-formed, though short - there are three distinct movements - symphony. Plus it's like beep. Beep. Boop. That's awesome, right? And it's about, you know. . . outer space. Look for more from this up-and-coming revolutionary young artist. And prepare for the paradigm shift that will bear his name - Decanism.
So, you know, it looks like it’s the double bomb. Pick it up for like three bucks here.
Columbus’s famous Triad Lounge, location of the release party for Decanus’s new record, Long Tokes at the Gravity Well, should be familiar to BZ readers. In 2007, the Triad was the location of The Shadow’s own release party for his book, Bright Clouds, Dark Shadows.
So, about the release party, I asked around, but I couldn’t really find anything out about that. That is, instead of continuing with my important work connected to last year’s Third Avenue Saucer Crash, I stood around outside the Triad Lounge like Joan fucking Rivers trying to find people who remember what happened there on the eighteenth of May. And, yeah, there was no one who even knew what I was talking about. So, my bad on that. Or, The Fat Kid’s bad. Fuck him.
And on a side note, those of you who thought the saucer crash story had fizzled out are wrong. I know where they took it. And as soon as I get out of this halfway house, I’m going to see it.
