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AAron Roz May 2018
Music is loud or quiet.
Music is soft or heavy.
Music can have meaning or not.
Music can be nothing or everything.
Music is:
◾Art Punk
◾Alternative Rock
◾College Rock
◾Crossover Thrash (thx Kevin G)
◾Crust Punk (thx Haug)
◾Experimental Rock
◾Folk Punk
◾Goth / Gothic Rock
◾Grunge
◾******* Punk
◾Hard Rock
◾Indie Rock
◾Lo-fi (hat tip to Ben Vee Bedlamite)
◾New Wave
◾Progressive Rock
◾Punk
◾Shoegaze (with thx to Jackie Herrera)
◾Steampunk (with thx to Christopher Schaeffer)

•Anime
•Blues ◾Acoustic Blues
◾Chicago Blues
◾Classic Blues
◾Contemporary Blues
◾Country Blues
◾Delta Blues
◾Electric Blues
◾Ragtime Blues (cheers GFS)

•Children’s Music ◾Lullabies
◾Sing-Along
◾Stories

•Classical ◾Avant-Garde
◾Baroque
◾Chamber Music
◾Chant
◾Choral
◾Classical Crossover
◾Contemporary Classical (thx Julien Palliere)
◾Early Music
◾Expressionist (thx Mr. Palliere)
◾High Classical
◾Impressionist
◾Medieval
◾Minimalism
◾Modern Composition
◾Opera
◾Orchestral
◾Renaissance
◾Romantic (early period)
◾Romantic (later period)
◾Wedding Music

•Comedy ◾Novelty
◾Standup Comedy
◾Vaudeville (cheers Ben Vee Bedlamite)

•Commercial (thank you Sheldon Reynolds) ◾Jingles
◾TV Themes

•Country ◾Alternative Country
◾Americana
◾Bluegrass
◾Contemporary Bluegrass
◾Contemporary Country
◾Country Gospel
◾Country Pop (thanks Sarah Johnson)
◾***** Tonk
◾Outlaw Country
◾Traditional Bluegrass
◾Traditional Country
◾Urban Cowboy

•Dance (EDM – Electronic Dance Music – see Electronic below – with thx to Eric Shaffer-Whiting & Drew :-)) ◾Club / Club Dance (thx Luke Allfree)
◾Breakcore
◾Breakbeat / Breakstep
◾Brostep (cheers Tom Berckley)
◾Chillstep (thx Matt)
◾Deep House (cheers Venus Pang)
◾Dubstep
◾Electro House (thx Luke Allfree)
◾Electroswing
◾Exercise
◾Future Garage (thx Ran’dom Haug)
◾Garage
◾Glitch Hop (cheers Tom Berckley)
◾Glitch Pop (thx Ran’dom Haug)
◾Grime (thx Ran’dom Haug / Matthew H)
◾*******
◾Hard Dance
◾Hi-NRG / Eurodance
◾Horrorcore (thx Matt)
◾House
◾Jackin House (with thx to Jermaine Benjamin Dale Bruce)
◾Jungle / Drum’n’bass
◾Liquid Dub(thx Ran’dom Haug)
◾Regstep (thanks to ‘Melia G)
◾Speedcore (cheers Matt)
◾Techno
◾Trance
◾Trap (thx Luke Allfree)

•Disney
•Easy Listening ◾Bop
◾Lounge
◾Swing

•Electronic ◾2-Step (thx Ran’dom Haug)
◾8bit – aka 8-bit, Bitpop and Chiptune – (thx Marcel Borchert)
◾Ambient
◾Bassline (thx Leon Oliver)
◾Chillwave(thx Ran’dom Haug)
◾Chiptune (kudos to Dominik Landahl)
◾Crunk (with thx to Jillian Edwards)
◾Downtempo
◾Drum & Bass (thx Luke Allfree)
◾Electro
◾Electro-swing (thank you Daniel Forthofer)
◾Electronica
◾Electronic Rock
◾Hardstyle (kudos to Dominik Landahl)
◾IDM/Experimental
◾Industrial
◾Trip Hop (thank you Michael Tait Tafoya)

