/leftymu/

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How come i never hear leftypol talk about Gang of Four?
They refused to change their lyrics to appear on Top of the Pops which denied them stardom and fought with and got fucked over by EMI which is one of the most porky record companies in existence buy hey, I don't need to tell you all of this, just listen to them
m.youtube.com/watch?v=1vPonjXOfYo
m.youtube.com/watch?v=9E4M3U3WG40

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The new Propagandhi album "victory lap"

Suck my fucking dick

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open.spotify.com/user/spaceispotent/playlist/6FWJOs8H6e6gOCWlT2vOkg?si=X-fHE4A2Qr-QI6RyfW9pug
Made a Spotify playlist full of Leftist and Anti-Capitalist open.spotify.com/user/spaceispotent/playlist/6FWJOs8H6e6gOCWlT2vOkg?si=X-fHE4A2Qr-QI6RyfW9pugsongs. I pruned it extensively to attempt for high quality.

Ah fugg. First link

Ya'll should come to the dubtrack, it's ironic arabian socialism hour

dubtrack.fm/join/leftypol-comrades

who? This got my foot a tappin

Phil Ochs was a nice man and I will continue to shill for his memory.

Ringing of Revolution-youtube.com/watch?v=00G1mS_fGWA
Santo Domingo- youtube.com/watch?v=CB4xpqNSYpk
Links on the Chain-
youtube.com/watch?v=MWGH1gKBUrM
Here's to the State of Misssippi-youtube.com/watch?v=K7fgB0m_y2I
Another Age-
youtube.com/watch?v=iP4tZ8p4iwc

Sorry for that shite spacing

Phat Bollard - Millionaires

Burial is the kind of album I’ve dreamt of for years; literally. It is oneiric dance music, a collection of the
‘dreamed songs’ Ian Penman imagined in his epochal piece on Tricky’s Maxinquaye. Maxinquaye would
be a reference point here, as would Pole – like both these artists, Burial conjures audio-spectres out of
crackle, foregrounding rather than repressing sound’s accidental materialities. Tricky and Pole’s
‘cracklology’ was a further development of dub’s materialist sorcery in which ‘the seam of its recording
was turned inside out for us to hear and exult in’ (Penman). But rather than the hydroponic heat of
Tricky’s Bristol or the dank caverns of Pole’s Berlin, Burial’s sound evokes what the press release calls a
‘near future South London underwater. You can never tell if the crackle is the burning static off pirate
radio, or the tropical downpour of the submerged city out of the window.’
Near future, maybe…But listening to Burial as I walk through damp and drizzly South London streets
in this abortive Spring, it strikes me that the LP is very London Now – which is to say, it suggests a city
haunted not only by the past but by lost futures. It seems to have less to do with a near future than with
the tantalising ache of a future just out of reach. Burial is haunted by what once was, what could have
been, and – most keeningly – what could still happen. The album is like the faded ten year-old tag of a
kid whose Rave dreams have been crushed by a series of dead end jobs.
Burial is an elegy for the hardcore continuum, a Memories From the Haunted Ballroom for the Rave
generation. It is like walking into the abandoned spaces once carnivalised by Raves and finding them
returned to depopulated dereliction. Muted air horns flare like the ghosts of Raves past. Broken glass
cracks underfoot. MDMA flashbacks bring London to unlife in the way that hallucinogens brought
demons crawling out of the subways in Jacob’s Ladder’s New York. Audio hallucinations transform the
city’s rhythms into inorganic beings, more dejected than malign. You see faces in the clouds and hear
voices in the crackle. What you momentarily thought was muffled bass turns out only to be the rumbling
of tube trains.
Burial’s mourning and melancholia sets it apart from dubstep’s emotional autism and austerity. My
problem with dubstep has been that in constituting dub as a positive entity, with no relation to the Song
or to pop, it has too often missed the spectrality wrought by dub’s subtraction-in-process. The emptying
out has tended to produce not space but an oppressive, claustrophobic flatness. If, by contrast, Burial’s
schizophonic hauntology has a 3D depth of field it is in part because of the way it grants a privileged role
to voices under erasure, returning to dub’s phono-decentrism. Snatches of plaintive vocal skitter through
the tracks like fragments of abandoned love letters blowing through streets blighted by an unnamed
catastrophe. The effect is as heartbreakingly poignant as the long tracking shot in Tarkovsky’s Stalker
(1979) that lingers over sublime objects-become trash.

Burial’s London is a wounded city, populated by ecstasy casualties on day release from psychiatric
units, disappointed lovers on night buses, parents who can’t quite bring themselves to sell their Rave 12
inches at a carboot sale, all of them with haunted looks on their faces, but also haunting their interpassively
nihilist kids with the thought that things weren’t always like this. The sadness in the Dem 2 meets
Vini Reilly-era Durutti Column ‘You Hurt Me’ and ‘Gutted’ is almost overwhelming. ‘Southern Comfort’
only deadens the pain. Ravers have become deadbeats, and Burial’s beats are accordingly undead – like
the tik-tok of an off-kilter metronome in an abandoned Silent Hill school, the klak-klak of graffitisplashed
ghost trains idling in sidings. 10 years ago, Kodwo Eshun compared the ‘harsh, roaring noise’ of
No U-Turn’s ‘hoover bass’ with ‘the sound of a thousand car alarms going off simultaneously’. The
subdued bass on Burial is the spectral echo of a roar, burned-out cars remembering the noise they once
made.
Burial reminds me, actually, of paintings by Nigel Cooke. The morose figures Cooke graffitis onto his
own paintings are perfect visual analogues for Burial’s sound. A decade ago, jungle and hip hop invoked
devils, demons and angels. Burial’s sound, however, summons the ‘chain-smoking plants and sobbing
vegetables’ that sigh longingly in Cooke’s painting. Speaking at the Tate, Cooke observed that much of
the violence of graffiti comes from its velocity. There’s something of an affinity between the way that
Cooke re-creates graffiti in the ‘slow’ medium of oil paints and the way in which Burial submerges
(dubmerges?) Rave’s hyperkinesis in a stately melancholia. Burial’s dilapidated Afro NoFuturism does for
London in the 00s what Wu Tang did for New York in the 90s. It delivers what Massive Attack promised
but never really achieved. It’s everything that Goldie’s Timeless ought to have been. It’s the Dub City
counterpart to Luomo’s Vocalcity. Burial is one of the albums of the decade. Trust me.

These /leftymu/ threads are so fucking autistic. You guys want to force anything to be left. Just post music you fucking like no matter if it's leftist or not.
NIN is patrician and Year Zero is underrated as fuck

The absolute state.

On another topic I am rediscovering the band Genitorturers thanks to of all things a videogame (replayed Vampire The Masquerade Bloodlines recently). A very good industrial metal band:
youtube.com/watch?v=PlZeN2wFh1s
youtube.com/watch?v=2asVy3RT458
youtube.com/watch?v=nauoyrdf2kc

K

youtube.com/watch?v=3rcyAF4lz04
youtube.com/watch?v=Ug7DZG1F6bs

One of my all time favorite songs
youtube.com/watch?v=qiaF4kuxJco

I feel like Toby Keith is pretty leftist because of his messages about the working class, and hard work, and not expecting a handout. It’s like hymns that uplift the proletariat, and if you take them to heart it can instill a good work ethic inside you. Just because were workers doesn’t mean someday we can’t have an expensive truck, or a big country house with a garage. We just have to try harder, because this country, and many others were built on hard work.

I don't know what's real and what's bait around here anymore.