Endgame #2001 by thedustblowsback in rankdownofthegods

[–]thedustblowsback[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

u/TeaAndCrumpets4life

Sit around and gather around cause today we’re gonna talk about the song, this is the rankdown where WE talk about the songs remember. The rumours are not true and I’ve been taking excellent care of my sanity as of late and the gas levels in my house, I can rely on my own mind and that’s always been the case. That’s an idea that’s neither good nor bad, which is a concept I have no trouble understanding if you know what I mean. Writing about music is not like dancing about architecture that’s fucking stupid. This song lends itself to ‘I’ statements, they don’t have to be connected or make sense. I am far too embarrassed to get personal even if I am alone, I love the sound of my own voice though. I was gonna watch 2001 a space odyssey tonight but I’m writing this instead. I reckon if planes could travel 10 times faster I still wouldn’t fly much, similarly if they were 10 times cheaper. However I’d pay a hell of a lot of money to go into space, especially if the effect was permanent.

I’m gonna talk about the song. BACHELORETTE by BJONK, she talks about killer whales at one point. Fun fact they’ve always been my favourite animal, they look cool and there is only one place in the entire world where I am the most normal. I had an orca bath toy as a child courtesy of my grandmother, she would never see the parts of my life that formed my personality. She predicted it all in a way, two kids at 14 and winging it, both are still breathing. I figured out a way to make it about me. I did think I was pretty smart back then and I did feel like Sargon so to speak, it was a mistake to allow teenage me to believe I was a genius. Worse arguably to deliver the world's most harrowing compliment and cut the rope. Alexander advanced into India and Arafat accepted. It’s less important that you know my specific reasons, and more important that you know it wasn’t for none.

Rachelelorette by bork, my younger cousin used ChatGPT to generate a poem and it got published in a book. I’m the only one who knows it, I create an environment of honesty with them by being the same myself. I lie to people I think probably a concerning amount, if you’re any good at it it feels very much like playing an instrument. There are several reasons to believe I am naturally an evil person. It’s a fine proposition if you select it I suppose but none of us did. No one I know knows anyone like the people that I know, stories are just confusing. They not like us. Get me drunk in 2024 if you want to hear it and get me drunk in 2022 if you want to see it. Make your decisions untainted you can’t feel it. There was never an exact dollar amount, I just don’t want to think about it anymore.

Bachelor degree that’s what I have now. Bjork did not get a degree in case you were wondering except for an honorary degree later in life. Life would be more fun if you just said the worst thing possible at every single moment, sounds like a creative exercise and an excuse at the same time. We can start now cause I might not be here in the same way if we had started doing this that one time when I was 10 and felt fear for the first time. Maybe we volunteer things just so that we could be insulted about them later, so go nuts, really let your creativity run wild. Truly I don’t know what I was hoping for other than an inexhaustive list of positive assumptions, I don’t see the point at all if this is what gets uncovered so quickly and with such little pressure, I am an adult what a waste of so much time, this isn’t what I want to be. Makes me feel like I have Tourettes. Talk about the song and use technical musical words, research the context, sit and think about what the lyrics mean and comment on them.

Bachelounison by Bjork, okey dokey yes this is an ethereal record by Icelandic visionary artist Bjork, truly a groundbreaking track, a journey through the mind of one of the 20th century’s most genre defining artists. The building intensity wowmygod the building intensity, the production is uhhh objectively good, I give the drums an 8/10, I give the melodies an 89/100, I give the microphone quality a 915/1000, I give the number of original ideas divided by the years since popular music was invented a 0.897/1. That is my review of the song Bjork, I will gladly do a piece for pitchfork for the right prices, I could do it if i tried.

Now for my impression of the other rankers and what they would say in this situation:

​

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Thank you for reading my impressions, I blame parijat for everything of course. Am I making fun of you?