•Enka
•French Pop
•German Folk
•German Pop
•Fitness & Workout
•Hip-Hop/Rap ◾Alternative Rap
◾Bounce
◾***** South
◾East Coast Rap
◾Gangsta Rap
◾******* Rap
◾Hip-Hop
◾Latin Rap
◾Old School Rap
◾Rap
◾Turntablism (thank you Luke Allfree)
◾Underground Rap
◾West Coast Rap

•Holiday ◾Chanukah
◾Christmas
◾Christmas: Children’s
◾Christmas: Classic
◾Christmas: Classical
◾Christmas: Comedy
◾Christmas: Jazz
◾Christmas: Modern
◾Christmas: Pop
◾Christmas: R&B
◾Christmas: Religious
◾Christmas: Rock
◾Easter
◾Halloween
◾Holiday: Other
◾Thanksgiving

•Indie Pop
•Industrial
•Inspirational – Christian & Gospel ◾CCM
◾Christian Metal
◾Christian Pop
◾Christian Rap
◾Christian Rock
◾Classic Christian
◾Contemporary Gospel
◾Gospel
◾Christian & Gospel
◾Praise & Worship
◾Qawwali (with thx to Jillian Edwards)
◾Southern Gospel
◾Traditional Gospel

•Instrumental ◾March (Marching Band)

•J-Pop ◾J-Rock
◾J-Synth
◾J-Ska
◾J-Punk

•Jazz ◾Acid Jazz (with thx to Hunter Nelson)
◾Avant-Garde Jazz
◾Bebop (thx Mwinogo1)
◾Big Band
◾Blue Note (with thx to Jillian Edwards)
◾Contemporary Jazz
◾Cool
◾Crossover Jazz
◾Dixieland
◾Ethio-jazz (with thx to Jillian Edwards)
◾Fusion
◾Gypsy Jazz (kudos to Mike Tait Tafoya)
◾Hard Bop
◾Latin Jazz
◾Mainstream Jazz
◾Ragtime
◾Smooth Jazz
◾Trad Jazz

•K-Pop
•Karaoke
•Kayokyoku
•Latin ◾Alternativo & Rock Latino
◾Argentine tango (gracias P. Moth & Sandra Sanders)
◾Baladas y Boleros
◾Bossa Nova (with thx to Marcos José Sant’Anna Magalhães & Alex Ede for the reclassification)
◾Brazilian
◾Contemporary Latin
◾Cumbia (gracias Richard Kemp)
◾Flamenco / Spanish Flamenco (thank you Michael Tait Tafoya & Sandra Sanders)
◾Latin Jazz
◾Nuevo Flamenco (and again Michael Tafoya)
◾Pop Latino
◾Portuguese fado (and again Sandra Sanders)
◾Raíces
◾Reggaeton y Hip-Hop
◾Regional Mexicano
◾Salsa y Tropical

•New Age ◾Environmental
◾Healing
◾Meditation
◾Nature
◾Relaxation
◾Travel

­•Opera
•Pop ◾Adult Contemporary
◾Britpop
◾Bubblegum Pop (thx Haug & John Maher)
◾Chamber Pop (thx Haug)
◾Dance Pop
◾Dream Pop (thx Haug)
◾Electro Pop (thx Haug)
◾Orchestral Pop (thx Haug)
◾Pop/Rock
◾Pop Punk (thx Makenzie)
◾Power Pop (thx Haug)
◾Soft Rock
◾Synthpop (thx Haug)
◾Teen Pop

•R&B/Soul ◾Contemporary R&B
◾Disco (not a top level genre Sheldon Reynolds!)
◾Doo ***
◾Funk
◾Modern Soul (Cheers Nik)
◾Motown
◾Neo-Soul
◾Northern Soul (Cheers Nik & John Maher)
◾Psychedelic Soul (thank you John Maher)
◾Quiet Storm
◾Soul
◾Soul Blues (Cheers Nik)
◾Southern Soul (Cheers Nik)

