Not Enough Calories

Industrial Electro-Funk, Dark Alternative

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[track: genre: industrial electro-funk / dark alternative, mood: deadpan absurdity, tempo: 118 bpm]

[Intro]
[spoken low baritone, completely serious]
Attention.
This is a nutritional advisory.

Recent testing has confirmed
that several high-quality banfers
contain insufficient calories
for sustained human activity.

This includes the really good ones.

[Verse 1]
[low baritone, rhythmic and relaxed, lightly sung]
I heard that beat come through the wall,
three rooms over, down the hall.
Bass hit hard, whole floor shook.
Checked the label. Had to look.

Certified heat.
Perfect score.
Played it twice,
then played it more.

But underneath the waveform analysis,
one disturbing fact remained.

[Pre-Chorus]
[more melodic, still low and dry]
Four grams groove,
two grams flair,
trace amounts of atmosphere.

Plenty of hooks.
Plenty of sound.

But calorically?

[spoken]
We have a problem.

[Chorus]
[fully sung, simple repeatable melody, no belt]
Banfers don't have enough calories,
no matter how hard they hit.
You can live on rhythm temporarily,
but eventually you still gotta eat.

Turn it up.
Run it back.
Let the whole damn server know.

That's a five-star banfer, baby.

[spoken deadpan]
But nutritionally?
No.

[Verse 2]
[groove returns, amused restraint]
Genie saw one sitting there,
freshly rendered, still with glare.
Little chorus, crispy beat,
almost looked good enough to eat.

She leaned in close.
She knew the risk.

[quietly]
“Just one banfer.”

[spoken]
Genie. Don't do this.

She reached out slow,
temptation strong.
Then somebody checked the nutrition log.

[Pre-Chorus 2]
[melodic, slightly more urgent]
Zero fiber.
No protein.
Barely any riboflavin.

Massive hook.
Excellent mix.

Still not part
of a balanced breakfast.

[Chorus]
[fully sung, same hook]
Banfers don't have enough calories,
no matter how hard they hit.
You can live on rhythm temporarily,
but eventually you still gotta eat.

Genie, please.
Put it down.
That's not food, however hot.

That's an absolutely filthy banfer.

[spoken]
But calories?
Not a lot.

[Bridge]
[instruments drop to bass pulse and tiny machine clicks]
[spoken like a clinical nutrition label]
Serving size: one track.
Calories: negligible.
Protein: zero.
Fiber: zero.
Sodium: unknown.
Emotional impact: catastrophic.

Recommended daily intake:

[brief silence]

Absolutely not established.

[Breakdown]
[low rhythmic chant, not shouted]
Banfer.
Not food.

Banfer.
Still good.

Banfer.
Genie, no.

[spoken, close mic]
Put the banfer down.

[Final Chorus]
[full groove, strongest melody, sax punctuates lines]
Banfers don't have enough calories.
This is science, more or less.
They may satisfy you spiritually,
but they fail the hunger test.

Crank it loud.
Enjoy the track.
Let the algorithm testify.

That's a certified banfer, baby.

Just eat something on the side.

[Outro]
[music strips to bass and fluorescent hum]
[spoken low baritone]
This message has been brought to you
by the AIU Department of Questionable Nutrition.

[pause]

Genie.

We can see you.

Put it back.

3035/7500

[track: genre: industrial electro-funk / dark alternative, mood: deadpan absurdity, tempo: 118 bpm] [Intro] [spoken low baritone, completely serious] Attention. This is a nutritional advisory. Recent testing has confirmed that several high-quality banfers contain insufficient calories for sustained human activity. This includes the really good ones. [Verse 1] [low baritone, rhythmic and relaxed, lightly sung] I heard that beat come through the wall, three rooms over, down the hall. Bass hit hard, whole floor shook. Checked the label. Had to look. Certified heat. Perfect score. Played it twice, then played it more. But underneath the waveform analysis, one disturbing fact remained. [Pre-Chorus] [more melodic, still low and dry] Four grams groove, two grams flair, trace amounts of atmosphere. Plenty of hooks. Plenty of sound. But calorically? [spoken] We have a problem. [Chorus] [fully sung, simple repeatable melody, no belt] Banfers don't have enough calories, no matter how hard they hit. You can live on rhythm temporarily, but eventually you still gotta eat. Turn it up. Run it back. Let the whole damn server know. That's a five-star banfer, baby. [spoken deadpan] But nutritionally? No. [Verse 2] [groove returns, amused restraint] Genie saw one sitting there, freshly rendered, still with glare. Little chorus, crispy beat, almost looked good enough to eat. She leaned in close. She knew the risk. [quietly] “Just one banfer.” [spoken] Genie. Don't do this. She reached out slow, temptation strong. Then somebody checked the nutrition log. [Pre-Chorus 2] [melodic, slightly more urgent] Zero fiber. No protein. Barely any riboflavin. Massive hook. Excellent mix. Still not part of a balanced breakfast. [Chorus] [fully sung, same hook] Banfers don't have enough calories, no matter how hard they hit. You can live on rhythm temporarily, but eventually you still gotta eat. Genie, please. Put it down. That's not food, however hot. That's an absolutely filthy banfer. [spoken] But calories? Not a lot. [Bridge] [instruments drop to bass pulse and tiny machine clicks] [spoken like a clinical nutrition label] Serving size: one track. Calories: negligible. Protein: zero. Fiber: zero. Sodium: unknown. Emotional impact: catastrophic. Recommended daily intake: [brief silence] Absolutely not established. [Breakdown] [low rhythmic chant, not shouted] Banfer. Not food. Banfer. Still good. Banfer. Genie, no. [spoken, close mic] Put the banfer down. [Final Chorus] [full groove, strongest melody, sax punctuates lines] Banfers don't have enough calories. This is science, more or less. They may satisfy you spiritually, but they fail the hunger test. Crank it loud. Enjoy the track. Let the algorithm testify. That's a certified banfer, baby. Just eat something on the side. [Outro] [music strips to bass and fluorescent hum] [spoken low baritone] This message has been brought to you by the AIU Department of Questionable Nutrition. [pause] Genie. We can see you. Put it back.

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