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Hired Goons

by Mason Guerrero

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stacistacisxxx
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stacistacisxxx Mas Guerrero's finest hour. :)

Although the instruments used may seem goofy at first, but there's a thick layer of sincerity, emotion and suspense in these songs.

Listen a few times and you'll notice it. It's definitely not Macula Dog, where its full on weird. haha Favorite track: Man Made Hill.
hello_kind_spirit
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hello_kind_spirit Goons sat in a zip file in my downloads folder for a while even after listening to the album a few times online. I suppose I was waiting for a special occasion to open it and give the whole album the attention it deserves. Or maybe I was nervous it wouldn't live up to Salon Pus. I feel stupid for putting it off for so long because it is a listening experience that rivals its predecessor. Every chaotic, gooey, squelchy, and abrasive moment feels meticulously structured and crafted. Favorite track: Laminated!.
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  • Limited Edition Cassette
    Cassette + Digital Album

    Each tape comes with a custom illustration and a unique easter egg on each recording. Edition of 24.

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  • Hired Goons Reissue
    Cassette + Digital Album

    Another 25 copies of Hired Goons, now with new artwork in the J-card and customized paint jobs on each tape!

    Includes unlimited streaming of Hired Goons via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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1.
2.
Laminated! 04:17
3.
Asbestos shreds a hole in my lung As I put on a DVD The pimps at the door, couldn’t wait no more So they gave me until the count of 3 All jokes aside I thought I would die As they aimed a gun for my head The fellow in yellow asked me with a sigh Why the pill I chose wasn’t red I just didn’t care so I went there and kicked him square in the jaw They called me a nerd and ate my hors d’oeuvre And spat in my foie gras They laid out a map and threw down a dart with the coordinates pointed to LA With my hand on the button and fear in my heart I submerged and things started to go grey
4.
Dip your spine in turpentine Dip your spine in turpentine Dip your spine in turpentine Bide your time within the slime A crook Approaches You’re restrained to the grid The jpeg of the cheat sheet Carbon dated, artifactual My windows made of Pyrex and I gotta wear mitts to touch the knobs Ocean levels at my door Pricking my finger and signing my name with the blood To override the Captcha Trash bags on the ceiling and a sweepstakes supply of vapor rub Perfect for my ersatz womb Hunger pangs strikes, whats in the fridge? Slurping away. Just the freak. Drinking my last Soylent, you devil! Optimal. Living. Standards. Standard. Oracle. Reading. A bone. My bone.
5.
6.
Chump 00:39
Like a chump!
7.
Re-energize me? Pump my arms with guarana Make my sweat run green Make my tongue hurt! Wielding gauntlets on a chain I attack, there’s your brain Dungeon floors Healing potion read the bottle, just a lotion In my garden, grow appendage Weapon: fist plus one damage Trapdoor, my door Creepy cellar Ripped off by a fortune teller Come to my house Take a seat upon my sofa You won’t see me But i’ll be there Ghosts materialize in my corners Sterilizing all the borders The dust you’ve missed Got me pissed Now I gotta call in sick You can find me in the garage Dumbbells raised, clank barrage Metal on metal Foot to the pedal Thanks to whey and gains I get swole
8.
Formaldehyde 02:03
Our smiles preserved in formaldehyde FLOATING BLOATING Looking fresh but only hollow inside ERODING FOREBODING The finest specimens on display STAGNANT FRAGMENT Hundred years strong of no decay JUICING FLOATING Our smiles forever in formaldehyde FLOATING BLOATING Looking fresh but only mummified ERODING FORBODING
9.
10.
Synergy! what a blessing! I adjust my toupee as my boss walks by My screensaver deactivates with his closest step I’m acknowledged for all the good things I have done and those of my colleagues (All around) me are familiar faces Shining faces that are on to good things as well We are the heart, the brain and the spine of this department. We could share this throne to success. I unwrap my lunch, lean back in my chair Dream about having a corner office 4 times the size of mine with my BBA in the most extravagant of frames Copy Paste
Copy Copy Paste Paste Command F Shit Copycopycopycopy Pastepastepastepaste I’m just a Phat Pharm looking for my Baby Phat
11.
12.
Losing your teeth but you can borrow mine told you not to drink that punch but its okay, you can still borrow mine Drive your cherry red Corvette Into the castle Disco dentist is washing his scalpel (sic)
13.

