Readers, Mr. Ralph Lawson, honcho of one of the world’s most consistently erogenous record labels, 20:20 Vision, has concocted a delicious mix that will stimulate your coital muscles and your urethral openings. Of course, since FTVS first heard Random Factor’s On the Air EP before the millennial turn, Fortuna’s hermaphroditic boner has remained faithfully orthogonal to the 20:20 Vision catalog.
This mix also begs the most important question of this decade: why haven’t more US promoters put their pussies into their proverbial ponytails and coughed up the reasonable fiscal fee to contractually obligate this man to perform on this side of the Atlantic.
FTVS yearns to hear Mr. Lawson at the Standard Rooftop during summer 2010, and the follicles on Fortuna’s vicious vagina stand on end at such a prospect.
FTVS paramours Adultnapper and Mr. C today released their newest collaboration as the Sycophant Slags. This suavely inebriated rocker features the highly-sexed Mr. C’s vocals spreading themselves across Adultnapper’s carnal compression, not unlike a seasoned prostitute taking a stroll on L. Ron Hubbard’s spaceship.
Ariel Danziger is in command of the video, and is quickly becoming an FTVS favorite with a growing casserole of mostly geometric musical movies including Passion Pit’s The Reeling.
The LP is available February 2nd on Steve Bug’s Poker Flat Recordings, and features an ambrosial remix by FTVS’s favorite German beards, the tragically defunct Wighnomy Brothers. Pretend like it’s 2002 and go find the vinyl at your favorite local disc retailer.
A 303 on overdrive is not unlike a flock of prostitutes in a Javanese bordello staring at you on sweaty winter afternoon. More sexual perhaps, but equally invigorating. Congruently, it also brings with it the prospect of satisfying the most perverted and decadent of fetishes, albeit with the sweet prospect of a long-lasting rash and unforgettable itch.
George Bancroft, anticipating the rise of the samplers, and the cheap production techniques from the late 1970s, once wrote “Each generation gathers together the imperishable children of the past, and increases them by new sons of light, alike radiant with immortality.” Sadly, the children of the electronic music past are for the most part a rotting pile of wax curated by your lunatic neighbor who puts peanut butter on his balls on Sunday afternoons.
Exceptions do exist, however, and three of them will be unifying this weekend. Roam Music, together with the inimitable Sublevel, is taking the past by his sagging balls and is bringing you Doc Martin, Michael Cook, and Mark Lewisthis Saturday in a warehouse on the outskirts of downtown Los Angeles. Support from Droog of course guarantees the female attendance at this event will be groundbreaking, and the overall musical curation will be nothing short of completely fuckable. Yes, readers, you will want to penetrate this music and if you consume enough narcotic, we are sure you will find a way to do so.
Music, dear readers, is transcendental only on the rarest of occasions. More frequently, it is just disappointing and not worth the effort, like sex with a white girl.
Unsurprisingly then, FTVS’s musical loins have largely gone sterile and flaccid since discovering Treal Lee and Prince Rick in September of 2009. Nothing compared… Until now.
Indeed, the songs below speak not only to the mind and heart but also the nose and phallus. FTVS’s loins heave like a birthing cow’s utters in response. But do not simply take the FTVS word as bond (although it is, fully bond). Instead, listen to what the indefatigably phrenic populace is saying about “It’s So Cold in the D“:
Datboujie says “da beat qood n da lyrics mad str8 dey jus ain present it qood at all dey suck buh if dey would make it better n more proffessional soundin it would b? mad str8“.
Mzzpennay says “yo..nooo..wtf was dat..? no rlly wat da fuqk was dat…not only did da rappinq sucked but da video jus helped it suck? even worst…no she is banned from rappinq,singinq and video makinq…smdh.” (Editor’s note: SMDH refers to the very subtle phrase, “Suck My Dick Ho”)
Sadly, comments were disabled for the smash hit “Smell Yo Dick”, but only because the public’s reaction was too immense. Google’s server was unprepared.
God damn it readers, the holiday season left FTVS showered in gifts and golden liquid.
As world media outlets reported, FTVS headquartered herself at the Standard Hotel’s Rooftop Bar in Downtown LA on the New Year Evening and New Year Day to sample the offerings of the Culprit family. This sequence of events, extending over thirty-six (36) hours, was certainly the musical and celebratory equivalent to an evening long mouthparty.
The evening at this protruding Angelean structure in the heart of Los Angeles saw FTVS vigorously yet not quite vaginally indulge in a reunion with Mr. C, and of course converse with Mr. Zamias about the progeny of robust facial hair and sweetbaby mustache rides (though neither party remembers). Simultaneously, FTVS did her best not to spill drinks on Lee Foss‘ CDJs. Perhaps most importantly, FTVS was able to conclude that Mr. Andrei Osyka is decisively the most gentlemanly of all gentlemen. His cohort, Mr. Justin Sloe, comes in a close second, lacking only in gallant tenderness and blue eyes. The jury is still out on the third Droog.
