#reshapes what was otherwise just two 21 year old friends

[loverboydotcom]

my brain is mush so i cant write prose but do know that i as usual am thinking about best friend dynamics and caretaking dynamics, and the way they integrate in beau and bobby’s relationship arc, and what it means to not just require increasing levels of daily care but to receive it from the person who’s always been your peer, the same guy you grew up with and experienced teenagehood and adolescence with, and now you need him in a vulnerable way you never expected to need from anyone, and how them being best friends shapes that caretaking dynamic in both positive and negative ways, but ultimately in the end it integrates with that friendship and deepens their bond in a way nobody could understand but just them

[reflektormag]

The Voidz refine their eccentric sound on sophomore album ‘Virtue’

Dylan Harkin

On the first track of his side project, Julian Casablancas + The Voidz’ 2014 debut Tyranny, The Strokes frontman unapologetically declared, ‘This is not for everybody, this is for nobody.’ Such a lyric, underlined by the dissonant and cheerless Escape From New York-via-8-Bit Blag Flag musical backing of his collaborators, served as a defiant mission statement for the entire album. Casablancas, ever a self-conscious and self-reflexive musician, minced no words and wasted no time in asserting that those searching for more of the deceptively simple, sassy singalong rock that established The Strokes as one of the most popular and preeminent groups of the 00s Indie Rock scene should look elsewhere (probably in the series of albums released by his bandmate Albert Hammond Jr.). Instead, they were warned to strap in for a maximalist slugging of the senses, wherein one of the most adventurous and creative composers of the 21st Century pushed every single aesthetic element that he had been utilising and pursuing throughout his entire career - incorporation of bizarre, well-crafted harmonies, unhinged aggression, goofy, yet infinitely lovable and resonant, lyrics - to their breaking point, which was, it turns out, also their ultimate point. For those paying attention to Casablancas’ career trajectory, it became abundantly clear from Tyranny’s slimy, abrasive, anti-Spectorian Walls of Sound, that, after being stifled and repressed by the more collaborative nature of the process behind The Strokes two latter day albums (he wrote and arranged almost all of the tracks on the group’s first three LPs), the Voidz project was the fulfilment of Casablancas’ desire to follow his vision no matter how alienating the results were; somewhat perversely and self-indulgently, the album was made to satisfy just one person: its creator.

Arriving three and a half years later, Virtue, the sophomore effort of the group (now just wearing the moniker The Voidz, as if to dismiss claims that it is a ‘side project’ in the traditional sense) is the anti-Tyranny. All that unbridled experimentation and exploration has been distilled into something that is much more recognizable and palatable. Although artistically, it's coming from the same place fundamentally, Casablancas and his new group, have purposefully tamed the unwieldy beast of creativity, presenting the results of their exploration in a much more neatly presented package so that their audience can enjoy what they discovered as much as they did.

While Tyranny sounded jet black, maybe navy blue or crimson in its brightest moments, the fifteen songs that comprise Virtue, with their new wave sheen-meets-chic lo-fi production, form an iridescent sonic rainbow. The Voidz, working playfully in a number of genres as disparate as 80s Arabic Electropop (‘QYURRYUS’), Sabbath-esque Sludge Metal (‘Pyramid of Bones’), Strokes-esque Pop (‘Leave it in My Dreams’), Hip Hop-tinged Pop (‘ALieNNatioN’), and Folk (‘Think Before You Drink’), filter their schizophrenic, demented leanings through something that was not present at all on their debut record: good old-fashioned, entertaining, post-post-ironic fun.

Importantly, they do so with musical proficiency, and while it may be blasphemous to fans of the more established and popular of the two Casablancas-led bands, it must be said that The Voidz make The Strokes look like the garage band they always were. Several players in the group are virtuosos (Amir Yhagmai on guitar cannot only shred when required, but employs highly-inventive, unorthodox techniques on standouts like ‘QYURRYUS’, while Alex Carapetis, a revelation, on drums, plays an exhilarating percussion solo on ‘We’re Where We Were’, and is expressive, though in-the-pocket, throughout). The rest are unique, highly-creative players (Jeramy ‘Beardo’ Gritter’ – guitar, Jake Bercovici – Synths and Bass, Jeff Kite – Keyboards). The versatility of each of these former session musicians allows for Virtue to be one of the most cohesive non-cohesive albums since The Beatles’ White Album (Casablancas recently noted that he prefers his albums to sound like mixtapes, rather than Albums.) While relatively-lacklustre, uninspired cuts such as Lazy Boy, Black Hole, and Leave it in My Dreams are simply too bland to not stick out on an album that features a track like ‘QYURRYUS’, they still remain interesting due to quirky guitar solos and the dynamic rhythm section; the commitment of the musicians and brilliance of the musicianship tie the album together deftly.

