Tefifon is the way to go. It’s a record turned into a tape.
I’m sort of enjoying the brainfeel of coming up with increasingly obscure release methods.
I think I’m beginning to feel the .svg but for music, but only released on paper. So you buy it and get a stack of documents with equations on them and if you know what you’re doing you can actually listen to the song.
Yeah, but math metal can get boring quickly. 
I got another one. We ‘released’ it in a usual format like a CD or whatever but instead of letting you buy it we’ve hidden 300 copies inside load-bearing supports of various infrastructure around the country.
Fans, don your hardhats and sledgehammers and pitter patter.
Jack White did something like that early in his career, putting vinyl inside furniture he made.
I’ve hidden my music on micro SD cards. Then I gave them to chefs at the world’s most expensive restaurants, and billionaires have now swallowed them. Better find them and cut them open real quick. If you wait for them to poop, it will be too late.
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I literally know of musicians who espouse this sort of philosophy, non-ironically.
Well.
It seems to be non-ironic. Hard to tell what with pretense and such.
A topos.
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My metal band would press its records using ice instead of vinyl. Only able to be played in the bitter cold.
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My metal band would play only on a remote island near a whirlpool. You could only hear the music if you sail past on a boat. You also have to tie yourself to the mast to resist covering your ears or jumping overboard.
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My metal band would record onto an analogue medium and then send the master into orbit while letting the analogue mechanism produce the vibrations but no sound wave. The battery would last some amount of time or until space debris rendered the thing inoperable.
You could only hear it by grasping it in a space suit and hoping your suit conveyed the noise into the atmosphere in the suit.
It’d play into the void for the entirety of it’s life.
My metal band would probably suck, never get our shit together enough to record an album, and forever play local venues until we’re those weird old-guard veterans that try to pal around with teenagers when we’re like 50.
Our biggest claim to fame would be that one time we played St. Vitus and opened for a third-tier band from Slovenia.
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My metal band performs once in a remote location in Egypt. The audience is then killed.
The band then self-immolates in a tomb that then collapses.
Rym’s band is called: LISTEN, YE MIGHTY
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My prog doom metal band stores it’s music via quantum entanglement. It’s suspended in superposition. If anyone observes it, the waveform collapses and you’re left with a Rick Astley YouTube link instead.
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Some people wonder what it is that draws me to extreme metal. Crushing riffs? The physical intensity of the music? An obsessive need to induldge esoteric and obscure tastes in an effort to make me appear intellectually superior?
Nah, it’s the lyrics.
The subtle, nuanced, carefully-considered lyrics of extreme metal present careful consideration of the topics they address.
Exhibit A:
Neckbeard Deathcamp - White Nationalism is for Basement Dwelling Losers
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