Thursday, 26 May 2011

A NEGATIVE NARRATIVE: INTRAVIEW


Night may have fallen on the Cities of Nifigance, but tentacles from his legend continue to grope about its backstreets.

Leeds-based site 'A Negative Narrative' seem to have managed to coax photos from the reclusive crooner. Much has been made about an alleged attack on the site following the 'intraview', rendering it offline or partially inoperable for the best part of a week, but the malfunction's origins have not, at the time of writing, been traced.

Authorities have not ruled out involvement from the Church of the Screaming Magnesium, Mexican Hells' Angels gang 'Jalapeno Wheels', White Supremacist group 'The Porcelain All-Stars' or even Nifigance himself, who it is believed would not have allowed photographs from 'the Black Archives' to be made public.

As yet his legal team have refused to comment.

View the images here.

Tuesday, 10 May 2011

Tea Splash Reviews: Album Review: Vincent Nifigance - The Shambolic Fu...

My favourite writer. Tea Splash Reviews: Album Review: Vincent Nifigance - The Shambolic Fu...: "At some point in the past, Noel Edmonds’s anteater-head penis will have stood up at a 45 degree angle (as if sniffing for predators) and, ..."

Thursday, 3 February 2011

Vincent Nifigance 2006-2011


A maudlin dawn has befallen the Californian Mall in which we all report. I say 'all', but I'm the first to arrive as biblical Midwestern blizzards nullify the Highways. Vincent Nifigance himself is draped stationary over a lectern like a smashed Magpie in his black suit & tie, oblivious to my visage as I consciously opt for the middling rows of the seats it seems he himself has half-assedly assembled, judging by their heterogeneity and vaying levels of adherence to horizontal.

Rather than call a press conference themselves, The White Stripes rushed notification of the cessation of their Red, White & New versions of the Old Black Blues to plunder Nifigance's thunder. A few more journos squeeze into the makeshift auditorium and sit leaving ample space between one another to accommodate their egos.

Nifigance lifts his visibly thinning-haired head and scans us from 'neath a thundercloud brow, before hastily sighing out the following statement with a pained expression on his exasperated face:

"In return for anointing my Star atop the Rock, I promised you this in everlasting return:

To rock it with a Romulan opulence,
Cocaine sleigh bells, baptised in beer.
I promised you Rum, shit and pistols.

Swore I'd rather be giving-it aching than taking-it easy.

That I'd dispense with a concern for eternity.

I said: "Every vagina I whet will be tinged with regret."
Which I detailed in 3 minute Sex Epistles.
Shunting with such gumption the units practically shifted themselves.

I've paid the pork-mortgage.

Thank you."

And with that, he's gone.

Thursday, 16 December 2010

Session for Manchester Scenewipe

Vincent Nifigance from MCR Scenewipe on Vimeo.



Toby & Sam (they who be: Manchester Scenewipe) perpetually endeavour to showcase the city's local musical talent alongside some of the best and brightest that trundle into the Nuclear Free City.

Daydream Generation Xers

"Like the Indie-Schindler… No, can't say that…

*Ahem* Like a flailing, sonorous multi-teated freak-beast of a whale, suckling all the Rockin' flotsam that drifts into its warm, transitory shores…(that's better)…Quixodelic Records' prescient tentacle: 'Daydream Generation' has been enveloping the burgeoning merchants of a better musical tomorrow, and redistributing their sonic offerings where needed most: smattering blissful kisses all over your quivering auditory cortex.

This benevelont leviathan deigned to grace our woeful solar system for a limited visit.

It's bow is now upon us. Don't miss out on your chance to suckle at the bosom of the musical muse."

Vincent Nifigance on the Daydream Generation compilations.

Wednesday, 15 December 2010

Toy Story 3's Ultimate "No"

After having been dumped in a landfill, and wrongly assuming that no one; no matter how seemingly evil, is beyond redemption - they're stung by their own virtue, and flung into the furnace - an obliterating pit of the their world's ultimate animosity toward them.

Leader Woody clamours for Buzz's gumption, as he begs for a suggestion as to what they can possbily do next.

His stare into the void is reciprocated by the nothing Buzz's eyes reply, and his glance at the fury of the pit's all-annihilating heart.

Buzz, visibly shocked by his own impotence, but buoyed by his inherent courage instead reaches for Jesse's hand: spurring everyone-on to clinging onto the only available comfort - one another.

Which is disconcertingly scant consolation when facing impending immolation.

It evokes memories of the empathy invoked when filling in the blanks of the experience of those on the 9/11 passenger planes. There's a naked vulnerability, and pathetic defiance in admitting to a shared unavoidable end.

Wednesday, 17 November 2010

L'Amour

L’Amour, (Love)
et La Mort (and death)
et le mort-gage. (and the death-pledge.)

‘One thing, worth failure and fall,
One thing to fill the cosseted hearts,
buoyant as an ocean bound ball,
One thing, from church steeple, to shopping Mall.
Love.
Love is all.’
Jeffrey Archer.

The Power Of Love: ultimate muse of poets, artists, and songwriters alike. How vacant our culture would be without the artistic and physical expression of love.

LOVE: The source of, and sometimes so tragically powerful as to cause the end of, life. The pop songs which we subconsciously compile to make the soundtrack of our lives. The special days, in which we buy a card to show mother, or father, or Saint Valentine our appreciation……

This…..is Love.

From the moment our heads are squeezed in reverse penetration, screaming from between the tumescent vaginal void of our mother, a bond is forged that is hard to break. The months of nipple sucking. Baths together. The kiss goodnight. Heavenly comfort we seek out the rest of our live-long days.

12 years later……………………………………We hate mother as we will our ex-wives.

A sticky wicket in science class when light breaches student-teacher’s blouse. A glimpse of knickers, when school sanctioned P.E skirts lift delicately in the springtime up-breeze. The shame that avalanches down when an auto-erotic rummage pops into orgasm, and you are left only with the 'for-shame' gaze of ghosts.

This...is SEX