Casablancas, too, unsurprisingly rises to the standards set by the group, sounding more engaging and skillful than even his youthful self on Is This It seventeen years ago. By way of studio trickery to achieve many vocal effects, the frontman also sounds like a different singer on nearly every song, adapting to the requirements of the genre in a similar way to his bandmates.

Lyrically, Casablancas is still concerned with the Big Questions: What Does Human Existence Matter?; When Will Society Wake Up To The Corruption That Proliferates It?; Why Is Ed Sheeran Popular When Aerial Pink, and (lowkey) The Voidz, Aren’t? When read on the page, his musings on existentialism, politics, morality, and culture are often laughable, but that’s the point; they don’t exist on the page, they’re designed for The Voidz’ off-kilter music, for which they are wholly appropriate. Indeed, Casablancas can spout an hilariously-artless line like ‘Just because something’s popular don’t mean it’s good’ or hyperbolically compare the current state of race relations in the US to that of ‘Germany’ in ‘1939,’ and it can work due to the overall kitschy-ness of the Voidz aesthetic; context is everything. Apart from an unremarkable acoustic cover of an obscure, socially-conscious song by Michael Cassidy, ‘Think Before You Drink,’ Casablancas never plays it straight, and neither do the Voidz.

For all the talk of working proficiently within genre, the innovations that characterize Virtue cannot be ignored. The album is one which conflates mainstream aesthetics with innately-uncommercial elements. Everything from production choices (check the grating, disintegrated snare sound and overly-stoned vocals on the otherwise accessible ‘Wink’), songwriting and structure (the outlandish, futuristic, effect-slathered verses of ‘My Friend the Walls’ contrast more than sharply with the trite, endlessly-catchy ‘whoa-oh-oh’s in the chorus), and tracklist sequencing (the dreamy opener ‘Leave it in My Dreams segues jarringly into ‘QYURRYUS,’ a song that will send many fans of Is This It diving for the skip button on Spotify), demonstrate and embody this aesthetic of hybridity. And, such an aesthetic is a highly-interesting, warm, and amusing one. Thus, the political messages put forth by Casablancas, and the stranger musical elements, become infinitely easier to digest.

Virtue, unlike Tyranny, does not sound like it was conceived as a masterpiece. While its predecessor required patience and investment to appreciate, Virtue is almost instantly gratifying. Therefore, it remains unclear which will be viewed as the ‘greater’ work in the future. After all, Casablancas warns on ‘Wink’ that ‘Playin’ it too safe is dangerous.’ But, for now, if The Voidz’ ultimate goal, as they have stated recently in innumerable interviews, was to cunningly sneak into the mainstream, to heroically smuggle innovation into a space wherein conformity is not just preferred, but enforced, to compellingly wrap the ‘dangerous’ in the ‘safe’ so that they can reshape what the mainstream is? Mission accomplished.

[rightsidenews]

Why Do Male Feminists Rape?

Ash Sharp Editor

For what seems like forever on social media, a repeating cycle has taken place. No, not just hordes of blue checkmark verified liberals screaming into the abyss of Donald J. Trump’s mentions every hour of every day.

It goes like this. A man is a feminist. A man decries toxic masculinity, rails against Whiteness, demands that men start being real men and join #TheResistance.

The man is likely a writer for Vice. The man opposed Gamergate, wrung his hands in sympathy for feminists who, he was sure, were targeted by misogynistic basement dwellers.

He recognises his privilege. He is a good feminist male ally. He is woke.

Then: he is arrested for rape.