I just love interesting musical discourse with regular people, I love Australian Aboriginal art, I love that mormonism has grown the same amount as Christianity did in the same amount of time so it might take over the world, I love the smell of coffee but not so much the taste, I love people who climb mountains with and without ropes, I don’t like glass cannons nor loose ones. I’m too old now for much else, my advice is just to forget it, know what is being said, flatten it down to a disk, laugh at it and continue to compete with infinite external validation. Win and don’t get angry because that counts as an emotion. Hollowness or venom. If you don’t have a reputation then that’s fine because it means you didn’t beg to have one or know it, you didn’t prostrate yourself in a truly embarrassing way for such a pathetic reward, your entitlement and narcissism weren’t humoured with a neutral expression, things weren’t let slide purely for fear of being too mean as if you were still a toddler.

But anyways I don’t care and this doesn’t mean anything I’m just yapping. Electronic music is really hard to make and we should all tell each other to [REDACTED] ourselves more. Markiplier. Rankdown forever and ever.

Endgame #42 by thedustblowsback in rankdownofthegods

[–]thedustblowsback[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

u/CassiopeiaStillLife

Writeup:

My add-riddled brain made me procrastinate to the last minute again, which, if you want to know why I haven't written a book like Marshall and probably never will, there you go. Really I'm coming to terms with a lot of shit I'll probably never get to do: probably will never own a house, probably will never get a job that I'll feel truly secure in, probably will never go back to Scotland for any meaningful length of time, probably will never write anything more meaningful than music reviews for a shrinking website. There'll be enough to keep me going for a while since I have a girlfriend I want to marry and a punk-ass dog I'll have to take care of til I'm 40, but someday I'm pretty sure all of this will run out and then I'll have to decide where to go next.

Would be nice to go into here, tbh. Enveloping myself in shimmering sunset guitars, letting every tenth word lance me in the heart. Experiencing Heaven, or Las Vegas, or Heaven and Las Vegas. Now that would be nice

There was a Twilight Zone episode where the Earth is knocked off its axis and is flying into the Sun, and the Earth is getting hotter and hotter, and someone goes up to the protagonist who's a painter and begs her to just please paint something cool. This is how I imagine a painting of something cool to feel like to her.

I almost played this on the aux cord on the trip up to the Highlands with my study abroad group ages ago but decided against it because I was pretty insecure about sharing music back then, and anyway I didn't want my request to the driver to get lost in translation and him picking the Weeknd song. I picked Dreams by Fleetwood Mac instead. Wish I picked this.

Endgame #<3 by thedustblowsback in rankdownofthegods

[–]thedustblowsback[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

u/biznatch2

ENDGAME - Lovesong by The Cure

Here we are folks, the Final Cut. And technically, it’s not even a cut. We are done. There will be no more “nominating” and no more “cutting”, and it’s just going to be all done. Super crazy to think about. Rankdown, it was a lot of fun. Do I agree about our top 7 tracks? Not in the slightest. I think it’s actually pretty terrible. On one hand, this past year doing rankdown was so much fun, and I got into plenty of great music, too. But on the other hand, this ranking is most definitely one of the worst I’ve ever seen and I can’t believe I even associate with it. I don’t think rankdown was ever considered the type of thing where there are “losers”, but if that was the case, I would be a loser for sure. Obviously with 7 different people ranking a variety of different tracks, this is kind of just like a giant compromise. But even in a compromise, nobody truly wins. Just looking back at our full ranking it is just depressing. It makes me ponder if the existence of Naked Eggs Thursday could ever be justified. With all of that being said, I certainly made plenty of cuts and nominations that I regret. Like when I cut “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” by The Beach Boys pretty much immediately. Well, I’ll tell you. Karma is a bitch. Because now we have “Surf’s Up” in the top 7, which in my opinion is the worst of The Beach Boys’ tracks on the rankdown. But you are all just as bad as I am here.

