Friday, April 18, 2008  12:05 am 

Miami paranormal

Saturday night and I step on the accelerator of my Porsche Carrera gathering such speed the Morse code of street lights on the sides of the road transform into snakes of neon, or ley-lines re-erupting from under the concrete to merge into a multicoloured band the breath of Chinese dragon or a tunnel through hyperspace taking me from a penthouse which is all blinding white to a date with a woman dressed in a Christian Dior three piece suit, this transition through the fabric of the cosmos is akin to sudden death and subsequent ascension to the mainstream version of Christian Heaven.

‘Watch out Crockett, you have ran over two cats already’ says Ricardo.

What the fuck is he doing here?

Gatto Fritto- Bursting the Bubble

(Gatto Fritto strikes again after making us go ‘phew’ with his Hungry Ghost 12. ‘Bursting the Bubble/Radio B-92′ is another killer package, the beginning of the former a death-trap of cosmic thrills or a storm cloud of darken vibes spreading over the diorama of a dodgy deal gone dodgier, like some Mexican filero grabbing you from the lapels of that pink suit, crash against the flimsy wall of the disco V.I.P. lounge while silhouettes boogie fluid in the background, a silver butterfly switchblade that could be the invocation of a thaumaturgist materialises in the air, zig zag up goes your soul fluttering into the air like a beautiful flock of pink flamingoes, which is of course the breakdown).

Crockett stares at me like I was a spectre taking form in the passenger seat of his Porsche Carrera, he is driving unhinged, the muzzled hum of the motor a drone following whose vibrations pulsate the soft upholstered diminutive cavity of the cockpit. The phantasmagoria of bright lights and shadows flickering sudden like the wings of a raven taking flight over that battlefield of the lost souls which is the waterfront is projected in all its dramatic misery through the car’s windows. Phew. We dissect the bloated corpse of the city like the silver blade of a surgeon intent on its navel, where Ms. Fiorentino, a connection of the Souza Clan awaits. Souza has been peddling some strange kind of dope in the market, of such voodoo power it turns its users into decaying flesh-craving beasts that gambol down the streets wailing like harbingers of even more evil days to come , we hope Fiorentino’s sudden bout of repentance might deliver Souza into our hands and save this city from a Zombie apocalypse.

“What the fuck are you doing here Ricardo?” Asks Crockett, “Why do you always have to try to cramp my style with your suave ways?”

Aren’t we buddies any more?

Force of Nature- Transmute (Still Going Remix)

(DFA stealthy assassins Still Going are surely onto something as their haunted remix of Force of Nature’s Transmute, which lies in a murky zone somewhere in between Ame and Goblin demonstrates. With metronomic pulse they build a cyclopean sonic cathedral which lays empty, all echo and blue shadows, awaiting for the return of suitable Gods, that distorted rumbling which is the breakdown constitutes an unmistakable portent of their imminent arrival.

You should also check their awesome remix of Low Motion Disco’s Love Love Love)

Crockett and Ricardo make an excellent detective team, and the success rate of their investigations more than makes up for the incompetence of the rest of the department, that is the reason I always let them get away with their obscene expense claims. I think that spiking their Copacabana cocktails with Peyote will contribute to increase the strength of their spiritual bond, as only an extreme psychedelic experience can do. Some might think this approach to human resource management is morally dubious, but I don’t care, because I know I am making history.

(Notes found in Lieutenant Castillo’s Diary after he was committed to the Riverdale Psychiatric Hospital).

Truffle Club- Gone Blue

(Mysterious agent provocateurs Dissident keep going from strength to strength, and their starkly decorated one-sided vinyl releases are becoming a staple in the record bags of forward thinking robotic disco DJs. The recent ‘Gone Blue’ EP from Glaswegian magi Truffle Club is another example of all that makes the references in this imprint so special, there is that love for sprawling arpeggiated synths which hover like the ghosts of an alien shipwreck above cryptic ruins buried under the icy bleeped-out electroid tundra. This music is ice that burns with the black flame of a mystery which is the same that mesmerised us first in Chris and Cosey’s incantations, later in the euro-techno adventures of the Knife. As the Glockenspiel starts chiming tall shadows grow in the distance, like the sepia revenants of Sergio Leone gunslingers advancing towards a ppointment in the high noon of a barren Carpenterian landscape, killer!)

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If you like this stuff you shall come to the Penthouse on Saturday where we will be celebrating our monthly psychedelic seance, we have the mighty Dave Liteyear guesting, and the Phil Collins 3 are bidding this Earth farewell downstairs . Expect the usual pastiche of infernal disco and heavenly noise, and the other way around. A bit like the tunes in the cassette of our car, depicted above.

We are also doing this in London next month. WHA.

You can also see Joakim with Allez Allez here this Saturday. Go Go Go!

labels >> Force of Nature, Gatto Fritto, Miami, Truffle Club