Actual photographs and footage shot under the direction of Jack Colt documenting the aforementioned festivities have been confiscated by the Department of Justice. Johnny Cochran is working for FTVS to recover groundbreakingly incriminating materials. Incisive coverage will be revealed in the days to come, once prudence has been revivified. Understand this, you cuntish fiends: FTVS celebrated with extreme prejudice, and did not, as always, forget to not use condoms.
Readers, we are all of common mind when discussing Massive Attack: they are a trinity of sublimity, courtesy of members 3D, Mushroom, and of course Daddy G. [Editor's Note: If you have not let your ears bear witness to Daddy G's DJ Kicks compilation, you are deserving of a swift kick to the testiculars, because it is a facefuckingly good time.]
And Massive Attack is analogous to FTVS insofar as it is bi-racial and groundbreaking. The video below, which is notably unsafe for work but certainly safe for stimulating bloodflow to the phallus, is the most recent item evidencing the band’s continued relevance and girth.
Enjoy, and do not share the video with your children, unless they are very mature.
And on the second day of Christmas, FTVS brings you a Ghostface Killah anthem that is both geometrically and theologically astute.
The lyrics are subtle, implicit and conscious, and through Killah’s symphonious phonetic ironies and nuances, we are able to surmise that perhaps, dear reader, Mr. Ghostface is simply asking us to love one another.
Paired with a video that is a blatantly dedicated envoy to the Women’s Liberation Movement, the combined visual and aural assault makes your coital gland and coital mind explode into sticky fluid, perhaps for more than 24 hours.
The spirit of the holiday season is literally and physically espoused below. Sweet Jesus.
Readers, it is no mystery that Christmas is a time to make love to your family and share genitive sensations with those closest to you. It is a time to stoke and stroke not only your genitals and vaginals, but also your mind and marbles.
And because FTVS considers you all to be parts of Fortuna’s familial whole, we will hereby be presenting you with videographic imagery each and every day leading up to the day Jesus H. Christ was born (December 25, 2009).
To initiate this ceremonial countdown, we bring you FTVS’s favorite evangelical sonnet from the most theistic and scriptural of Germany’s rave philharmonic: Scooter.
Please be sure to witness the proverbial fitness extant at the 2 minute mark of the first video. Ground, dear readers, is broken, and God is surely raving in the heavens above to this melodious Hun music. The subsequent video, added for good and precise measure, provides you with that ancillary driblet of German fruityness that is direly imperative during this recessed holiday season.
Remember, while Fortuna may indeed be a vicious and insurmountable slut, there always remain sentient items to be thankful for, such as the videos below, blowjobs, and garments made from baby seals.
Readers, there is an inherent tragedy in that the youth today have shit taste in electronic music. Perhaps this is so because the adolescents have a poorly construed sense of lineage and genealogy.
Accordingly, peruse the documentary film below, and fellate your understanding of the roots of rave.
This pièce de résistance provides coverage of Liam Howlett, SL2, Kevin Saunderson and Cubic 22. Post Hacienda yet pre-Ministry of Sound, the film focuses upon the most pleasurable of all epochs within electronic music’s antiquity: 1991.
Please note: those of you servile enough to be uninitiated in the ways of SL2 should immediately and relentlessly pursue an investigative voyage into their origin. They are, after all, the Justice of their day, but certainly less sodomizing and irrevocably less French (same difference).
And, dear reader, can you envision a worthier method of instantiating the New Year than with thoughts and actions of oral sex and tinted glass and tender hand claps and girls from the Vice DOs section? No, you simply can not, because there is no worthier methodology.
Accordingly, FTVS strongly and sexually endorses Culprit’s2010 New Year’s Day party atop the Standard Hotel in Downtown LA. To improve matters greatly — an irony considering these matters require no renovation or improvement — the Herculean Punjabs known as Droog are doing their bit to bring geometry and theology to the Los Angeles landscape, DJing the event as well.
FTVS will, of course, be on hand with its cortege and escorts in tow, and anticipates its own threshold of sanity and decency to be rigorously tested.
Paul Valery wrote Les opinions des personnes qui n'ont pas refait leur esprit selon leurs besoins réels et leurs pouvoirs vérifiables -- n'ont aucune importance qualitative. His aphorism captures the will of FTVS to bring to the masses quality, informed, and unapologetic reflections and commentaries on the state, potential state, and future state of the world.
FTVS is BA, KP, and JC. Three educated young men currently residing in the USA who spent the last three years actively studying the human condition by living and traveling together. We have occasionally fornicated with each other's women.
Readers, Mr. Ralph Lawson, honcho of one of the world’s most consistently erogenous record labels, 20:20 Vision, has concocted a delicious mix that will stimulate your coital muscles and your urethral openings. Of course, since FTVS first heard Random Factor’s On the Air EP before the millennial turn, Fortuna’s hermaphroditic boner has remained faithfully orthogonal to the 20:20 Vision catalog.
