‘The dance of the machines during the past two centuries
represents the most violent and lethal expression of
human somnambulism and self-hypnosis.’
   – Alex Kitnick, Distant Early Warning

‘Everyone with an elastic band and a laptop
thinks they are a “sound designer” nowadays’
   – Robert Hampson

I am here to build anything you want
but can’t begin without the help of
some imaginary friends. In subdued
circumstances, strange phenomena
are the starting point for getting your
heart pumping, ideas hidden within.

My musical dream machine has a purpose:
to separate the medium of the instrument
from the transmission. Its very existence
violates the first law of euphoria, often
facilitates catharsis. I just want to dance.
(A small amount of shaking is normal.)

How on earth can the party machine
examine its own critical dimension?
The longer the evening is, the more
flex it can return to the imagination.
What does it mean when automata
pull the lever? Broken equipment.

I am a little confused as to what
variation actually does. There is
something deeply significant about
how easily our bodies can resonate
with sound, the counterculture’s
desire for psychic understanding.

These devices produce temporal objects
working at the improbable confluence
of musique concrète, shamanism, rock;
the turntable becomes an instrument,
a conceptual device walking in circles,
attempting to navigate the soundscape.

Knowing about pattern recognition
may help you hit the brakes early.
If playback doesn’t begin shortly,
try restarting your listening device.
Good luck traveller, and farewell;

there is only becoming, everywhere.



Rupert M Loydell
Words & Picture





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