Out of the Dungeon XV

Welcome to Out of the Dungeon, a many part series detailing a decade of NSFTM noise, hip hop, 'n' adventures from top No Sunlite for the Media scholars, historians, fans, 'n' collaborators. Medians share their thoughts on the absolute values of various NSFTM rekkerds, while we provide free audio streaming 'n' hi-quality file purchase of all the albums at our bandcamp page.

Out of the Dungeon XV: Heaven Ounce Won't
It Begins With the First Sample on Hellgrammite
Musings from Trippy
[Hellgrammite can be downloaded here]
[or you could find it on ebay]
[or just gmail:nosunliteforthemedia@gmail.com n get a wax copy]

In a crowded university lecture hall a woman is seated, clenching her fists till her knuckles turn white, pursing her lips with tension, grinding her teeth with desperation. She will not fart in public, at all costs. The man, on the other hand, peers to the left and the right, in search of an audience perhaps, a subtle smile curls the edge of his lips, and he exhales with relief at the satisfaction of letting his body do what it wants to do. For that is what a fart is - your body’s desire, your body’s need! However, it is here that we encounter a unique conundrum - if farting is a natural biological process, with a specific function, how can it be that women, who hold farts in far more than men, have a greater life expectancy than men the world over? Ultimately, the answer is made of ambiguities and near-contradictions, but still, no matter how dense or convoluted the reasoning, the logic comes out solid. “That’s life”, as they say. And “that’s Hellgrammite”, as I say.

[witness the media subversion in the most visible moment of nsftm history:
Hellgrammite appearing in the Washington Post on Record Store Day]

A commonly cited symptom of the digital age is a growing desire for ‘instant gratification’ - access is faster, so is experience. With so much at our fingertips we know what we want, and we want it now; when it doesn’t deliver fast enough, we move on to the next option. This is definitely true. However, one of the many, many things that the digital age means for music is that not only is it easier to make music than ever (so there’s more of it than ever) but people are less limited by their medium - albums exist which take days, even weeks to listen to (literally), tunes are spread out onto dozens of tracks, suites take up entire hard drives…and on and on. It’s worth pointing out that most of this is ‘ambient’, or at the least, ‘instrumental’. But just because we have more does that mean we listen more? Ask a friend, no, ask yourself - do you ever just listen to music? Many people find it boring these days, and music is more and more becoming the compliment to the activity, rather than the activity itself. After all, our time is precious, isn’t it? We have places to be, don’t we? Yes, we do. Yes, our time is precious. And what better to spend it than celebrating life and its meaning through music? All the more reason for music to cut to the chase and communicate succinctly, effectively, and in a way that respects the listener’s time. Hellgrammite is such music. Clocking in at 43 minutes, this single LP wastes no time. NSFTM has always fought the peripheralization of music in our lives, but never as viciously as here. The opening moments will serve as example.

>>"Don't you read the papers?"

"No I prefer to get my information from more reliable sources like rumor and small children. I don’t watch the news, I make it."<<
The record starts with these lines, sampled from one of the most subversive TV shows of all time- “Sledge Hammer”, a “Dirty Harry” parody from the ‘80s, each line totally believable within that original context while also containing a poignant, biting social commentary on the media and violence. It only takes five seconds, but that’s all it takes for No Sunlite to drop knowledge on a variety of topics anyway. Observe.

The first line can stand on its own: a frustrated voice angrily asking, “don’t you read the papers?” The voice is that of unthinking consent to the authority of mainstream press in our society, pleading and frothing out of confused subservience. It could end there, but then Det. Hammer speaks. “No, I prefer to get my information from more reliable sources, like rumor and small children.” His first word - “no” - the defiant response. To many this indicates ignorance, but No Sunlite take it quite literally and seriously. After all, how can one actually believe that the paper you spend 20 minutes reading each morning actually brings you “the world”? It’s absurd. Then he goes on to supply a laugh, “I prefer to get my information from more reliable sources, like rumor and small children.” And it is worth a chuckle - ha! ha! - but once again, No Sunlite are dead serious. The words and actions of those around you are far more important than those of the image that represents a corporate lackey on the television (and if not, then why? At the least it inspires a necessary debate) and especially the words that children speak. Pay attention, take them seriously. And finally, Hammer’s last words, “I don’t watch the news, I make it”, promote individual agency in our media-saturated world. And get me none more pumped.

[the demontree shirt]

We're 5 seconds into the album and NSFTM is already flipping a snippet of cop show dialogue for the purpose of education. I still cannot believe that Hellgrammite, arguably No Sunlite at their most complex and ambitious, is under 45 minutes long. Like intestinal chords, packed comfortably within the lower abdominal cavity, this album contains multitudes that cannot be noticed from a cursory glance (don’t they say the small intestine of each person can be wrapped around the world multiple times?). The inner walls of intestines are lined with villi, which essentially give the lining more surface area to aid digestion. Similarly, the walls of a No Sunlite ‘tract’ are lined with the crackling hiss of a needle on wax, the warm fuzz of dusty magnetic tape, and the hum of 219 nervous systems, buzzing as one. Passing through each ‘tract’ are the digested meals of days gone by - beats which have been thoroughly chewed and swallowed, sapped of all the flavor and nutrients they hold.
Everyone must express. All women and men fart. All Medians sing into cavernous subterranean tunnels, knowing that another is listening further down the line.

-Trippy
Annandale, VA
Feb. 2010
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