Why? What is the underlying connection? It has been the position of many that the male feminist is secretly a predator, who is too beta-male to acquire female attention, and so joins a cult populated by women and other beta-males in order to get laid. It is a popular and plausible theory, but I contend it is too superficial to provide a complete answer. In this article, we will explore the underlying roots of what drives someone to become the worst imaginable kind of hypocrite.

It begins with the human search for identity. We used to examine ourselves, explore our inner machinations. Codified in many religious sects is the demand to know oneself. This concept is best expressed by the Ancient Greeks. Gnothi Seauton, know thyself, is inscribed in the court of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi.

Yet, who is the real I, where does he hide from ME? I know who he is not, but how and what and if at all HE is, I have never discovered although for more than seventy years I have been looking for him. ~ Bernard Berenson

File this with all the other headlines that aged terribly this year.

In all religions, philosophical doctrines and schools of thought, we boil down to this one fundamental question. Who am I? Without knowing who one truly is, we find ourselves adrift, searching around and paddling aimlessly on the seas of our own consciousness for something, someone, to show us the way to who we are. Charlatans, gurus and mystics have become rich by peddling the answers, as the sellers of indulgences exploited to perfection.

When we do not know ourselves we are prey for anyone that may come along with an attractive idea. We are prey for those who would sell us a cure for what ails in one moment, while informing us that we are sickening from a new invisible disease in the next. The context of our modern society is shaped so that the identity we should find within is placed within reach, without. In the process of growing from child to adult, we reshape ourselves to fit into the often conflicting demands of a society we do not understand. So detached from the inner-self have we become that external demand of what we should be takes precedence over what we are.

This is the allure of identity politics. It is a cheap fake. It tells you that you are skin colour, genitalia, class, ethnicity. Identity politics says nothing about your character. As a weapon of control, identity politics is advanced by shysters who are no more moral than the men who understood that canned laughter accompanying a bad comedy forces a laugh from the audience.

Imagine such a case, then, that some men look for identity and are told that theirs is bad. Toxic. A thing to be fought against and apologised for, forever. An eternal penance for the crime of not knowing who you really are.

In this way, the male feminist is surely one of the most tragic victims of our age.

To understand the psychological importance to feminism of checking one’s privilege and the impact on the cult victim, we must first talk about shiny toy robots.

Back in 1965, psychologist Jonathan Freedman conducted an experiment on compliance in children. He wanted to see if he could instil a particular behaviour in eight-year-old boys, just by telling them to obey. No mean feat, as I am sure anyone reading this who has spent any time with children at all can attest.

Freedman first warned the boys of dire consequences if they were to play with a toy robot after they had completed some tasks. The boys had four other toys to play with, of far lower quality. When Freedman left the room to watch the unfolding events behind a two-way mirror, he discovered that 21 out of 22 boys did not play with the robot.

He had expected this. The next phase of the experiment took place six weeks later, featuring a female assistant overseeing the same group of boys. The toys were the same also. This time though, the assistant said that the boys could play with whatever toys they liked, with no prohibition. 77% chose to play with the robot that had been forbidden to them earlier.

So, when a child is forbidden from doing something with dire consequences, the object which is forbidden becomes almost irresistible. Freedman proved his hypothesis by repeating the study with a control group, who were presented the same array of toys. This time though, Freedman merely said: “it is wrong to play with the robot” and left the room to observe.

Just as with the other sample, only 1 of the 22 boys touched the robot during the short time Freedman was gone.

The real difference between the two samples of boys came six weeks later when they had a chance to play with the toys while Freedman was no longer around. An astonishing thing happened. The boys who earlier had been given no strong threat against playing with the robot, when given the freedom to play with any toy they wished, most avoided the robot. Even though it was by far the most attractive of the five toys available (the others were a cheap plastic submarine, a child’s baseball glove without a ball, an unloaded toy rifle, and a toy tractor). When these boys played with one of the five toys, only 33 percent chose the robot.

Something dramatic had happened to both groups of boys. For the first group, it was the severe threat they heard from Freedman to back up his statement that playing with the robot was “wrong.” It had been quite effective, while Freedman could catch them violating his rule. Later, though, when he was no longer present to observe the boys’ behaviour, his threat was impotent and his rule was, consequently, ignored. It seems clear that the threat had not taught the boys that operating the robot was wrong, only that it was unwise to do so when the possibility of punishment existed.

