H.O.S.T.

Type: Archival Photo Print*
Size: 12 inches by 12 inches (30.48cm x 30.48cm)
Material: E-Surface

The parasitic, invasive spore known as Aethelthryth III lived under the shadows of their forbearers Aethelthryth I and Aethelthryth II, both megastars in their own right, but where A-I and A-II had the advantage of having spawned in the vessel of two already talented musicians, it was A-III who was birthed in the unsuspecting body of an astronaut who had already filed for retirement. With resources mostly drained from the flesh, A-III needed to work quickly. Rather than manipulate the aging astronaut, attempt to learn how to play music, and make strides to complete an album, A-III made their appearance during the astronaut's retirement photoshoot, exploding forth from his neck and offering a terrifying, thorny smile that, while attempting to appear friendly, caused an undeniable panic. With the astronaut dead but A-III very much alive, they used their leafy appendages to puppeteer the astronaut to the nearest LibroTron to begin the painstaking process of absorbing music theory and millennia's worth of beats. Because of their rather unorthodox entrance, A-III was sealed within the astronaut's quarters (welded, duct-taped, and superglued), so, in essence, there was time. However, while they feasted on the meaty remains to stay attentive, a limited amount of nutrients was left before A-III would need additional sustenance (or a keyboard or two) to continue its musical mission. Fattened, stronger, and, for all intents and purposes, smarter, A-III made quick work of the precautionary restraints that had fastened the door, the automated smart-gun sentries, and the sleepy crew members who had vowed to take varying shifts until the creature had perished of its own accord. Fearing that their investment had been lost, the financiers of the mostly scientific vessel decided to scuttle the ship with a series of timed explosives. With the coordinates locked in, and the threat of further annihilation on the precipice of being squashed, a halt code screamed across all the open channels, insisting listeners tune to the tasty beats pulsating from the zombified ship. A-III had used its thorny appendages to grab any and all loose tools and equipment to bang out an eight-track Hail Mary. Clanging, rhymical, hollow, and haunting, H.O.S.T. was as much a war cry as it was a cry for help. A-III could not help its station; the unsuspecting astronaut, unfortunately, consumed the spores of its creation as they had frantically escaped the mutated vegetation's homeworld. Would the mothership have the courage to prevent the spread, or would they embrace the infectiousness of A-III's genre-defying beats? Well, dear Audionauts, I believe we can safely say that the unforgettable album cover and the lasting effects of H.O.S.T. are still felt today, although allowing A-III to leave unscathed turned out to be a massive, ignorant decision. With time, A-III engorged itself with the innocents in its path, gaining more musical knowledge than we dare to speculate. However, access to this information did not lead to an increase in creativity. A-III's sophomore album did little to ignite the charts (though, mostly due to seven of the eight tracks consisting of munching and eating noises). H.O.S.T., however, will stand as a testament to tenacity, an unwilling, drone-like sentience that lifted A-III, dare we say, from the pit to the pinnacle, replacing A-I and A-II in the annals of parasitic, invasive, spore-based beats.

*All prints are made to order and shipped directly to you! This is not a real vinyl album.