about

In 2016, a focus group conducted by TrysterexCorp subjected 8 volunteers to a series of tests, disclosing the experimental procedures would “augment brain activity and optimize work efficiency by means of artificial, expedited neuroplasticity.” The tests would partake over the span of two years, promising shelter and handsome compensation once completed. A minor trepanation was required to insert the probe containing a small, chipped vial of the bioengineered chemical codenamed “Elixir 12”, which after studies of its effects on cockroaches revealed it eliminates the need for sleep, hunger, nullified acting upon any primal urges and could commandeer a digital hive mind to neurally transmit specific objectives, thus overriding free will of the body and mind. After the surgeries, they were lead to their quarters in the basement of TrysterexCorp’s headquarters and activated the vials for their first dosage. The chip distributed only 0.00001 cc of the serum daily at the stroke of midnight and the results were immediate. First few tests were simple, observing vitals and reactions to stimuli and only giving them a tube of nutrient slurry pumping through their veins to keep them healthy. Little did the subjects know they were coaxed by a clause in their lengthy contracts reading the tasks they would accomplish was in conjunction with BrainEngine Inc, an internet marketing company interested in targeting advertisements via telepathy; all they needed were human subjects as mediums to create a subliminal archive of every human desire that could be capitalized on and stored away in a ersatz brain codenamed “The Geek.” The subjects were nicknamed “the martyrs” and deemed expendable and necessary for the progress of human experience. Placed in front of a screen, forced to search the most desolate, sordid corners of the internet, all to record the subconscious reaction of being exposed to an endless slew of information. However, due to a glitch in the chip’s dosage reader left over from the beta testing, the dose suddenly leaped exponentially to 0.0001 cc, then 0.001, etc, causing gradual, rollercoaster cognitive dissonances over the span of a few days. Sometimes there would be strong abject to information once seen as pleasurable and magnetic attractions to nefarious things, interchanging indeterminately within the span of seconds. The researchers were baffled by their sudden onslaught of petrifying terror counteracted with hysterical laughter but physical inability to stop scrolling and unglue their eyes from the screen. Finally, the entire vial injected the two year supply of Elixir 12 into their brains and the overdose created grand hallucinations. Visions of God, creation, death and cybernetic beings (angel/demon hybrids) began to manifest itself into their hiveminds and caused their bodies to move ecstatically, sporadically in perfect synchronization. An unexpected side effect to say the least. The dichotomy of the digital realm and physical realm began to meld and have no discernible difference. They envisioned Heaven, which was a gated neighborhood they called the “Etherplace” and only obtainable to those who sacrifice their physical beings to their designated cause, a sandbox landscape unlimited potential for creation. They also envisioned Hell, dubbed “Babylonline” for those who give in to Earthly temptation and sloth, sitting in a cubicle of the infinity office and forced to sift through corrupted data and reassemble the digital debris pixel by pixel for all eternity. Visitations of the cybernetic beings exposing them both mercy and complete moral deterioration with no discernable reasoning deterred their path to ultimate knowledge. God was the hub of the internet, giver of content, creator of the digital realm. They loved and feared it, screamed when they saw its face in their visions. The worship of binary, good and evil, light and dark, making up the fabric of their universe, all things they rambled on about in their neverending religious frenzy. All flashing and creating life from a primordial soup and killing it with the heat death of the universe infinite times in their milliseconds long waking dreams within dreams, relentless but entirely lucid in the glow of the screen. Because of this unexpected turn, the researchers realized the liability, societal scrutiny and scorn they would receive if the experiment was ever made public. So they decided to build a brick wall in the entrance to the basement and have the religiously galvanized, overstimulated subjects ride out their God delusions until they die. Brains too ill to ever lead a normal life. The files were burned and any outside evidence of Elixir 12 was disposed of. BrainEngine Inc ended their contract and continued with their routine brain scans on dogs watching YouTube playlists as test subjects. With the lack of supervision and a dire need for morale, they used discarded, industrial lab equipment, obsolete sound cards, Soulseek sample packs and cracked MIDI software to create primitive, Neanderthal-like musical pieces praising this God, warning of Hell and the desire to someday be raptured from their laboratory prison into the Etherplace. These are their hymns. The hymns of the Hired Goons.

credits

released October 31, 2018

Gabber drums by PERPETRATOR
Lyrics by Kate Bush, Fred Durst and Mason Guerrero
All other instruments/artwork by Mason Guerrero
(No plug-ins or softsynths were used in the recording of this album. Physical gear baby!)
Font by Toynbee Tiler
Mastered lovingly by Danny Spiteri
Special thanks to Ben Gellinger, Kassidy Penso, Austin Cook, Danny Spiteri, and you, the listener.

[PS-09]

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Mason Guerrero Los Angeles, California

Cave dweller

Booking: sherifframb@gmail.com

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