"You've got the fear, man." That's what the little voice was telling me. Alone in a dark, dusty corner of the basement, my eyes reflecting pools of fire from the burning furnace. I knew the fear was upon me and it was time to fight it again.

Don't know the fear? Join me in the dirt my friends, gather close. Don't you smell just lovely! Do you know the fear that lurks, the fear waiting under the bed with merciless vengeance, the sharp metallic presence that patiently anticipates your gory doom? Do you know the fear-- perhaps the sensation of being in a small airplane in a tropical storm, being tossed among the clouds like a tin can? Perhaps you're familiar with the fear of being swept out to sea in the churning blunt power of a hurricaine undertow. Can you see the oil burning? Do you hear it? Panacea is the fear we speak of.

It's unspeakable, I know, but you have to see. Look, over there! Have your eyes adjusted yet? There's a player over there with something called Panacea inside. No, don't put it in now. I'm too afraid. Will you hold me? Why do you shrink away? I only want you to understand!

The sounds that came out of the player were the voices of my fears. Hard, jarring, they beat me with swollen fists and stabbed me with pointed spears. From under my eyelids, I saw the tearing. I heard the tearing with covered ears. I... oh... You're still here? The fear has passed for now. You can play it, if you wish. Do you know your fear? ...Ah, see what I mean? Don't cry, it's only music. There, there, let me run my hands through your hair and tell you a story...

Once upon a time there was a German boy named Mathias Mootz, and the thing he wanted more than anything in the world was to be be a hardcore drum-n-bass producer. Thing was, he was German, and all the English clubbies thought they were better than him. So, he worked very hard and one day all the English clubbies got together and decided Mathias was a-okay. Then, Mathias got together with all the clubbies and they sang "Proud Mary" and ate petit fours with gleaming industrial dental equipment piercing their gums. Then they gave each other cerimonial brandings about the armpits and ganglia, and they all lived happily ever after. You're not still afraid, are you? Why are you shaking, I can barely hold you! Kiss me, you vixen!

-James P. Wisdom

"Death is Near"

[Real Audio Stream]