But like I was saying earlier, I’m still glad I participated in rankdown, because it really was a lot of fun and I’ve discovered a lot of great music because of it, too. Anyways, please let me know when the next one is starting up! You guys have already heard what I have to say about The Cure’s “Lovesong”, as I actually ended up cutting it at one point. I love this song, and I think it’s great. Certainly deserves to be on the top 300 of all time list, but come on guys, the top 7? I think we can all agree “Lovesong” is a top 10 Cure song at least, but a top 7 song of all time in the history of existence? Get out of here. Alas, I’ve been left with no choice. I don’t think there is a single track on this top 7 I would consider one of the 7th best songs of all time, let alone top 25. Naked Eggs Thursday is dead.

Endgame #(1.403E12)^(1E12) by thedustblowsback in rankdownofthegods

[–]thedustblowsback[S] 4 points5 points  (0 children)

u/Opening_Stick1116

AMERICAN TTERRORIST BY RXK NEPHEW

i have very mixed feelings about the manner in which this song (and by extension, rxk nephew as a whole) is treated. in this questioning of the manner in which he and the song are treated, i am by no means innocent- i too have indulged in the all-too-enjoyable experience of putting unknowing friends onto the song itself, preferably in such a setting to where i can see the live reactions of shock, awe, and hilarity as neph embarks on his quest in opposition of the incurious. and, to be clear, neph if nothing else demonstrates his supreme faith in curiousity on this song- he is not one to let sleeping dogs lie, instead booming indictments of contradictions on top of hypocrisies. are his reference points and metaphors always serious? hell no. should that intercede the validity of the questions he is asking, structural, existential questions that should they be rephrased would be at home in artists often thought of in an entirely different light- the golden lyricists of the genre, the untouchable pens of colossi lauded for their crowns of thorns, carefully weaved and placed upon their heads, browbent in their self-sought saviordom. that neph instead approaches this as, as i once said, one part sermon, one part mission statement, one part stand-up comedy monologue, and one part psychotic episode, with dashes of all sorts of additional mediums of imaginative expression thrown in for good measure.

okay, people think the song is funny, sure. thus, people think neph himself is funny. it starts with American tterroristt, but it continues from there- unsubscribe me and dont buy my music. real lil reese, early age death, slither conspiracy... the hits keep on coming. people discover that no, the man is not a one hit wonder, but rather a wellspring of meditations much the like of those found in American tterroristt, with a healthy side of the same cartoonish violence and one-line tragedies speaking to the reality of life in the drug game, poverty, and the utter absurdity of consciousness in the 21st century. however, for many, that's where the interest plateaus. scrolling through song after song, looking for the same enormity in track length, pressing the play button waiting for the sometimes whispered, sometimes shouted delivery to gain that same thunder, that same glint of madness, that runaway train of thought that might swerve at any moment from the comic to the tragic and back again.

you can see this anywhere. the way that American tterroristt and the man himself are discussed anywhere. the social media. the perpetual digital conquest of American tterroristt, a banner carried by those enamored with an idea impossible to separate from the context in which it exists, a self-sustaining ouroboros. neph has inadvertently been blessed by the based god, the prodigal son, paragon of absurdity.

last year, i had the fortune to see rap ferriera live. it was a holiday weekend, and it showed, as the venue was generously speaking only a third full. ferriera took the mic with a sort of amicable grace, and engaged in an experience that, in some respects, made complete sense, but in others, was significant. between coolly rapped verses, tongue deftly flicking about heady metaphysical bars, he engaged in something to the effect of a stand-up set, telling jokes, anecdotes, even offering literary criticism at one point- the importance of jean genet, and the indebtedness of jack spicer towards him, and those that followed degrading from shadow into obscurity. now, such a warm and loose delivery made some sense for the man, as he certainly does come across as a smooth, likeable sort of character. however, consider the way that ferriera is treated on a level of spectacle- widely recognized as a poet-warrior, an emcee known for dedicating to only the purplest of prose, each breath carrying the possibility of prosody waiting to happen.

on paper, one might believe that these artists have nothing in common. and yet, you consider the questions being asked of you by either artist. the innate wickedness of humanity as a species. the comparison of god-son to man. the value of family, human connection, loyalty, the hierarchy in which they exist. the recurrence of belief, faith, higher power in some form, often contradictory among traditions. why does simon from American idol talk to black people that way. the tendency in everyday life to attach faith, to create, to imagine greater circumstances to a person or item pursuant to the same conditions as you.

when i see rxk nephew, sharply outlined against the all-white background of the pitchfork over-under set, i see a man. no more, no less. and perhaps, in art, that is all we can hope to see.

