"Baboon climbs the mountain, so hastily, so troublesome,
Baboon climbs the mountain, so hastily and so troublesome,
Baboon climbs the mountain to annoy the farmers.
Hooray!  For the jolly baboon..."
The Last Fire Watch

Since these are the end tunes, and the apocalypse is nigh, I'd like to share a few songs I like before the nuclear war/rapture combination platter history has ordered unbeknownst to us and sprinkled on our coffee and behalf & half, makes it to our table.  The waitress is approaching with a plate of smoking, tuneless ruins.  Time is running out.  So let's listen to some music.

The only criteria for Pablo Smog's End Tunes Oddcast are that I like the song, have never heard of the artist, and that most if not all of the videos on the artist's channel have less than 1,000 views.  None of the artists in this article are aware I'm sharing their music, and I have never communicated with them about anything.  Maybe which, I should.  We can sidle up to the Geiger countertop at the molten, burning diner, and put a quarter in the nukebox.  What shall we listen to first?  Grog & Pony?  Electric Bullfrog?  Rachael Wolff?

Rachael Wolff.  Drive it 'til it dies.

Well I guess we made it.  To the end of the song, if not the world.  Nothing like a gringo road song to lift the mood.  Now that we're out of the Mojave Desert, where should we go next?  South Africa?  Berlin?  An unmarked, early grave?

Let's listen to some droning jazz while we decide.  "Red & Orange," by Dion Kerr.  Red and orange.  Like the color of the flames, rising in the style of a rockabilly pinstripe on the quarter panels of our weary, burning souls.  In the world before, I was a black Camaro.  I used to be an automotive bird of prey, a weird & flying lion with a golden eagle painted on the hood.  It was my symbol.  I was a killer.  Of both boredom and bad vibes.  I was the infinite borracho.  A beast, a burden, and a badass.

Now I am a highway breakdown.

I am free.

In case I never get to make another oddcast, let's do something didactic, and show the world that content is the enemy of art.  Even if we miss the war, and the Rapture happens first, let's listen to a song by a bunch of Bacchanalian Zoroasters with an evolutionary bent, singing lullabies about baboons and the end of the world in Afrikaans.  What's important to a culture of discontent is that the content of the content fills the soul of the discontented with a false sense of contentment that lulls the heart and mind of the soulless to sleep, until they are incapable of hearing anything.  Art doesn't exist to affirm your worldview.  It can, but it doesn't have to.  There is a difference in obvious demonic sonic artifice, and art.  Avoid the former, to be sure.  But not at the expense of the latter.  Your soul will know the difference.

This is my favorite song of the three.

Thanks for listening to the first episode of Pablo Smog's End Tunes Oddcast.  Thanks to the artists for participating against their knowledge, and for proving that art and music aren't dead.  They've just been buried alive. 

So, if it pleases you to do so, go thou forth into the smothering flames of a culture dominated by division, strife, and loathing, and show some love to your low-view brethren toiling away in the song- and art mines of the future.  Throw them a quarter, or a house.  A Camaro and a cheeseburger, if you can afford it.  And if the guy says that he's "the last fire guard, the last baboon," and that "you have been ignoring my call for ages," don't look down on him for not being as famous and shiny as a bunch of legacy sellouts.  Listen to him.  Who knows.  He might know exactly what he's talking about.

If nothing else, at least he can draw. 

Throw wrenches at the world. 

Roll pumpkins down the street.

Ride around in black and white.

Set fire to his feet, shine

A light, and

Write.

Right?