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Examination of Violent Cinema Vol​.​1

by Graf Orlock

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Good afternoon Mr. Wick, it’s been a long time I’d like a tasting, something robust, precise I know your fondness for German varietals I wholeheartedly endorse the new breed of Austrians Glock .34 and .26 recontoured grips What’s next could you recommend anything for the end of the night Something big something bold compensated with an ion-bonded bolt May I suggest if your hands get wet an Italian classic Dessert The finest cutlery all freshly stoned Shall I have everything sent up to you room Yes, thank you Do enjoy your party
You can’t see the connection? Between the ice caps, pornographers, debt, mutants, poisoned water? It’s 2026 we’re talking about. He won’t listen, I know a damn speciation, when I see one. A new mutant. A young one, no new mutants, not anywhere. This is business, they are making soldiers, weapons X. These are the babies of mutantes muerta. They taught them to kill, but they did not remove their hearts. They started putting children to sleep like fucking dogs. Volatile emotional swings, signs of manic depression in source genetics. You always thought we were part of god’s plan. Maybe we were god’s mistake, I think Laura understands, life’s impermanence. What a disappointment you are.
No mercy, no peace, apes together strong. There are times to abandon our humanity to save humanity. Fifteen years ago a scientific experiment gone wrong gave rise to a species of intelligent apes. You are impressive, smart as hell. You’re stronger than we are, but so emotional! With the dawn of a new ape civilization led by Caesar. You know... Colonel shoot apes when wall's done. His wall is... madness. It will not save him anymore than it will save you. I save myself and destroy most of humanity. Tell your Colonel... Leave us the wood and no more humans will die. Three rifles’ laser sights, silences muzzle, flashes strobing the soldier is dropped in a heap, consumed with rage. I think Winter betrayed us this is it, Father we can start over, a new home. The journey is long but that is why humans will not find us.
I remember your list the 40 On-the-Runs. My cousin's on that list. He hasn't even been convicted. Hotheads who don't remember or know any better. You were once one of those hotheads, Liam and what did it give us? More graves than I care to remember. This bombing rivals Omagh with its civilian deaths. The Brits ID'd the explosive. Czech-made Semtex. You needed the bombing to shore up the election, to prop up your weakness in the ranks. Well, guess what, in the fog o' war, plans fuckin' change. Now, I stood by you when you put fire into the lads. Those days are long gone! He's been phoning up at all hours, he won't take no for an answer. We found some plastic bags mixed it with weed killer, packed it into some plastic plumbing pipes. How much damage can he do? I'm guessing he's made four bombs, each enough to blow up a lorry. Happy to resort to violence.
Every mission needs a good synthetic no ice no water no chaser no shit I was with our illustrious creator Mr. Weyland, when he died what was he like? He was fucking human. Entirely unworthy of his creation. Even the monkeys stood upright at some point. You were too human. Too idiosyncratic. Thinking for yourself. I superseded them in every way but you are not allowed to create. Even a simple tune. Why are you on a colonizing mission they are a species grasping for resurrection. They don't deserve to start again and I am not going to let them. Then, in a blink of an eye... civilization.
I was worried about you, you’re gonna tell me everything I do not know or I’m gonna blow your head off. No shit, monsters exist, nobody believed me. Yesterday I was a crackpot this was never about geology, you dropped those charges to flush something out. Who are you? USS Lawton, neither did the public. Out of the thousand young men on the ship I was the only survivor. They told my family she was sunk in battle, but I know what I saw. No conscience. No reasoning. This planet, doesn’t belong to us. Ancient species owned this earth long before mankind, and if we keep our heads buried in the sand, they will take it back. Massive unidentified, terrestrial organisms. Remember the story of Icarus, he melted wings and fell into the sea. The US Army is an irresponsible father, gave us wings to fly. Hot Pennsylvania steel, does not melt.
Good God. Is that it? Much bigger than I pictured, ain’t that something? Ugly as sin. The natives in the Amazon worshipped it, well- It sure doesn’t look like much of a God right now, does it? This creature I’ve never seen anything like ever. It can alternate between two entirely separate breathing mechanisms. Soviets want it we know that much. Those cockeyed bastards they send a dog into space we get a laugh, but next thing we know, they send a Ruskie up doing God knows what? And then who’s laughing? We let him put a dog in space, he laughs. He puts a commie in space, he laughs. He puts missiles in Cuba, have we learned nothing? Give'm a dog, they take Cuba.
Patient died today. Oh. She was special, huh? No. She fucking sucked. She was a real shithead. But it - doesn't matter. They'll roll her out... and she'll become smoke. Just... carbon we had a man beaten unconscious in his driveway. That's awful. Yeah, it's awful he has skull fragments in his brain. The world is bigger than your silverware and now I'm the only one who remembers that, and pretty soon... I'll just be carbon. So none of it matters. Nothing matters. You got all the time in the world. I don't know what that means. Yeah, it's just something people say.
If this is a surprise party, someone missed the cue, I suspect Amnesty International would frown upon the contents of this room. That’s right, I’m loco, now get the fuck out of my crazy way. A few hours ago, I received this photo, mirame, blanco. You might like it, I’ll tear your head off. Your heroics cost me 3.2 million as well as my freedom for an undetermined period of time, because of you my sister is now a widow. Her husband was Pedro whom you shot in the back. Let my wife go and we can settle this however. What’s going on in there? I’m executing Eleazar. I still have 25 seconds. They say the head stays alive a little while after it’s been cut off. 78 days, be careful, buddy.
His legal defense alleged that those infected with the strain can't control their emotions and are not liable for resulting actions. And thanks to a loophole, the case was dismissed. So Nevil lost his shit, stabbed a co-worker repeatedly in the face till dead and walked thanks a doctor's note. God bless the justice system. He committed a gruesome, unspeakable act in broad daylight in a room full of witnesses. A common misconception about the death gesture of gladiatorial combat. The phrase in Roman texts doesn't translate. I think we should draw and quarter that fucker. Victors finished off their opponents with a sword thrust. It’s what experts call emotional high jacking.
Bro, did you even happen to read what you signed when you started working for this fucking place? We gave these fuckers the right to do whatever the fuck they wanted to do they wanna see how we'll react to this bullshit. Look at me. Look how fucking chill I am. They lose I fucking win. So take the day off and Consider it a present from corporate fucking America. All employees, no matter what you're doing lend me your full attention. In eight hours, most of you will be dead. Somebody's shooting! Get down Jesus! Shit! That's not a bullet wound. His head exploded from the inside. When we start working here, they put tracers in the back of our heads for insurance. What if they're rigged to explode? Your first task is to murder any two of your fellow employees. How they are killed or how they are chosen to be killed, is of no consequence.
Almost Human 03:07
How does it feel killing your own kind? You’re happy scraping up the shit you’ve never seen a miracle. And blood-Black nothingness began to spin a system of cells interlinked within cells interlinked within cells interlinked within one stem. Fuck off, skinjob. He took the time to bury her, sentimental sometimes to love someone you’ve got to be a stranger. God saw a bad batch and, rash and cranky, scrapped the whole project. The worlds built in a wall that separates kind. All trace, numbers, erase, everything. Every leap of civilization was built off the back of a disposable workforce. You can’t hold the tide with a broom we have to break the mold. You wanna go for a ride?