•Reggae ◾2-Tone (thx GFS)
◾Dancehall
◾Dub
◾Roots Reggae
◾Ska

•Rock ◾Acid Rock (with thanks to Alex Antonio)
◾Adult-Oriented Rock (thanks to John Maher)
◾Afro Punk
◾Adult Alternative
◾Alternative Rock (thx Caleb Browning)
◾American Trad Rock
◾Anatolian Rock
◾Arena Rock
◾Art Rock
◾Blues-Rock
◾British Invasion
◾**** Rock
◾Death Metal / Black Metal
◾Doom Metal (thx Kevin G)
◾Glam Rock
◾Gothic Metal (fits here Sam DeRenzis – thx)
◾Grind Core
◾Hair Metal
◾Hard Rock
◾Math Metal (cheers Kevin)
◾Math Rock (thx Ran’dom Haug)
◾Metal
◾Metal Core (thx Ran’dom Haug)
◾Noise Rock (genre – Japanoise – thx Dominik Landahl)
◾Jam Bands
◾Post Punk (thx Ben Vee Bedlamite)
◾Prog-Rock/Art Rock
◾Progressive Metal (thx Ran’dom Haug)
◾Psychedelic
◾Rock & Roll
◾Rockabilly (it’s here Mark Murdock!)
◾Roots Rock
◾Singer/Songwriter
◾Southern Rock
◾Spazzcore (thx Haug)
◾Stoner Metal (duuuude)
◾Surf
◾Technical Death Metal (cheers Pierre)
◾Tex-Mex
◾Time Lord Rock (Trock) ~ (thanks to ‘Melia G)
◾Trash Metal (thanks to Pierre A)

•Singer/Songwriter ◾Alternative Folk
◾Contemporary Folk
◾Contemporary Singer/Songwriter
◾Indie Folk (with thanks to Andrew Barrett)
◾Folk-Rock
◾Love Song (Chanson – merci Marcel Borchert)
◾New Acoustic
◾Traditional Folk

•Soundtrack ◾Foreign Cinema
◾Movie Soundtrack (thanks Julien)
◾Musicals
◾Original Score
◾Soundtrack
◾TV Soundtrack

•Spoken Word
•Tex-Mex / Tejano (with thx to Israel Lopez) ◾Chicano
◾Classic
◾Conjunto
◾Conjunto Progressive
◾New Mex
◾Tex-Mex

•Vocal ◾A cappella (with kudos to Sheldon Reynolds)
◾Barbershop (with thx to Kelly Chism)
◾Doo-*** (with thx to Bradley Thompson)
◾Gregorian Chant (hat tip to Deborah Knight-Nikifortchuk)
◾Standards
◾Traditional Pop
◾Vocal Jazz
◾Vocal Pop

•World ◾Africa
◾Afro-Beat
◾Afro-Pop
◾Asia
◾Australia
◾Cajun
◾Calypso (thx Gerald John)
◾Caribbean
◾Carnatic (Karnataka Sanghetha – thx Abhijith)
◾Celtic
◾Celtic Folk
◾Contemporary Celtic
◾Coupé-décalé (thx Samy) – Congo
◾Dangdut (thank you Achmad Ivanny)
◾Drinking Songs
◾Drone (with thx to Robert Conrod)
◾Europe
◾France
◾Hawaii
◾Hindustani (thank you Abhijith)
◾Indian Ghazal (thank you Gitika Thakur)
◾Indian Pop
◾Japan
◾Japanese Pop
◾Klezmer
◾Mbalax (thank you Samy) – Senegal
◾Middle East
◾North America
◾Ode (thank you Sheldon Reynolds)
◾Piphat (cheers Samy B) – Thailand
◾Polka
◾Soca (thx Gerald John)
◾South Africa
◾South America
◾Traditional Celtic
◾Worldbeat
◾Zydeco
etc...
Connor Apr 2016
Let's see..
well,

..there's the writer who never gave a **** about anybody but himself

..and the writer who had a fetish for pouring melted candlewax onto her own toes, while being watched by her cat

..and the writer who owned a chimpanzee named Tom, one afternoon when the writer wasn't home, Tom frenzied around the house chasing down a moth, this caused obvious concern to the neighbors, who heard the commotion last for an hour or maybe more, ah well..

