The Lay of the Lands

Featuring : Steve Moore


Past the tear in the wall total-black-space like one of the deep caves where primeval tribes made Gods of their fears. From its walls leaps a coterie of warriors, sorcerers, monsters and legends: Dead Eyed Sardaukar and Skynet prototypes, splinters of a geometrical nightmare, garish Chris Foss bio-ships and a satellite of terror.

You flinch!

And then you realise they are only 3d artifacts. Or are they?

They surround you in frozen onslaught, embrace, beckoning, or their combination. Are they avatars of your predecessors, or a representation of the threats ahead? Egad, what’s the point of masking a collection of songs with such Jungian paraphernalia?

And then this thought becomes a key in the door of yourself, the door is opened and through it enters an expedition of travellers bearing gifts from across the space and time. One of them, a man of prophetic demeanour, fiery eyes and fractal beard unrolls a scroll or reticule that expands under your feet and across the horizon, defining a model of this terra incognita, and also summary of the way things will play out.

20JFG are prisoners in a grid of hexagons, every hexagon is a gestalt of the interaction between its creator and the 20JFG psyche. 2013 is an arbitrary subset of all of the universes contained within this infinitely expanding board, connected by the shared creative spirit that fuelled their respective inceptions. As you jump through the board you enter the minds of its masters, spring traps of your own devising, try to set up new traps for others, if they die here they won’t quite die although their lives will be changed, and in that change, you will live for aeons, until humanity collapses down Fermi’s chasm, or collapses into everything in the ultimate orgy at the heat death of the universe.

And with this you fall through this hexagonal reticule, and then below becomes ahead, through a grid neon in the style of New York’s skyline under the shadow of Snake Plissken’s glider, bootstrapping itself into being with the liquid agency of a Steve Moore synth solo.

Steve Moore – Planetwalk

You couldn’t have hoped for a better way to begin the journey. What is the next stage? The Tetris-like agglomeration of a city gazed through a 1980s minimal bit lens.

Where will you land?

Atop the tallest of all of the city skyscrapers, a framework of light emblazoned with a fluid falls of assembly code?

Or down in one of its broad streets, strewn with rubble like the playground of some indifferent God?

2013 References

Zektor screen via Zektor VG.
It cannot be coincidence that Steve Moore’s majestic Pangaea Ultima arrived just in time to start the imaginative sequence with which we will make sense of the year.  The conscience expanding & cosmos-opening features of his work are precisely what this thing is about, and we thank him for it. He is one of the masters of the universe.