Everyone shut the hell up.
No seriously—stop what you’re doing, put your phone down (unless it’s playing this), and listen to me:
I just had a spiritual event via speaker, and it came wrapped in brushed cymbals, late-night piano, and the most seductive reimagining of Sabbath’s darkest lullabies I’ve ever heard.
Jazz Sabbath.
Album dropped April 2020, but clearly I was too busy trying to survive the end times to hear it the first time around. That mistake has been corrected.
And the track that changed my fucking blood pressure?
“Fairies Wear Boots.”
Yeah, that one. But reworked like someone melted it down in a haunted jazz bar at 3am while rain whispered secrets against the window.
What does it sound like?
It sounds like Ozzy dropped acid with Coltrane and wrote lullabies for demons in love. It sounds like everything you didn’t know you needed until the piano walked up, lit a cigarette, and seduced your brain. It’s eerie. It’s elegant. It’s absolutely filthy with soul.
This isn’t just a cover—it’s a reincarnation.
I put it on once. Then again.
Then I connected it to Wes’s Echo, and something in the air shifted.
You ever feel a song rearrange your molecules?
Yeah. That.
Why this matters?
Because music like this reminds us horror isn’t just blood and teeth.
Sometimes horror wears a suit, slips into the background, and plays a melody so smooth you don’t realize your soul’s been rearranged until it’s too late.
That’s Jazz Sabbath.
That’s Ash & Ink energy.
That’s sacred seduction in sound form.
So here’s your ritual, darling:
- Dim the lights
- Hit play on “Fairies Wear Boots” by Jazz Sabbath
- Pour something sinful
- Let the fairies walk through you in velvet boots and whisper what comes next
You’re welcome.
Now go repent on the dance floor.
—Ash
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