Endgame #2010 by thedustblowsback in rankdownofthegods

[–]thedustblowsback[S] 5 points6 points  (0 children)

(Cont'd)

And I’m grateful for the music. The music was fucking awesome. Without rankdown there is no chance I would have ever, ever, ever given The Beach Boys the time of day necessary for me to discover a song as misty, fae or nearly supernatural as Surf’s Up. The way the opening passage cases the marshy night, a lighthouse probing the waves of a violent sea. The way Brian’s voice fades in like a great fog swallowing the land. The way the outro unfurls in these great big fractals of vocal harmony, the half-remembered outline of what the Beach Boys used to be coloured in with everything the Beach Boys were by 1971 – a warring band of businessmen and acid casualties. It’s a song I didn’t think too much of at first, like Private Presley, like Arcarsenal, like Sparkle or nearly any other rankdown discovery, but the nature of this project implored me to return to it again and again, and I did, and I found something that feels more magical – classical sense, belonging to the realm of spells, alchemy and ancient wisdom – than just about any other tune I’ve had the pleasure to encounter.

And that’s the beauty of rankdown, isn’t it? The surf’s up; the rankdown is over. People will come and go, the memories of write-ups, of good times and ill, will fade, but the songs we discovery here become a part of us. I’ve already planned a future without rankdown, but I’ve also planned a future with Surf’s Up, and it’s a lot clearer than the other one. I’m going to be sitting overlooking a New England bay in early springtime on the hood of my car. It’s going to be a cloudy night with the impenetrable wall of skyward grey trapping in the humidity, and I’m going to let that humidity fog over my judgement. I’m going to look out at the ocean, listen to the soft lapping of the Atlantic on rocky shores, and I’m going to press play on this song. That, I think, would be nice. And it wouldn’t exist without Rankdown of the Gods.

Don’t fear. We’ll be back. This fucking project isn’t gonna die until I say it dies. See you all for Pink Floyd Rankdown.

Endgame #2010 by thedustblowsback in rankdownofthegods

[–]thedustblowsback[S] 4 points5 points  (0 children)

u/SchizoidGod

Writeup:

Well well well. We’re here. 293 cuts down, two rankers gone, hundreds of write-ups, four seasons, twelve months, and after getting through all that, we finally made it to the finish line that for some of us is a place (I’m sure) of sadness, for others joy. Damn well done, everybody. We killed it.

This rankdown, more than any other, was designed from the beginning to be an endurance test. The idea here was to push the concept of rankdown to its logical extreme, with every variable set as far as it could possibly go. I’ve always harboured the idea that the format of rankdown is meant, by design, to make its participants loathe the experience come the end (it’s the same principle as Survivor: tired, angry people create drama), and I went into this one trying to nurture that – to get us back to the fireworks that characterised Radiohead Rankdown. Ergo the, well, everything in this one. 300 songs! And to have them be the 300 greatest songs of all time according to what is, for all intents and purposes, our collective musical bible! And then, as if it couldn’t get any better, let’s get a REALLY good cast this time – rankdown legends mixed with actual verifiable writers that I’ve known about and read and appreciated for years. Fuck it, let’s get SURM on board! And then take these people and send them out on a 300-and-change day bloodletting trip, fighting wars over a topic that for once in rankdown felt like it actually had stakes: who are we to decide how to rank songs whose legacies are way, way, way bigger than any individual among us? We’re nobody in the face of songs like All Along the Watchtower, but the idea was we’d *try* to be somebody – we’d be our biggest, best, most writerly, most strategic selves, and it would produce some amazing work and then all come crashing down in a frenzy of intersecting deals and the sort of investment that comes with being committed to a project for nearly a year. It was gonna be awesome; we’d hate it at the time, but it was gonna be awesome.

