Lord Pusswhip is dead. Long live Lord Pusswhip.
Lord Pusswhip is dead. He was 22 standard years old. This information was communicated today to FALK world headquarters in Reykjavik, Iceland, first through telepathic communication with a cat named Stalin and later validated via electronic communication, using the overload oppressors’ own thought-controlling medium, also known as the internet, against them. The uncoded transmission was a shot across the bow of those in power, communicating out in the open and letting the entire world know that Lord Pusswhip has moved beyond the real and into the realm where magic and digital meet, where he will continue to wage his war against the false construct that we have all be bred and numbed to believe is reality. Lord Pusswhip is dead. Long live Lord Pusswhip.
I first encountered Lord Pusswhip via his masterful 2015 release Lord Pusswhip Is Wack, 18 tracks of downtempo hip hop featuring a host of other artists, a sometimes poppy, sometimes groovy, and always modulated album that feels custom made for chilling and imbibing. Little did I realize at the time, however, that this was a feint to convince those in power that his Lordship wasn’t subversive, an artist outside the mainstream certainly but not dangerously so. It was the slow fuse Pusswhip lit to exposure himself to a wider audience while at the same time hiding himself in plain sight.
The fuse hit Pusswhip’s combustable core on Lord Pusswhip Is Dead. And things will never be the same.
His birth name is Þórður Ingi Jónsson, the name his parents gave him to help him blend in undetected. Because you see they too were subversives, infiltrating society’s power structures to learn and corrupt, skills they imparted to their son, recognizing that the future lay within him. Pusswhip’s transmission to FALK included a manifesto aimed at opening the eyes of the sheep, awakening them from the television-and-YouTubecat-video-induced haze created to control them.
If you are reading this then LORD PUSSWHIP is dead. Of rather I have decided to draw a closing line between this period of my life in order to protect the ones that I love and hold dear to me, so that I may prepare for the next stage in what is an interdimensional war against what Burroughs calls ‘The One God Universe’ and its brutal regime of order that harks the slow death of love and freedom.
People may not realise but my whole life has been one of time sorcery and reality hacking. My parents, unbeknownst to even their closest friends, were occultic anarcho communists who were waging a low level but persistent war against the archons who preside over the global security deep state. Taking on the bourgeois cloaks of holding positions in art and televisual media, they hid in plain sight while conducting various guerrilla sorties against the capitalist deploying all manner of esoteric weaponry: Enochian Hexes; Lemurian Deep Time IEDs: Psychic Assassinations; Lovecraftian Sorcery to induce ‘paranoid-chronomaniac hallucinations’ with targeted businessmen and politicians.
My Parents trained my brother and I to carry on their good work when age and circumstance made it unable for them to do so. And since 2010, I have been using the powers inherent in the occultic sample, splicing it with abnormal sonics and the corrupted nature of the time manipulating software to generate abnormal cultural velocities, personal magic that can break past the walls of unknowing and generate weaponised hyperstitions. Against what I call the “Black Order”, those mysterious cloaked and diseased entities of the One God Universe who use regimes of capital boosted by tectonic stack AI systems, I have been building my own subjectivity engine, spinning a different web of music designed to disrupt and disturb those who have been blinded or numbed by the overstimulation of capital and machine generated affect that rules our lives. The tracks I have given you are a systems map, a concept of technics to achieve perceptual freedom from the darkness that envelops us 24/7.
Lord Pusswhip is dead. Long live Lord Pusswhip.
It doesn’t take long for you to realize that Lord Pusswhip Is Dead is different, coated in a thick, gooey layer of codeine cough syrup, sticky and slow. You move through the tracks like they were a physical purple haze hindering your movements and making you feel like you’re both stuck and floating at the same time. It reminds me of the sensations I felt when jacked up on pain meds after hand surgery many years ago, like having a warm, heavy blanket draped over you, feeling both enlightened and stupid at the same time.
The beats are slow and intoxicating, the vocals run through every kind of electronic apparatus imaginable to distort and conceal them from the overlords. If you told me there were subliminal communications from the newly evolved Lord Pusswhip hidden within the competing beats and sometimes slurred rapping on “Á Nornasveim” I wouldn’t doubt you, the sonics cutting through the brain’s defense mechanisms and right into the medulla oblongata in an effort to free you.
Lord Pusswhip Is Dead is a compilation of material, some of dating back as far as 2012, so there are a handful of songs like “Siggi Sýra Ft. Svarti Laxness” that harken back to the approachable vibe of Lord Pusswhip Is Wack. The earlier material is the most syrup-coated, and it’s almost hard to believe that there were only a couple of years between the recording of the sludgy “Seljandi Krakk Sleitulaust” (2013) and the aforementioned “Siggi Sýra Ft. Svarti Laxness” (2015), which is certainly mainstream enough to warrant radio play.
The limited edition (of 44) cassette release consists of 20 tracks, while the digital version offers an extra half dozen. Both are still available on FALK’s website HERE, where you can also sample Pusswhip’s transmissions for free. And maybe, just maybe, Lord Pusswhip paying the ultimate sacrifice will open your perceptions just a little so that you too can forward the aims of his underground subversive resistance. Will you heed the call?