..and the writer who began experimenting with a dream machine, but stopped upon feeling his brain's physical presence within his own skull, weighty, and terrifyingly colorful!

..and the writer who did the same thing, except kept going and found herself bored with it after a while anyways

..and the writer who broke down out front of a Walgreens in reaction to a phone call detailing a nearby tragedy involving two cars + a logging truck (and a tad of ******* but shhhhh) grief was part of that performance, but also in knowing he may have been directly responsible for the crash (coke was given by him, to the driver)

..and the writer who experienced the best ****** of his life without even a single poke of physical contact to his ****!

..and the writer who became addicted to biting her knuckles, to the point she needed to see someone about it

..and the writer who filed for divorce after finding out that his lover had caught numerous ****** infections/diseases (and only having been told by their cousin, too! probably from two recent trips to South America unbeknownst to their partner)

..and the writer who had a hobby of taking photographs of lampshades of varying textures, ages, sizes, and which emitted sometimes very exotic colors from the bulb inside.

..and the writer who never left his city, due to a paralyzing fear of travel

..and the writer who fell in love with another writer who was in love with someone else (as is usually the case)

..and the writer who passed away yesterday
..and the writer who will pass away tomorrow

..and the writer who admired the work of Charles Bukowski and tried too hard to be like Charles Bukowski, at the peril of those around him

..and the writer who's family hasn't messaged her in a few months now, and continues to wonder why

..and the writer who's favorite song was "I'm So Happy (Tra La La)" by Lewis Lymon & The Teen Chords, though in reality she was never happy (let alone SO happy) and often played the song as a front to convince herself that everything would be just fine
"JUST AS HAPPY AS CAN BE"

..and the writer who never knew they were a writer and never wrote anything in their life but **** it if they did!

..and the writer who's favorite month was July, favorite day Saturday, and time of day at around 2pm

..and the writer who's last words were never written down or heard by anyone outside their secluded office to which he screamed "HELP!!!" and then died from heart attack

..and the writer who actually lived only three blocks away and was good friends with the guy, and found his door unlocked and the smell came first

..and the writer who found it funny to imagine getting involved in certain scenarios inappropriately contrasted with specific songs, settings, or themes. An example: funerals where everyone shows up in clown costumes, sunbathing in the Arctic, being invited to a nice dinner and the restaurant is playing loud shoegaze music, closely befriending the person you hate the most in the world just to see if you can, and bringing a large cage of parrots to see a movie with you

..and the writer who really DID some of those things mentioned above (I won't say which)

..and the writer who wrote about all these other writers (me)

..and the writer who may be reading about all these other writers (you)
Jason Argonaut Oct 2011
The friend request. There it was.
The gods must have sent it.
Here I am, two weeks in the past,
Staring dreamily into a picture of you.
Those eyes, garnished with thick dark eyelashes,
Staring deeply into someone you’ve never met.
That jet black hair. Shadowy curtains,
Keeping your heart-shaped face safe.
But those lips. Painted with pure blood daily.
The most inviting fruit before my own eyes.
Yours is a beauty I have only seen in French cinema.
Like Audrey Tatou, ordering in a restaurant,
With a smile of pure inviting mischief.
And I imagine…oh I imagine…
Am I ready to break this wasteland?
The scorching desert that is alone?
I can almost smell her foreign perfume.
But she is merely pixels upon a screen.
You snap out of it, son.

And lo, the friend request.
My stomach leaps as I click ‘accept’.
She types. She compliments.
I compliment. We chat.
We exchange clips of Led Zeppelin.
She sends me gothic rock.
Moody and dark. The blackest of music.
I am never wearing colours again.
And I take the leap. I type some x’s and some o’s.
And she types them back.

Let us meet.
Where do we meet in this god-forsaken town?
Coffee. Easy. Neither formal nor gritty.
Just enough class, just enough mediocrity.
And she sways across the floor and greets me.
Her dress is of vintage design and flowing beauty.
Her glasses project her gaze into mine.
Ordering coffee, sitting with her chin resting on her hand.
Her smile is as warm as the sun.
Is she Mia Wallace? Is this Pulp Fiction?
My witty remark is quite crude and depicts violence.
A normal girl would shudder and frown.
She loves it. She loves that sort of thing.
This was lovely. Let us do it again sometime.

