In art how often do we refer to a painting that has been created in times of personal computers? Whose idea was it to put the “art” in artificial? How often do we hear a record that is purely performed by musicians not quantized standing alone in a room and digitally tuned soulless, dynamic range reduced to binary pulses on and off in a computer? Where the nuances are not subliminal product placements and political suggestions designed to hack your brain at the most primal level of the subconscious for maximum compliance.
It is less technology assisted more digitally perfected, how long before we see the performing artist credited second to the computer, when the PC joins the union? The music is created less from emotion more formulaic equation; beats, chords, melody, lyric, print and repeat; like a neat collated stapled set at the end of a digital copier. The music is harmonically predictable, tempo methodically and wholly uninteresting for our palettes as it is merely a product pasteurized and refined for bland consumption, instant out of the package and ready to eat...no need to digest just empty calories. And where do the artists look when they find their product lacking the emotion and soul of their creativity? Technology. We need more accurate time pieces, the perfectly tuned digital hallelujah chorus at the click of a button, rack and virtual racks of the most crisp, clear, fat, vintage, three dimensional, warm, open technological buzzwords, to bring life to a performance that is quantized and tuned to death. Airbrush and mask every blemish, every mole, every hair, destroy anything that could possibly make our new botox shot silicone stuffed flesh bag look human.
Where do the consumers turn when they frown at the sound of music lacking soul and any lingering sense of humanity at 140dbSPL throttled to the seat through sub woofers and tweeters like 360 degrees of megaphones clicking on, off, on off....binary? The Black Dots of Death. They turn to technology, more high definition, transformer balanced, tube-driven, gold-plated, 1 gigawatt of Dolby sound, streaming satellite iPod of digital consciousness to maximize the potential of each sine wave rushing at their ears. From each transducer erupts bland hysteria like clockwork propaganda in rock solid militant perfection , crystal clear digitally preserved; a performance only a computer could efficiently appreciate. If humans create art for machines then what do they in return create for us? Nothing but a perfect digital copy, nothing more, nothing less.. Discarded like lepers quarantined because of the disease raging rapidly of raw human emotion, The Black Dots of Death emerged frustrated and disgusted but mostly inspired to instigate change and proselytize with a new process to create true art as unique as it is human. From the post-apocalyptic nuclear fallout democratic republican robotic dictatorship terrarium emerges unapologetic truth in sound from conception, abandoning and questioning all existing commandments and structure, pouring new foundation and laying brick and mortar to create something entirely their own, not the offspring of a computer.
The Black Dots of Death are brought together like collectors at a serial killer convention on the outskirts of town, only we are not benign enjoying uncomfortable small talk over coffee, we are festering and pulsing to the march of electronic sequences and test tones. The human voice infects and cultivates speaking in persistent reverse exorcism against the raw elements to prepare the mind for dark and dissonant guitar driven melodies, creating a landscape from which broken tones and uncontrollable sirens and electronic infernal devices may be groomed. You are held to Earth no longer by gravity but by the chains of bass and sub-bass frequencies. Only then does stick pound dents into membranes and metal to create a wall of sound like a thousand foot 360 degree tidal wave to your cranium, destroying everything you think you know about music and art. Born again.
Standing Alone
The Black Dots of Death Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
God my maker, the Devil my friend
Which side to choose in the end?
Whichever side showers me
With gifts cars and drug money
God my maker, the Devil my friend
The one that's winning of course see
I'm built of pure hypocrisy
The king of bullshit I'll tell no lies
Unless it's better on the other side
Take your purse please pay no mind
an I.O.U., sealed and signed
Don't believe me? Look inside.
By that time I'll be in my ride
Halfway to Georgia on the other side
(Halfway to Georgia on the other side)
God my maker, the Devil my friend
Which side to choose in the end
Whichever side showers me
With gifts cars and drug-money
Maybe, baby, I don't know
I've slit my throat a mile ago
I've changed my mind, I just don't know
Give me the knife or slit your throat
I have arrived on the other side
Otherwise, later guys
I'll take a risk and improvise
Out of sight, out of mind
Don't ask me, don't ask why
No matter what you say, I'll deny
No matter what you say, I will lie
No matter what you say, this rule applies
God is my maker the devil is my friend
Which side will I choose in the end
Whichever side showers me
With gifts cars and drug money
Maybe, baby, I don't know
I slit my throat a mile ago
I've changed my mind, I just don't know
Give me the knife or slit your throat
Maybe baby I don't know
I slit my throat a mile ago
I've changed my mind I just don't know
Give me the knife or slit your throat
Maybe baby I don't know
I slit my throat a mile ago
I've changed my mind I just don't know
Give me the knife or slit your throat
Maybe baby I don't know
I slit my throat a mile ago
I've changed my mind I just don't know
Give me the knife or slit your throat
Maybe baby I don't know
I slit my throat a mile ago
I've changed my mind I just don't know
Give me the knife or slit your throat
The Black Dots of Death's song "Standing Alone" explores the inner turmoil of someone struggling with their morality and the decision between good and evil. The lyrics suggest that the person is torn between God, their maker, and the devil, their friend. They question which side to choose, highlighting their hypocrisy as they are lured in by whichever side shows them the most rewards - gifts, cars, and drug money. The lyrics also suggest that the person is willing to lie and deny despite their initial claims of telling the truth.
The verse "Maybe, baby I don't know, I slit my throat a mile ago, I've changed my mind, I just don't know, give me the knife or slit your throat" suggests a sense of hopelessness and desperation. The person doesn't know what to do, and in their confusion, they are willing to take extreme measures, even to the point of self-harm or harm to others. The line "Maybe baby I don't know, I've changed my mind, I just don't know" echoes the sense of confusion and indecisiveness.
Overall, the lyrics suggest an inner struggle of someone caught between good and evil, within themselves and their choices. They struggle to find clarity and are willing to do anything to get it, even if it means sacrificing their own life or others.
Line by Line Meaning
God my maker, the Devil my friend
I am conflicted between good and evil, with no clear choice to make
Which side to choose in the end?
I am unsure of which path to follow, and fear the consequences of choosing incorrectly
Whichever side showers me
With gifts cars and drug money
I am easily swayed by material possessions and the lure of wealth and power
The one that's winning of course see
I'm built of pure hypocrisy
I will align myself with the side that appears to be winning, even if it goes against my own beliefs
The king of bullshit I'll tell no lies
Unless it's better on the other side
I see myself as an expert in deception, and will not hesitate to switch allegiances if it benefits me
Take your purse please pay no mind
an I.O.U., sealed and signed
Don't believe me? Look inside.
By that time I'll be in my ride
Halfway to Georgia on the other side
I have no qualms about cheating or stealing to get what I want, and will flee the scene without hesitation
Maybe, baby, I don't know
I've slit my throat a mile ago
I've changed my mind, I just don't know
Give me the knife or slit your throat
I am consumed by self-doubt and indecision, and am willing to resort to extreme measures to escape my own mind
I have arrived on the other side
Otherwise, later guys
I'll take a risk and improvise
Out of sight, out of mind
I have escaped my problems and moved on to a new chapter in my life, unconcerned with the consequences of my actions
Don't ask me, don't ask why
No matter what you say, I'll deny
No matter what you say, I will lie
No matter what you say, this rule applies
I am a chronic liar and will deny any wrongdoing, even in the face of overwhelming evidence
Maybe baby I don't know
I slit my throat a mile ago
I've changed my mind I just don't know
Give me the knife or slit your throat
I am trapped in a cycle of self-destructive behavior and am willing to hurt myself or others to escape
Contributed by Christopher O. Suggest a correction in the comments below.