For the other boys, the dramatic event had come from inside, not outside. Freedman had instructed them, too, that playing with the robot was wrong, but he had added no threat of punishment should they disobey him. There were two important results. First, Freedman’s instruction alone was enough to prevent the boys from operating the robot while he was briefly out of the room. Second, the boys took personal responsibility for their choices to stay away from the robot during that time. They decided that they hadn’t played with it because they didn’t want to. After all, there were no strong punishments associated with the toy to explain their behaviour otherwise. Thus, weeks later, when Freedman was nowhere around, they still ignored the robot because they had been changed inside to believe that they did not want to play with it. (Cialdini, Robert B. (2009–08–20). Influence: Science and Practice

What does Freedman tell us about the mind of the male feminist?

In simple terms, Freedman is showing us how forbidden fruit entices us all. From the Garden of Eden to a robot in a classroom in 1965, the fundamental is the same. The instruction from God to refuse the apple from the Tree of Knowledge is the reflected in the Soma of Neo-Marxist indoctrination in Feminism’s Brave New World. Women, the protected class- to interact with one in any way that might be considered remotely masculine is forbidden. Haram. Women for the male feminist have become the apple.

Imagine my shock

They are the shiny red robot, for which the male feminist is subjected to an eternal mental loop- do not touch do not think do not look do not talk do not do do not do not not not no no no no. Much further than the societal constraints that assist in the function of civilisation goes this conditioning. The male feminist is reduced to little more than an obedient drone- while he maintains his un-natural composure, of course.

The simple solution to achieving the proclaimed aim of ending rape culture is the exact opposite of what feminists have been demanding for decades. Rape culture is, in reality, a construct of feminism itself- at least in the developed western world.

So, in the programmed mind of the male feminist, when [any-flirt-action = crime] and [malesexdrive = rape] just as Dworkin prophesied, then our poor chaps are living on borrowed time. While I obviously make no apology for rapists or those who commit sex crime (I advocate for much harsher sentencing for any individual who rapes than currently prescribed in the west) we must acknowledge that many of the crimes we prosecute in the court of public opinion are not crimes at all. I briefly touched on this when discussing Rupert Myers, late of GQ, who fell foul of feminist social media by saying that we would rather have sexual congress with a woman than be her friend and tried to kiss her after an evening consuming alcohol.

For this crime, he lost his job. Feminist online mobs wield shame-powerover even large institutions, once the employees of those institutions transgress the laws of the FemCult. This example is merely the extreme of the Far Left power play that shackles the entirety of the English-speaking world. We can laugh and call these men cucks and soyboys and betas, and feel good about ourselves and our red-pilled ways. That is dangerous, however true it may be.

You, dear reader, are under imminent threat of losing your livelihood for speaking in the wrong way. Just as these male feminists have. They are the canaries in the coal mine, who are so sensitive and so close to the face that they are first to be asphyxiated by toxic gas.

Weaponised Neo-Marxist ideology has you all in its terrible grip. The toxic fumes that kill the canary will eventually kill all the miners too, unless someone spots that the bird is twitching at the bottom of his cage. You can see this for yourself. Take out your Union Jack and walk with it through any street in Britain. Write a sign saying #AllLivesMatter and stand on the streets of Chicago, or New York, or San Francisco. Mock Hitler using a cute dog, while living in Scotland.

This is the true and secret intersectionality that is causing our world to corrode.

But why do these feminist men adopt these impossible rules in the first place?

“L’enfer est plein de bonnes volontés ou désirs.”

Hell is full of good wishes or desires. ~Bernard of Clairvaux, 1150 AD.

It begins for most men with the simple desire to be liked by women. It is a simple thing that we all crave, from the attention of our mothers in childhood through to adolescent yearning for the coolest girl in school who doesn’t know you exist. Then, at some point, a young man may be talking to a young woman and she will say the fateful words;

“You believe in equality for womyn- don’t you?”