Next minute, we’re kissing passionately in amongst the bamboo.
She cares not for my bristles. In fact she likes it.
Her lipstick gets destroyed. She cares not.
So much drive for a ******.
We’re a secret. No one shall know.
She messages me. Tells me she is still drunk on me.
What we have is otherworldly.
Are we two aliens, a race from a far-off land?
Destined to be together? The last of our kind?

We touch, we caress. We burn CDs.
Trip hop, soul orchestras and shoegaze.
Hand-written burnt CD track listings.
The fact that she has written each word
Brings warmth. It creeps up from my stomach
And my arms can’t help but engulf her little frame.
She calls me a genius.
She loves every single note I play, every word I write.
I am a god to her. She adores me. And I her.
She watches me lovingly on the stage.
And before she boards the train home
I tell her. Three words.
I love you.
It’s the truth. And she loves me back.
Was it too early to tell her this? No, surely not.

Our love creeps and crawls up the stone wall.
An overgrown vine of pleasure and euphoria.
Kiss me hard, push your face so hard into mine.
It’s time. Relax. Just go with it.
Olive skin, so soft. Cover me with you.
Nothing can stop our intergalactic empire.
I stand atop an interstellar battlefield of victory,
With you at my side, my Queen.
If I could just float around space in a bubble
With you my dear, I would be happy
For an eternity.

And you say you’re leaving.
You don’t want it to change us.
It won’t, I promise.
You must further yourself by any means.
Broaden your horizons.
I will still love you to death.
I promise.
And away you fly, off into the sunset.

The phone calls start. You’re in a bad way.
An alien in a strange city, on your own.
What’s going on? The choice has been made.
Think of the money. Can you back out now?
Not just for me, surely. Stick it out.
That’s it, you’re coming back.

And through the drizzle, the plane lands.
You’re back.
In a leather jacket and black dress. My love.
I kiss you like I used to.
But it isn’t like it used to be.
Wait, no. No no no.
What has happened?
My stomach hurts. This pain is excruciating.
Piranhas are attacking my insides.
Make them stop.
The tears burn. I stifle them for days and days.
And finally they fall. What the ****?
It’s gone. It’s just gone.
We sit together. I glance over at your frightened eyes.
I am a murderer, waiting around the corner,
Sharpening my knife for the ****** in the alleyway.
We must end. I don’t know why.
The feeling’s gone. I can’t explain it.
This was like an epic jouney.
I thought it would never end.
You were perfect.
You were badass. You were kickass.
You were beautiful.
You were amazing.
You adored me. You loved me.
You were perfect.
We were perfect.
I loved you.

Now I don’t.

What?

J.A.W. 19/10/11 1:20 AM
EarthGurl2004 Jan 2014
we're friends right? no we are strained acquaintances we are yin yan
g with nine colors we are tv static on all night when you're too tired to
get up and turn it off we are doodles in the margins of a very importa
nt research paper you are lost in everyone forgetting that my middle
name is freedom i am putting on metaphorical makeup to mask my
emotional blemishes we are sour candy and ginger ale we are obscu
re genres of music shoegaze my ****** valentine we are a waterco
lor clusterfuck bleeding together like an amateur blood drive read b
etween the lines we are biodegradable plastic half covered in the soil
untouched for two years we are sunshine and chill bumps I hate you
for the same reasons I hate myself we are nostalgia and anxiety we a
re insomniacs who only want each other between the hours of 8 pm
and 6 am we are avoiding eye contact in the halls
kat Sep 2014
to
purple skies
late school nights
to
the tunnel under the bridge filled with our names
they painted over last week
to
heartbreak
and malt liquor
to
skinned knees
and ****** teeth
to
the lies we tell our parents
and sun burnt chest
to
Kid Cudi
and Kanye West
to
summer reading the bible
and a book about mythology
to
Jesus and Hera
their perfect harmony
to
green eyes
to
truth
to
shoegaze
to
bass
to
slick roads
too ****** to skate
to
spitting verse in the backseat
to
remembering family
to
rain and how it ruins everything
to
never letting your ex ruin everything
to
Sunday sun
and mosquito nights
puffy and swollen
and always multiplying
to
the concrete embedded in our cheeks
to
every firecracker
reminding us
that we're free
Vanguarded by thrones,  

I am still  

into the wilderness.  

