Nihilism—perpetual muse of youth and hobos alike—is also the antidote to a world of stress and catastrophe. There's nothing better than coming home from a day filled with anguish and concerns to the reckless abandon of death metal.
So when a band like Salem gets described as "the [dictionary] definition of not giving a shit", I can't help but take notice. And yes, true to those words, the band really doesn't seem concerned about lyrics. Or effort. Or skin pallor. Their sound is really akin to a slow, oafish, muttering rap mixed with '70s, Italian horror soundtracks.
Sure, many could grab the torch that Salem has provided and craft their own mumbling incoherence, using a beat sequencer, a karaoke microphone, and an unhealthy dose of solipsism and heroin in equal parts, but it would all be for show. Salem is dedicated to not caring at a competitive level.
At points their music seems like a joke, but I'm not sure on whom: the audience for putting up with it, the band in some self-reflective parody of who they envision themselves to be, or on everybody else as some existentialist statement about how odd it is that we've all been brought together to listen to a man murmur on stage at length.
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