“The gentle maid, whose hapless tale,
these melancholy pages speak;
say, gracious lady, shall she fail
To draw the tear a down from thy cheek?”
(H.Walpole 1764)
” I really do deserve more credit for not acting on the evil, twisted thoughts that run through my mind on a daily basis.”
“He who has rejected his demons badgers us to death with his angels.”
“The treachery of demons is nothing compared to the betrayal of an angel.”
“I’m in love with the darkness of the night
I’m in love with all that’s out of sight
I’m in love with the magic of the new
And the darkness loves me, too
Come out, come out wherever you are
Don’t hide, don’t hide near or far
Come out, come out wherever you are
Don’t hide (Don’t hide)” (Xandria)
“Hey girl!, Hey boy! Watcha waiting for? You know you are the core!”
This website is named in memory of one of Zana’s favourite bands, “Santa Hates You“; and contains the naughty list. To be “on the naughty list“, you have to make music identified under one of the genre’s we know as “Dark Music” (listed below), but first and foremost, you need to be capable of causing, “a global panic attack”.
Nothing’s gonna be alright!
Our “naughty list” genre include, but are not exclusive to: Electropop; Synthpop; Industrial Music; Electro-Industrial; Coldwave; Darkwave; Electroclash; Electropunk; Post-Punk; Punk Rock; Aggrotech; Dark Electro; EBM; Futurepop; Neue Deutsche Härte; Industrial Metal; Goth-Rock; Gothabilly; Shoegaze; and New-Wave.
The “Post Apocalyptic Nude Industrial Corps” need to fortify their dominance in the worldwide clubs, and use all the means necessary to achieve this goal. The “SHY naughty list” provides a means to this end. The aim of the site is to be malicious, mean, relentless, dark, but at the same time sexy, and ambiguous. Driven by pure Electro anarchy, walking the tightrope between apocalyptic visions and a contemporary club attitude.
Raise the devil!
So lock up your women and kids, and for safety, best put the men in there too. Sail with us under the “Jolly Roger”, as anarchistic Electro pirates, and this time mercy is entirely out of the question.
“God is hiding, God is hiding
God is hiding under my bed
… you might have thought that he was dead
But God is hiding under my bed…”
The world around us is a lie, mankind is trapped in an Illusion. We do not see the great citadels of Metropolis towering over our highest skyscrapers. We do not hear the screams from the forgotten cellar where hidden stairs take us to Inferno. We do not smell the blood and burnt flesh from those sacrificed to long forgotten Gods. But some of us see glimpses from beyond the veil. We have this strange feeling that something is not right, the ramblings of a madman in the park seems to carry a hidden message, and, when thinking about it, our reclusive neighbour doesn’t appear to be completely human when we pass in the street. By slowly discovering the truth about our prison, our captors, and our hidden pasts, we can finally awaken from our induced sleep and take control of our destiny. Do you dare to tread the dark universe of Tavolzhanka?
“The only people to whose opinions I listen now with any respect are people much younger than myself. They seem in front of me. Life has revealed to them her latest wonder.”
“There is no such thing as a good influence, Mr. Gray. All influence is immoral—immoral from the scientific point of view.”
“Why?”
“Because to influence a person is to give him one’s own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts, or burn with his natural passions. His virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as sins, are borrowed. He becomes an echo of some one else’s music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him. The aim of life is self-development. To realize one’s nature perfectly—that is what each of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty hat one owes to one’s self. Of course, they are charitable. They feed the hungry and clothe the beggar. But their own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had it. The terror of society, which is the basis of morals, the terror of God, which is the secret of religion—these are the two things that govern us. And yet, I believe that if one man were to live out his life fully and completely, were to give form to every feeling, expression to every thought, reality to every dream—I believe that the world would gain such a fresh impulse of joy that we would forget all the maladies of mediaevalism, and return to the Hellenic ideal—to something finer, richer than the Hellenic ideal, it may be. But the bravest man amongst us is afraid of himself”
―