This is the first fateful step. It is unanswerable in any way that will produce a positive outcome for the young man, and so, poof a new male feminist is born. Quickly he learns from his new Mystress of the terrible legacy of his sex, how his very penis is an oppressive weapon. And so, he must confess his sins.

Publicly acknowledging one’s privilege is a social signal. It is as powerful for the freshly radicalised Neo-Marxist as it is for the saved Christian who accepts Christ. Anyone who has left a faith will tell you of the internal struggle to renounce pledges you have spoken. Psychologically speaking, it is far harder to go back on your word if it is written down, or spoken in public.

The Chinese knew this during the Korean War. With American POWs, they asked the prisoners to write down everything. In interrogation, to win small bonuses like a few cigarettes, written testimonies were gathered. Over time, prisoners would confess that, perhaps, the United States was not perfect. Perhaps also there were things to be said for the Communist way of doing things. Once these words were written down and signed, it becomes much more difficult for the prisoner to recant them later.

Consider the male feminist to be a prisoner of war, and their behaviour makes a lot more sense.

A person who checks their privilege in such a manner assigns greater value to the ideological cause because they have made the decision to publicly ally with it. Just as a prisoner of war can be encouraged to betray his own nation. This process comes with conflicts to be overcome; parental/filial disapproval, being a gigantic cuck forever, public scorn, and so on. The further you go into the ideological framework, the more affirmations you must make. Black Lives Matter. Trans Bathrooms Now. #TheResistance. Putting a little rose in your twitter bio, next to the snowflake and rainbow flag emojis. This is an initiation ceremony.

Without an initiation ceremony, groups are less worthwhile to us. We value groups for whom we have sacrificed. The USMC understands this. Greek letter fraternities understand this. Tribal societies in the Amazon understand this. English rugby teams understand this. Neo-Marxists understand this. When the squad performs press-ups while Private Pyle eats a jelly doughnut, this is the formation of a strong group bond within the squad, against Pyle. When the male feminist signals his virtue, he is participating in this same act.

Look how many press-ups I am doing for you, Dryll Sergeant.

Look how virtuous I am, not like these Gomer Pyles who are not woke. God, look how they bully me online when I stand up for womyn. I watch The Young Turks. I re-tweet Shaun King. I read bell hooks, because her books are short, easy to understand and even easier to repeat for even more virtue points.

This ‘good boy’ feminism is at the root of the problem for our future sex criminal. The reality is that in the end it is the male feminist who metaphorically splatters his brains all over the wall, and the men he sees as neanderthal schlubs who fly off to ‘Nam to participate in the great struggle of procreation and survival.

Shifting the self-image of a person directly affects how a person behaves. For example, I am affecting my own behaviour exactly in this way, right now. I adopt the persona of Ash Sharp, the writer. For now, that is the aspect of my personality construct which is present, in charge- the focus is on writing well. Therefore, I write these words for you to read. In this persona, I am sure that I am correct, or at least making a good argument, and so I overcome the self-doubt that concerns ‘me’ when putting work on public display. I gather this is a common technique.

And yet male feminists still exist, for some reason.

The male feminist adopts a far more uncomfortable mask, one that is impossible to maintain perfectly. The demands of feminist ideology are so high that no man can transcend his biological reality and become a true feminist. Failure under such circumstances is guaranteed, and, as we see so often, the penalty for failure is harsh.

Whether it is social shame for speaking over a woman, or taking a job that a woman should have had, or any transgression from simply being a white person to actual criminal behaviour, the male feminist is utterly doomed.

Should we then pity the male feminist? I don’t think so. While any of us can fall victim to seductive ideologies that claim to answer everything, we are also responsible for freeing ourselves. It is our individual responsibility to seek out learning, to ensure that we are men of character. A man of character is never a rapist because such behaviour is beneath him- it is for those who cannot control themselves, or who are genuinely evil.

A man of character is also not subjugated by ideology, as such ideas have been assessed, considered and found wanting. It is not so difficult a thing to achieve. It is far easier to accept the dominant paradigm pushed by feminism and Neo-Marxists. It is easier by far to accept that your penis is evil, and you must say sorry, and keep saying sorry, and grovel on your knees.

This is why weak men become male feminists. This is why male feminists rape.

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