Bounge is what I call the beast resultant of the wild mind runneth over. I have been endowed with raw emotion run rampant since birth, and my single means of subduing the calamity of the fevered soul torched with frenzy has been to create…Creating is my only means of putting to use the riotous ugliness that I am host to.
I can extract the beast when it gets too brutal by plunging a paintbrush into it and hurling it forward. This is the outlet for the gushing forth of things like rage, sadness, fear, any of those more furious things that I need to get out before they devour me whole. Bounge's empire is the canvas, here his reign is unquestionable and limitless.
I can smooth out the beast's bristled back if I sing and bang out beats. Melody and harmony and all that jazz charm the wild for a bit. When wrangled I channel the badass. In this world the beast and I are one in the same. Rather than staring me down, in music we join forces and stare all the rest of em down.
With words I am slowly making sense of Bounge's platinum fang savage kingdom. Words are my way of understanding that wild dark empire built on delicate rage.