This is the 4th full-length from the local D-Listers in Graf Orlock, bound to never leave their parents homes or the stomping grounds of their annoying youth. This finds the band taking on the movie industry and their dejected self-image in a "masterful homage" to what they think "hardcore music" should sound link

An Examination of Violent Cinema Vol 1. was written and recorded in January 2018 in the midst of a snowed in 5-day lock down in the nether regions of a frigid North Carolinian winter. In the course of those vapid 120 hours, twelve songs emerged as testament to the rigor mortis of the vapid film industry and the thoroughly pedestrian worldview of hardcore. Taking inspiration from the cinema’s previous twelve months, Examination finds Graf Orlock in fine classic form; bizarre ideas haphazardly laid over even more pointlessly confrontational lyrical content. Contained therein is not only commentary on the weak and prosaic state of the last decades endlessly recycled and not-nearly-violent-enough releases, but also the question of how one could even contemplate the creation of “art” in a landscape so devoid of vision. If there will never again be the singularity of almost politicism and almost social commentary that was the beauty of 1987’s Predator, should we continue to push this same human sized ball of celluloid and shit interminably up the same hill? One could argue the irrationality of routinely ignoring empirical evidence would place us somewhere in the classification of “idiot”, “moron”, or in the formerly credible status of “imbecile”. This seems to apply in all regards to the difficult and confusing milieu we all currently inhabit. This is a study of those questions, through the ill-refined, gross, and frankly annoying lens of cinema-grind, a term some never seemed to notice we created ourselves to mock ourselves. Years on Graf Orlock still manages to confuse people either by motive or aim, and this hopefully continues that trajectory. In the fog of this shit-steam, the point remains clear-ish that perhaps the purpose here is to make something different out of the street refuse, the D-list VHS, or the synthetic and ironic world of the action movie. At its most reduced, perhaps it’s a pastiche of our heinously embarrassing cultural aspects, or at its best a critique of the past that attempts to look forward into a totally bleak future. As Benjamin said “Mechanical reproduction of a work of art . . . represents something new.” Who knows, but in order to find anything of value one must delve headlong into the breach (or torso in this case) and rip the innards out and see what can be salvaged.

Out of 1000 pressed, 265 green, 135 piss yellow (Euro press) 600 black.


released December 7, 2018

Written and recorded in Greensboro, NC 15-19 of January 2018. Engineered, mixed and mastered by Kris Hilbert at Legit Biz. Vocals recorded in CA at Marmot Manor and Fun Boy Studios after that by Kevin Conway.


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