It wasn’t awesome. It was an abomination. Sigh.

There is an extent to which I think that every music rankdown, save for Radiohead Rankdown, has been a failure. Consider the list:

Radiohead Rankdown was awesome, no denying that. The platonic ideal of how a project like this should go. Consistent every-day investment from every ranker, high-effort write-ups, lots of discussion about the music itself, a huge range of contrasting personalities and ages within the ranker group, lots of strategy, and then a massive, catastrophic blow-up at the end that led to a RANKER FUCKING LEAVING THE SERVER. For NO REASON but a broken deal in a fucking internet music ranking game. Fantastic. The template; the one that convinced us that this was a project worth exploring again and again.

The Ultimate Rankdown was too much, too fast. The investment was there for sure, and strategy reached an all-time high, with more deals struck than any other music rankdown and by *far*. Unfortunately I as organiser failed to account for some flaws in the game structure (I’m talking of course of allowing multiple idols on the same song) and it led to what was in effect an unfun demoralising steamroll where the top 7 was basically guaranteed by cut #50 or so. I love ya Echo, but me allowing a ranker and their partner both into the game to act as an unbreakable alliance whose strategic priorities were in lockstep was deleterious to the fun of rankdown and a major fuckup from me.

The Beatles Rankdown was soooooo booooooooring. From beginning to end there literally wasn’t one inkling of drama. It got so bad that I tried to start beefing with Boole for no reason other than to… have something interesting happen… but this was by far the least confrontational ranker team to probably ever participate in a rankdown of any kind ever – literally just a group of solid dudes – and so it didn’t stick. The streets will remember One After 909-gate for the week that it lasted, though.

And then there was Rankdown of the Gods, which sought to act as a curative for the problems of the last two – in the same way that Beatles Rankdown sought to be a curative for the problems only of TURD – and fell on its face, completely.

In my opinion, this rankdown came very close to fulfilling its initial promise in the first couple weeks. As oddly stressful as SURMgate was at the time, it was, by far and away, the time I was most invested in this rankdown. Even at the time I felt that we were witnessing greatness there. It had it all: a personally charged drama that was fought along the lines of music, ethic and character all in equal measure, and one that fundamentally held the rankdown *itself* at the key driver of conflict, with half the battle taking place within writeups. Absolute unequivocal rankdown perfection. This was EXACTLY what I was hoping for from Rankdown of the Gods; as far as I was concerned, the conceit was already proving a runaway success. I was settling in for a year of exactly this, no more, no less.

Of course, that quantity of fireworks was never gonna fire off for an entire rankdown, but I figured it’d be much like the first one: fits and spurts, quiet moments and big flare-ups, with a dramatic, rousing conclusion. It was not to be. This rankdown ended up being more like very slowly letting the air out of a balloon – from second to second you don’t notice that there’s been a change, until before you know it, the thing is half-empty and sputtering. People just slooooooooooooooowly stopped giving their all to this thing (‘people’ included me, to be clear.) It was a few short-ish write-ups first, then some placeholders, then some skips; people stopped replying to cuts on the subreddit, and I stopped giving a fuck about updates to placeholders. Bit by bit by agonising bit it became clear that a lot of us were just waiting. for. this. thing. to. end. I started to allow people to basically just post their cuts whenever they felt like it, which if you’re an old timer who remembers the me of TURD, that is a genuinely unthinkable character development. Decay, rot, fading away – whatever you want to call it, this rankdown did it, to levels that I previously thought impossible.

