One morning in 1995, I woke up from an incredibly fucked-up and scary dream. Before I got out of bed, I wrote the story of the dream on paper while all the details were still fresh.
When the story started, it was late evening - twilight. The sky was a strange color and there was panic on the streets and in the news on TV and radio. Cars didn’t work so everyone was fleeing the cities on foot and on bicycles. I hadn’t heard the news and was confused. It was clear I had to get out too, so I stole a bike and followed the people. The roads were covered in two or three inches of powdery ash. Along the way to wherever we were going, there were checkpoints where people in uniforms were inspecting peoples’ IDs. As we rode, cyclists were sharing whatever info they had and I learned that everyone was instructed to report to camps that had been set up.
After biking for hours, I reached the site. It was like a summer camp or an army barracks with crude, hastily-built wooden bunk houses divided into small rooms that each slept two people. Wandering the grounds were distressed men dressed in tuxedos, each carrying a large burlap sack. I found a room with an unclaimed bed and asked the other occupant what was up with the tuxedo people. He explained that they were tasked with collecting the carcasses of dead animals which were strewn all over the ground in seemingly endless number. He told me that to avoid this and other grim tasks, obey all orders and keep quiet. Then he told me I should report to the gymnasium for a basketball game at 9:00 PM.
Near the end of the basketball game, I had the ball and was on a fast break. I had a clear path to the hoop and an opportunity to dunk the ball but instead pulled up for a short jumper and missed. My team won the game but I was deeply disappointed in myself and so after the gym cleared out, I practiced on my own for about 20 minutes, mostly doing acrobatic dunks. When I finished, I went to the locker room. A tuxedo hung on a hook in the otherwise empty room. There was a note pinned to the jacket. It read: ‘put this on’.
I then proceeded to an enormous assembly hall where all the residents of the camp were gathered and seated, all wearing tuxedos now. At the front of the room was a table, behind which were three chairs. An announcement was made, informing us that if a person volunteered to sit in the middle chair, they’d be given 30 dollars. If no one volunteered, a person would be selected at random and they would not be paid. A guy my age stepped forward. He was crying because he was scared. He looked like a kid named Jeff Libby, who I knew from my elementary school days. Then, uniformed personnel of the camp searched the assembly hall for the two people in the room who most closely resembled the guy in the middle chair. Once located, those two individuals sat in the chairs on either side of the first guy. The process was repeated six times. Each person who had taken a seat at the table was given a burlap sack and was escorted out of the hall for dead animal collection.
At the end of the assembly, an announcement was made that the rest of us had a choice: to go to bed or to the theater to watch a movie. I chose the movie. It was the most exciting, action-packed movie I had ever seen. The audience was in an uproar. At the climax of the movie, the driver of an orange 18-wheeler attempted to jump his truck over a lake. The cab of the rig was filled with garbage and pornographic magazines. The truck hit the ramp at an incredible speed and took flight but crashed into the water, short of the shore on the far side of the lake. Credits rolled.
The next morning, I hiked through the woods in a small group led by the same person who refereed the basketball game the night before. The mood was gloomy. Dead animals were everywhere. In the distance, shrouded by fog, large machinery rumbled. The referee pointed at a faraway spot on the horizon. I looked and saw mountains, which I had never seen before (in the dream or in real life). The sight of them was so overwhelmingly beautiful, I feel to my knees. The referee then explained that the machines we could hear were working under orders to tear the mountains down.
Then I woke up.
I turned what I wrote down into the three songs that make up the Wildlife trilogy.
I still remember the dream vividly and think about it all the time.
Revisiting The Wildlife recently, I still loved it but it made me cringe a little. I used to put on a weird accent when I rapped. I would pronounce certain words like a baby. What the fuck was that?! There are also some production choices that bother me. The beats were among the very first I made with the SP-1200 and I didn’t know what I was doing yet. These were also some of the first songs I recorded in a professional studio and I remember feeling intimidated and uncomfortable there. So - inspired by Taylor Swift - I decided to re-record the songs. Why the hell not?
supported by 40 fans who also own “The Wildlife Revisited”
"Billy" is a breath of fresh air. A collaboration between two equally capable artists, showcasing perfect intercompatibility. I hope to hear more from Tom and Rich! They make a great team. linqsikks
supported by 28 fans who also own “The Wildlife Revisited”
I've missed old school anticon (and affiliated), such an influential part of my late teens and early 20s.
My old record store had a section dedicated to leftfield hip-hop when I was growing up, this is exactly what I've been missing, and would've gone straight in there.
I only hope we get more of Dose, Buck, and Jel together. El Bleak
The 18-year-old Maryland rapper’s newest album combines coming-of-age themes with refreshing, expansive production. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 22, 2022
Inventive flows, abstract arrangements, and clever lyrics make 16-year-old Maryland rapper redveil an artist worth watching. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 2, 2020
