Side note (but also most importantly): リンキンパーク means Linkin Park in Japanese, as Google has translated for me. But like how Michael Jackson had bought out The Beatles, Linkin Park had also figured out an excellent schematic — on a low-level, but country-club budget — by buying foreign music copyrights. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, amiright? Well, upon hearing In Media Res’s raw demo of (but not yet named) リンキンパーク in full Quindecim, Triginta Septem, and Viginti Sex, Linkin Park acquired the sampled tracks and technically became producer of the Exo Tape CD-R set, リンキンパーク: Quindecim, Triginta Septem, and Viginti Sex. Also, Jay Z released an album with Linkin Park; the only time I’ve done acid was a small dose outside Van Buren Middle School, sitting on a bench in Lincoln Park, listening to Linkin Park, and the water fountain kept shape-shifting, so I thought the blending of leaves behind it was an alligator or Reptile, so I kept it cool. Only I didn’t.
In addition to everything previously mentioned — but not really at all — the phrase In Media Res eloquently/roughly means “beginning in the middle of something.” Thus, leading listeners to believe the entirety of リンキンパーク: Quindecim, Triginta Septem, and Viginti Sex is actually a statement for artwork IN the RESOLUTION of some type of MEDIA. You feel me? Because these cover arts are either pure genius or (what I think is clearly) a maniac on the cutting edge of spiritual growth within our human minds and is trying to dip us out on some Dead Ringers occultist shit. But what if David Lynch directed Pee-wee’s Big Adventure? It’s all part of a period we wish would become bits of our future, templed and entombed in fiber optic communication and archaeological blog-hunts, infiltrating the realm of library sciences vs. pop culture, engulfed in the instinct that the nerds fucking won. Again, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, but I’m B^) w/ it, b. Yo, and back to the cover art, like: women and cropping, flamboyance without cause, but anti-fem or fem, there’s questionable importance. Or neither? The incredible proof of neglect is the based-out sampling truth that リンキンパーク: Quindecim, Triginta Septem, and Viginti Sex creates, as if “w/e” were a tangible feeling.
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So, let’s pretend like you know the definition of the Rule of Threes, because I sure as fuck didn’t make it up, nor do I believe in it. Though, I understand each CD-R of リンキンパーク as segmented parts of a trilogy. And that’s how the FUCK I listen to them, and in my car — so Sony. Look, I’ve even spoken to the motherfucking cult leader [and maker of リンキンパーク: Quindecim, Triginta Septem, and Viginti Sex], and they’re lost with it too (and would much rather have an interpretation), so like RESPECT. Hard. To begin:
Triginta Septem is entirely ethereal. It’s complete death, as it’s probably true that all the voices you hear upon Triginta Septem could all be deceased. Savannah’s sister Victoria is a mortician, and people die a lot! It’s a business. And this is how In Media Res (in cooperation with リンキンパーク) immortalizes and establishes the most haunted CD spin of the year. Like how some people think a photograph steals your soul. Imagine an audio stream of your deepest practice in self-vocalization (NSFW). There’s a communication boundary here that is untouchable through any DSL’d cable wire jacked directly into the world. Established presence is complete being. Completely. And I don’t think a vocalization can ever be stricken. My dog is terrified of loud sounds, because I believe her pups all ran away from her one night — all starving in some forest — because lightning struck and they got scared. Eventually, she found them scattered about dead the next day and gathered their remains. So for her own survival, she ate the litter, and has since been terrified of loud crashing sounds because of her own self fear. Triginta Septem is the fear of becoming something you’re not within a vast landscape of digital audio clips shared on the internet’s over-/underground download systems, fluxing with pinnacle desire: just stay the fuck away from my dog.
As Triginta Septem presented self-spirit of In Media Res (in cooperation with リンキンパーク), Quindecim harnesses the real production value of the project. It’s not that these tracks are better mixed or more turn’t, but there’s a stability to the humbleness in the music, as it’s composed around a less rudimentary sound of production and composition. The atmosphere is a no-man’s land of vapid pliability, sounding like the music could’ve been copy-and-pasted a bunch in snippet-files using a DAW OR an actual group of musicians conducted the tracks themselves, practiced a bunch, and sat down to record Quindecim (though I believe it’s the former). With intentional pronunciation of hallowed instruments and vibrated strings (including nature sounds), In Media Res refurbishes organic sounds to decorate a trash heap of ambiance. So move the fuck outta the way, because diving in only gets you to China, and we all know digging a hole through the Earth requires a BUNCH of batteries. While Quindecim powers the core of リンキンパーク, it’s absolutely not the focal point. Its existence perpetuates the value of In Media Res.
リンキンパーク isn’t exactly presented in any particular order, and the cover art used above is makeshift-made in MS Paint (by me). Viginti Sex is exactly this disorder. Considering Triginta Septem and Quindecim have less entertainment/pop-culture references in comparison to Viginti Sex, In Media Res makes it a point to abruptly mix up the listener’s mentality that wants to continue singing the song being sampled (thanks to リンキンパーク, again and again). It’s actually harshly alienating in terms of both mixing and the listener’s familiarity, tripping them up on Best Coast, Avril Lavigne, etc. And with an intact self-flair, Viginti Sex is mixed a lot like Eccojams Vol. 1, negating any reasoning and purely vibing on an atmosphere that layers and grows within each song. It’s almost like the PG version of The Act of Killing, but of how one perceives the effects of pop culture within their lives THEN and NOW. Yet, the theme of disorder haunting Viginti Sex is exactly what ties リンキンパーク all together. Viginti Sex is In Media Res telling us the process of finding all these samples and mixing them. It’s the blueprint. But without the others, it’s just another vaporwave challenge. But as the others continue to define this dropped-in and -out mentality of In Media Res’s literal and musical artistic notions, リンキンパーク is exactly the fleeting thought captured in a time-capsuled trilogy akin to no predecessor.
More about: In Media Res