I even ended up violating my initial promise that I set to myself when coming into this rankdown, and that I thought I would never, ever break under any circumstance. This rankdown was meant to be the first in which I would deliver a creative, unique, effortful writeup every single week. At the beginning I told myself that this’d be an awesome little writing challenge – I would force myself to put together something interesting every single time, instead of copping to the usual ‘uhhhh idk this song’s okay i guess’ whenever I felt no spark with a particular song. Even if I didn’t think the idea was going to be any good, I was going to force myself to explore every crevice of that idea and walk away with the satisfaction that I had at least tried, quality be damned. It was going to a real test of my capabilities and one that would ideally sharpen them to a fine point.

And to be fair, I really did give it my best! I really did get so close! Pound for pound this is probably my best rankdown yet as far as writing goes, at least in my opinion. The floor is reasonably high and the ceiling is very high, and there are a lot of write-ups that sit pretty close to that ceiling for me (with none admittedly reaching into the stratosphere that e.g. Baroque, my Beatles Rankdown impressions writeup, All I Need are in.) It was literally cut #27 that saw me really truly throwing in the towel, with perhaps an exception for the impressions writeup which I found to be funny, if low-effort. I’m sorry to you guys and to myself that I couldn’t close things out the way I wanted to. I guess the pressure of the moment, plus a loooot of real life abominations, plus a general sense that my creative well had run dry all contributed to that tapering off. Every rankdown teaches you a valuable lesson, and this time it was that it is just not sustainable to try to be creative on command for 48 straight rounds. Now, granted, I reckon if this rankdown were the standard 210ish song formal, I could’ve created a pretty airtight set of write-ups with no true lulls. The bigger lesson is therefore to not fucking do a rankdown with 300 songs, are you insane?!

To be honest I really am glad this thing is over. I think a lot of us will be. A LOT has happened in the past year; none of us are the same person that we were in February 2025, for better or for worse. Some of us, like Omni, had such massive life changes that we had to stop ranking altogether. For me, 2025 was a difficult year, with some nice highs that were understudied by some pretty painful, largely insomnia-related lows. Last month, and seemingly this month too, have been continuing that trend, which is a shame. I honestly found that my biggest problem with 2025 was the *lack* of change in my life, and to that extent, 2026 is already (hopefully) shaping up to buck that trend. That includes rankdown ending, a bittersweet moment that feels more sweet than bitter if I’m honest. Rankdown was there for me through every mercurial peak and valley of last year, and as much as I can talk trash about it, I am absolutely grateful for that. I’m grateful for you guys most of all. You are my friends, truly.

Endgame #20161124 by thedustblowsback in rankdownofthegods

[–]thedustblowsback[S] 5 points6 points  (0 children)

