As you well know, we have been splashing on the murky waters of romantic entrepreneurialism through our 20jazzfunk dates service. In this brokerage role, we have learned much about the courtship and mating rituals of certain freakish variations of the human genome, as well as several alien, technological and institutional ones- we pride ourselves on ensuring quality of service by sending spy drones to capture the user experience of a random sample of our clients.
It is now when, in true Attenboroughish style we convey to you some of our discoveries. We hope that this will not only enlighten, delight and scintillate the regular punters, but also help us attract a new readership with a penchant for the risqué that we can target with our invisible advertising banners.
(This image was captured at the NASA Spaceflight forum, of all places)
Users 010336XX and 010577YX met for a drink in the refuelling fields of Betelgeuse, after being matched by our patented LOVEBOXX algorithm. Fortunately they both work in the transport sector, which gave them common ground to break the proverbial ice and avoid those awkward silences that afflict many a first date. They used radio channels to discuss frequent professional annoyances, you know how you have to slow down when outside Hawking Space because the crew’s puny skeletons can’t handle mega-gravitational pressures, they are always asking to be beamed up and down asteroids for no discernible purpose, constantly messing around with the prophylactic procedures after the exploration of alien planets, when will Dallas learn blah blah blah.
After a while they switched on to directional mikes. User 010336XX subtly opened his missile ports, a glimpse of the tip of a thermonuclear head. A momentary refraction in the lens of 010577YX’s camera cluster. “Something is brewing” muttered our technosexologist, Dr. Portento Gomes (was he rubbing his fingers with glee, was that a glimmer of drool shining in the corner of his thin lips? Alas, this is what happens when you cut on start up costs by hiring personnel from the backwaters of the academic galaxy). Yet he was to be disappointed, both users had some professional commitments to fulfil. They parted ways into Hawking Space, not before exchanging communication codes and agreeing to meet up again soon. (Details: https://coincierge.de/bitqt/)
So far so good.
We never expected what was to follow, there must have been some encrypted communication going on between them before their follow on date, for they showed up at their rendezvous carrying full crews somewhere in between irate, befuddled and panicked at their rebellious vessels, think a raunchy version of HAL you never knew existed messing up with the schedule of your next Genestealer extermination trip. User 010336XX approached 010577YX first coyly, deploying a vast array of antennas, lasers and solar panels that reflected the light of the closest stars into a dazzling rainbow, a chromatic code of technological lust. The servo-powered mining arms of 010577YX opened into a welcoming embrace, and so they came together, their sensory apparatuses entangled in a complex insectoid dance, and as Dr. Portento Gomes ran to the toilet, they docked without any precautionary pressurisation measures, a frozen mist exploded into space and, as a new sun was born and their crews perished, they became one.
Then they jumped into Hawking Space, never to be seen again.
DYX’ Lips in the Darkness is the sort of thing you would expect from the mind behind Austin’s finest techno perv MVSCLZ, a repetitive piece of liminal sci-fi sexuality where a rich vein of Detroit electro is located, mined and shoved over 2 Live Crew’s cybernetic reincarnations to power a tantalising bout of liquid vogueing. Think DJ Assault after reading too much Charles Stross. Actually, don’t think anything. Just shake it.
(We got this wonderful image at the rather cool information and visualisation blog)
We didn’t need to use any privacy-law infringing techniques to assess the performance of our most abstract coupling so far, between Users 080745W and 0604411X. We simply hired an intern to collect stock exchange and M&A data from the Wall Street Journal. Although both users came from different backgrounds (Chicago NACE code C.10.1.1 and London 2003 SIC-4 72.22 respectively), LOVEBOXX had nevertheless detected convergent trends in their life stories. 080745W (let’s call it ‘Hunk’) was coming from a long term relationship. 0604411X (‘Belle’) by contrast, had experienced several ups and downs recently. Maybe it could work out.
Their first date, at McKinsey’s NYC offices, didn’t quite happen though. Their production models and organisational cultures, capital outlays and business models were almost opposite- Hunk was all about efficiency and throughput, Belle kept banging on about funding rounds and open source engagements. They said C YA to each other, Hunk thinking Belle was kooky and shallow, Belle finding Hunk unbearably crass and unsophisticated. We didn’t think tit was going to happen, and gave the engineer that had implemented the serendipity mechanism in LOVEBOXX a good dressing down.
But seismic shifts in the wider landscape made them reconsider. Hunk realised that maybe he needed a bit of excitement, some disruption in the usual routine. In the midst of uncertainty, bulky, ham-fisted Hunk started to look like a more appealing prospect to Belle. The next date was arranged via a legal firm in London. They stared at each other with eyes anew amid a rain of transactions, constant alterations in their proportions driven by fluctuations in the exchange rates. And something clicked, Hunk was blinded by Belle’s intangibles, Belle surrendered to Hunk’s solid asset sheets. And they danced, across a material world where the operating systems of heavy duty machinery were updated and networked, somewhat loose operational procedures reciprocally tightened down and optimised, immaterial hands with managerial digits deftly probing synergy centres, they danced across a sea of data where capital vows were exchanged under the admiring, in some cases disbelieving gaze of a thousand analysts, their structures merged seamlessly lubricated by obscene cash flows.
Some time has passed now, and in spite of the usual arguments and culture clashes, they are still together. We have heard that they are expecting their second spin off, it will potentially look like its brother, a strange yet still healthy hybrid with the stainless steel gaze of its dad, the illuminated streak of its mum.
The latest Night Slugs 12” (go get) comes with three ace Jam City refixes, our favourite one being the pumped out version of DJ Deeon’s classic Let Me Bang. It does what it says in the box with a killer one two one two, Bangalter style bounce with a London skank flourish on the right, a pensive shroud of synthetic abstraction on the left. The result is a weirdly wistful musclefest, like chasing pixies down a meat packaging warehouse.