Using first and third-person narration, “The Lamb” tells the story of Rael, a former gang member and graffiti artist (“Rael Imperial Aerosol Kid”). The album begins with Rael stepping out of the Times Square subway station where he has just tagged his name. As he emerges, a lamb lies down on Broadway, causing a cloud-like “wall of death” to descend on Forty-seventh Street. (In true-to-life fashion, nobody but Rael seems to notice the cloud or the lamb.) The wall pursues Rael north towards Columbus Circle, finally absorbing him. Once in the cloud, Rael sees a hallucinatory procession of images from American history and popular culture: Martin Luther King, Jr., Bing Crosby, Lenny Bruce, J.F.K., and Howard Hughes among them. He blacks out and wakes up in a cave, which he soon realizes is a cage. There is a flash and he sees a network of such cages strung together, like an image from “The Matrix.” Outside Rael’s cage is his brother John, who ignores Rael’s pleas for help and walks away.
Rael pursues John through a series of encounters that can be read as literal or metaphorical—or both. Rael witnesses “the grand parade of lifeless packaging,” finds himself among the “carpet crawlers” who are writhing across the floor towards a door. Later he meets Death himself, “the Supernatural Anaesthetist,” and enters a pool with the Lamias, who eat his flesh. Rael’s journey climaxes at the colony of the Slippermen, where he becomes one of their vile number, his body covered in sores and slimy lumps. The only escape from the colony is through the help of the notorious Doktor Dyper, who removes Rael’s genitals and places them in a tube. The tube is stolen by a bird, which flies away. Pursuing the bird, Rael sees a portal back to New York City, but elects to remain in the cloud when he notices his brother struggling in the rapids of a river. He dives in and saves John only to discover that his brother’s face is his own.
“I believe it’s harder to make a good photo of joy than it is of misery. Misery pushes all the buttons: it’s thorny and tough. Therefore you just shoot it, and the message is there. But joy is more tricky.”—Ed Templeton
“I learned how to drink champagne a while ago. But the way I like to drink champagne is I like to make what we call a Montana Cooler, where you buy a case of champagne and you take all the bottles out, and you take all the cardboard out, and you put a garbage bag inside of it, then you put all the bottles back in and then you cover it with ice, and then you wrap it up and you close it. And that will keep it all cold for a weekend and you can drink every single bottle. And the way I like to drink it in a big pint glass with ice. I fill it with ice and I pour the champagne in it, because champagne can never be too cold. And the problem people have with champagne is they drink it and they crash with it, because the sugar content is so high and you get really dehydrated. But if you can get the ice in it, you can drink it supremely cold and at the same time you’re getting the melting ice, so it’s like a hydration level, and you can stay at this great level for a whole weekend. You don’t want to crash. You want to keep that buzz, that bling, that smile.”—Bill Murray on drinking champagne
“…this solitude which can no longer be erased from your life; which, in everything that is in store for you to experience and to do, will act as an anonymous influence, continuously and gently decisive, rather as the blood of our ancestors incessantly moves in us and combines with our own to form the unique, unrepeatable being that we are at every turning of our life.”—Rainer Maria Rilke (via acekieffer)
“ALL CLOTHES MAKE A STATEMENT WHETHER YOU WANT THEM TO OR NOT. STONEWASHED JEANS AND A BEAT TO DEATH SWEATSHIRT ON A FATHER OF FOUR AT O’HARE MAKES A STATEMENT: “I AIN’T GOT THE TIME OR FUCKED UP PRIORITIES IT WOULD REQUIRE ME TO FORGO MY CHILDREN’S NEEDS TO FOCUS ON WHAT MILL MAKES MY DAD JEANS.” That same look on a stylist/designer also makes a statement: “I CAN TAKE THESE SHITTY, UNCOOL CLOTHES THAT NO ONE WANTS AND MAKE THEM COOL BECAUSE THAT’S JUST HOW FUCKING COOL I AM.””—Moycore.