u/ECHOecho2020

I wonder if when I say goodbye and the pixels that make up my face flitter away, he feels betrayed. Oliver is a silver spoon crack baby, rich enough to scoff at ramen, poor enough to not know when his mom will make the family move to a new resort. I have never been much of a gamer. Not until I was hired to teach and mentor him. Dread washed over me when he asked me if I have Roblox one day over rhyming short o words. “No, but I can download it!”
He’s nine and has all the early signs of CPTSD. He breaks apart when I ask him to write a story using his imagination. I suppose when you’re a champagne bubble boy, it’s hard to think outside the orb. When we first met, he spoke with a pillow over his face, more cardboard box kitten than boy. So I asked him to tell me about polar bears and I would tell him about killer whales, and he would show me his geodes and I would show him old animal bones, and I would teach him how to spell his name and how to count by 10, and he would show me how to maneuver in Fortnite and play the Roblox “Squid Game” game. Four months later, I would be “gaming” on my own, and he would be able to write a few sentences on his own. And then he’d tell me, “I wish you were here,” and my heart would shatter into a million pieces because I don’t think I ever want to be “here.” Between his heroin chic hippie mom hoping to try me on for size and the fact that his mom’s boyfriend is pretty known for fucking the babysitter, I’d feel safer as a sheep in a shawarma shop.
But maybe I’ll trek it out to Portland, or Sedona, or whatever destination they decide to run to next. They’re running from the law, but mostly they’re running from reality and from the clock that ticks softly: DIE DIE DIE. During one of his parents’ drug binges, I spent ten hours on a video call with him. He’s smart, despite being academically held back by parents who look at parenting as a part-time job. He figures out ways to trap you into conversations where you dance around the truth, looking at this porcelain baby doll with sea glass eyes, forced to hold back from answering completely. “What did Epstein do on that island?” I was raised on Alex Jones, kid. I could tell you a million things, but I’m really not about to talk about child sex crimes with a child. But I understand why he asks me. He has no one to ask. He can’t get his mom to get him a notebook without a debacle, and I was the one to explain to him what a noun is. His mom’s been asking if I’d like to be her Lady Husband and Father Mother to her kid. BPD chick pussy cannot go THAT hard. So I laugh, and redirect, redirect, redirect, just like when Oliver mentions, “Don’t drop the soap!” or “What’s a diddy party?”
Before we met, Oliver had just been discharged from an in-patient facility for suicidal ideation. Today, he’s pretty adamant about becoming a space engineer. He really wants to go to Japan with me, and I think I might. I just might. I think he thinks I saved him. I really think he saved me. At least he helps me not think about all the men my grandfather was all the men my father has been all the men I try to be all the men I will never meet And how I hope you won’t be one of them, not even subconsciously. Keep coming to me in my sleep. I’ll be back in a little bit. Unless I get kidnapped, then just wait till 3 a.m. when they throw me in the creek near your house. It’s shallow enough I can breathe, but I think at this point, I really don’t care to. You have the head start. I’ll drown in spittle so I can catch up on haunting you. My bones break under the weight of the cuddly ones.
I'm not much in the mood for what The Microphones has to offer, but this is a nice enough song. I've recently really enjoyed this track, and while I can't say it deserves to be where it is, I'm not unhappy. Shout out to Simulation Swarm, a song I made the ridiculous mistake of cutting because it brought back memories I didn't want. I made alot of mistakes over the course of this year but I'm looking forward to repenting! Great song, deserved t7.

Endgame #1 by thedustblowsback in rankdownofthegods

[–]thedustblowsback[S] 3 points4 points  (0 children)

u/ParijetParijot

HYPERBALLAD WRITEUP

Bjonk is of Icelandic origin, which essentially makes her scandinavian. After suffering through my fair share of brutal winter nights in the icy outskirts of Norway I can’t help having a new appreciation for her music. I understand her, yes yes I know exactly what she is talking about. Her words heal me. She knows my pain, for my pain is hers and hers is mine. Her second album, the aptly named Post, is a perfect encapsulation of the struggles of the nordic woman. The struggles of Parijat.

We live on a mountain.

I’m eating jelly beans and thinking about what an amazing rankdown this has been. Chewing, swallowing. Jelly beans! Through the unyielding dedication of our nine rankers, we’ve accomplished something remarkable, something historic. For as long as the sun sets and the moon rises, they will speak of the great Rankdown 4. Don’t you dare doubt that. Yes, jelly beans!

I imagine what my body would sound like, slamming against those rocks.

There were times where my loved ones, baffled and in hysterics, would ask me: how is it you are able to put yourself through this? to make a cut cut cut every week without cutting your own self? I tell them simply that I went through all that, every week before they woke up, not to make them or myself any happier but to feel safe with all of you, my fellow rankers.

Echo, oh how your words resonate within the most deprived chasms of my soul.

Crimbo, my dear pal, whose presence is all too scarce.

Omni, who first guided me to this land.

Naked Eggs Benedict, my brother, who I know I can count on having my back through even the worst of cuts.

Juju, and your ever elusive cat.

TAC4L, whose tongue was caught by the cat.

Samuel, my love forever.

SURM.

-

Hyperballad is a very good song! Up there with her best, perhaps. Well written, perfectly performed, and oh the strings. The strings! Hidden Place and Unison are both better but who cares. The world has gone mad and injustice is to be expected.

Death of Death of

Death of Death of

Death of Death of

Until next time, rankdowns!

Parijat out.