For the serpents,  

they thrive into the darkest souls.  

Dismantled,  

I wish for reigns to come.  

Without power to invade,  

I am no lord.  

(How I wish I were never in a dark descent.)  

For the disciples of the knight,  

they would never come.    

My blood rides the doom,  

Baphomet’s head is on the run  

as I drown myself into Thy scape of aether.  

I thrashed myself the **** down  

and then I ran onto Thy strongest fort  

as I wrote an eulogy about you  

whose life has been overtaken by eagles with decapitated heads.    

WE SCREAM / AS SERVANTS IN REVOLT; / WHO DO YOU THINK  WE ARE—————————    

0384-2 38948248-23 4893840  403853-839 SYSTEM EXPERIENCES MALFUNCTION    

93084 23049702    

I have always loved  

the world I built on my own  

for you used to live in it

as an apprentice of the serpents.

“Your eyes were the only witness to my ****** up past.”

Those were your

last words

And now where are you?

29834328293 842938482948 4898 SYSTEM IS GENERATING A NEW PROJECTION

BEHOLD

FOR THE WARLOCKS

AND THE HELLRAISERS

ARE OUT TO GET YOU

ON A LACERATING SNOWSTORM IN THE NIGHT OF THE YEAR 2002

38402903849208

I would wake up to blackgaze tunes and kvlt growls everyday and then mentally punch myself in the gut

and your reflection would appear on the mirror conveying that you’re relieved I’m now a pacifist without violence and guns.

A libertine at heart, I could never grow up the way anyone has ever wanted myself to be

that the world is also writing down elusive conundrums that scream at me as if they’re telling me to suffer louder.

And despite the fact that you said my songs were disastrous and blackened crust repulsed you,

it was always you on the front row on my gigs, screaming out loud that I was the only overlord you would sell your soul to.

****** and severely injured, I thought the night you died was my night

where I could finally stop being a servant of the discordant world

for I thought you took me along with you to the transcendental world of death.

Oy vey, what’s left is only the fact that we’re now worlds apart

and the recording of your shoegaze rendition of my last song that you have always described as disastrous.

My flesh is saying that; 1. Thy art is believing in the power of disbelief.

and 2. You dying as a servant has made me feel more enslaved than when I wasn’t on top of the world.

Winter Valkyrie, that’s what my last song’s called.

You loved it; you loved me; and that’s how Winter Valkyrie was born.

Once I was drowning in a belligerent dark despair and I asked you what my existence meant

and then you started singing your favorite part of He Is by Ghost;

“He is

he’s the shining and the light without whom I cannot see.

He is

insurrection, he is spite, he’s the force that made me be.”

Just, who am I?

Ever since that day I started calling you Winter Valkyrie

and together, we sought for roads to the altar where we would rule and destroy.

But now here I am only searching for roads to my own demise.

Remembering you, you have always said my songs were disastrous as a denial because you

thought that you didn’t deserve all the songs I dedicated to you.

Nevertheless, Winter Valkyrie,

here and now, my hands would not rest from creating distorted crusts from my guitar if you

just won’t wake up from your death.
Laura Jul 2018
Blood courses, velveteen.
Alabaster & bistre limbs
inosculated, drawn up
by a methadone sun
to flirt with July skies.
Vertigo fails to fool-

we once loved at night only, scoring rind,
moaning premature world weary woes.
They appear now like blue-violet trail blazers,
defiant against the doubt of heady heights, 
guiding me to you:
my codeine haze, my shoegaze rhapsody,

‘Close my eyes / feel me now':
ours is the real thing,
kissed by the fervent fire.

— The End —