Listen with attention, I’m going to read now from the holy book of Wack-O and tell you the Truth, how dance was invented by Adam and Eve as they tumbled down Eden’s Garden back 10.000 years ago, the angels observed in awe and imitated them on top of a pin, we don’t know how many there were, ask the scholastics.

From the simple Bill Hicks ‘the Moron died’ prancing styles of its beginning, which celebrated the freedoms to be enjoyed in a world full of snakes, spiders and chthonic depravities, and expressed an utopian desire to ascend to the moon in a balloon like Cyrano de Bergerac would do simultaneously in a parallel universe, this form of self-expression evolved incrementally, until that big rave in Babel when Enki fractured the unique Babylonian language with its Naum Shaub, which scattered folks in all sorts of concentric orbits, a thousand dances bloomed thereafter as the human races adapted their contortions and rhythmic movements to all kinds of spiritual niches, from the beard scratching rap attack of the deutoronomists to the derviche spinning jaunt, the mongolian somersault, Druidic vogueing at the Stonehenge discotheque, african drum steam machine music or the bonfire pogo of the ancient indoeuropean tribes which would end up, after some interaction with christian industrial music becoming that frolicsome witch polka Liars keep representing to this day.

It is a complicated process to analyse this one, as those inflicted by a dance intermingle constantly, the infection mutates acquiring new traits, say, for example, that weird breakdancing that byzantine priests used to do after mass was but a mixture of irish jigs learned from the little people and backpacker esoteric gospel. I could ellaborate on this but then you’d say I’m prevaricating and I won’t have any of that. I am privvy to secrets your unenlightened brains are not engineered to gr(XXXXXXXX)

Sorry, we reckon poor J has suffered one of his fits and we have had to confine him to his room (the one with pillows gaffer-tapped to the walls), we peeked at his hand-scrawled notes and dog-eared books and were able to reconstruct the gist, as it were, of his argument, it seems he was going to say something about how dances proliferated in a thousand and one shapes after that Babel hijink and to contend that although some specific styles have gone in and out of fashion like so many other things (including, I quote, ”telepathic modes of communication and viral sex weapons”, erm, yeah, he’s been reading the Book of Rammellzee too much), they sometimes come back summoned by talented types, discordian angular vectors he calls them, able to throw elaborate spells which bypass the illuminati fiasco-pecuniary revival and disrupt illusions of time and space to create weird historical zones in the dancefloor, those people captured inside them dance like it was, say, 1981.

Carbonas- Don’t Talk

The most hi energy punk rock fun you’re gonna have this year, besides Jay Reatard, of whom Carbonas are mates, and Mika Miko, of course. From their self-titled album out on Raw Deluxe, or the imaginary soundtrack of Repo Man as scored by Jerusalem Crickets, yo devo.

In this track they elaborate on the ancient anti-pedophile paradox: if I don’t talk to strangers how am I ever going to meet anyone?

Perhaps down at the disco if we communicate telepathically, hold on, J says we lost that capability after the Enclosure Movement.

Skatebard-Love Attack

Dance slo-mo like this was a fishtank finnish italo disco which elaborates on the ancient whisky on the rocks paradox, yep. So hot, so cold. Lame joke yeah, but remember, the guy who usually writes this sort of stuff is painting the walls of his room with excrements as I type, I’m just the beadle of this underfunded institution.

All the usual suspects, and some I didn’t even know existed are quoted in so much style that trying to describe Skatebard’s ‘Midnight Magic’ would make me feel like a swine, I’ll just say you should get it because it sounds like moving shadows of the best party you never were allowed in because you were wearing sneakers instead of italian shoes.

Super-sweet italian masters Formica Ricargable posted Skatebard some time ago, which makes lots of sense, go and say ciao from us!

This post goes to Miss Heidi Heelz who is moving away from us to the Big Smoke booooo we’ll miss her but know & hope we’ll be seeing her a lot when she comes down xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Epilogue -
This post is tagged with italo italo disco rave