Ah, and now it’s time for the Halloween post. Should it visit once again the extraterrestrial fear of Arkham, the rural dread of MR James’s Suffolk or the crimson dreams of Lord Argento. Well, that would be not unlike every day in the ash grey world of 20JFG. For the brutal truth is that Halloween…
Time trapped in the Forbidden Zone of our gilded capital affords plenty of opportunity to cultivate that particular blend of alienation that’s only curtailed by the mp3-playing-device welded to our pockets. It takes a special brand of familiar to keep the calluses from forming on our dark souls – something that sits on the wrong…
We were recently most thrilled and inspired by the techologies, touched upon in Finn Peters Music of the Mind project. Now what you have here is the means to turn brainwaves into musical pitches. This means that, in only a few years time a man will be able to literally ‘think’ a composition into being…
Some things I picked up on the way out of the venue. A mighty wind blew opened the windows of our house on a gloomy Sunday morning of crammed ashtrays, a crammed sink, no unwatched VHS tapes and many a pizza box to jettison. Crouched from the sofa we stared into the pale outside from…
Will Burnett has blown away the wetware from our titanium endoskeletons twice this week already. The forthcoming releases on his own WT Records by Pagan Futures and Model Man, and his works as Grackle, Galaxy Toobin’ and The Speculator, indulge in the kind of syncopated synth endeavours that turns lowly 20JFG scribes into armour-clad battle automaton, uniting…
The laws of symmetry demand that the cyborg voodoo ecosystems portrayed in Count Zero be balanced by a luminous counterpart of techno-enhanced nature, but nature nevertheless. The reciprocal of devious digital loa riding surgically enhanced child prodigies in a road trip up the Eastern seaboard is a jungle of blinding green where Earth’s juices infiltrate…
Every action carries its own reaction- whiplash and backlash. These days we hear much malingering of two things mostly, ‘Chill Wave’ and ‘Drag’. The problem with these two sub-genres is that the materials and tonalities that define them are rather bare, and thus easy to replicate by any aspiring upstart with access to the technology….
We wonder which abandoned military bases did Scorpion Violente raid for their vicious armaments, under a full moon surely. What we don’t doubt is that in due time they will be approached by dour spooks with craggy faces, cropped hair and suspicious bulges under their cheap polyester jackets with some questions about the illegal footprint…
A-SIDE An ascending melody ripped from the unseen Rekall infomercial on transdimensional holidays to worlds made entirely of laser edged vectors. A synth line like a long smooth shard of neon-flecked cyberpunk unease ripped straight from your favourite Reagan-era escapist dystopia. The filtered hand-clap electro drumbeat that was to be so abused during its teenage…
“Nobody knows they’re here. But I do. I see them on the train, I see them in the shop. But even moreso these days, I see them in my neigbourhood. There must be a good landing spot around here, or maybe they are nesting in some big disgusting slimy hive somewhere. Whatever it is, they’re…
We ran out of fuel before we could reach space. Our crops were ravaged by mutant plagues. We are at war against the invisible, frontiers between paranoid nations turned into scorched no man’s lands patrolled by death squads on a prophylactic mission. We have regressed to the days before the Industrial Revolution, cheap labour and…
Imagine, if you will, a moment in time far later than this one. A moment when the optimistic dreams of this generation have been realised and, with a crushing inevitability, abandoned. Towering pyramids of exotic meta-materials; constructed in avarice and then consigned to decay. Transport tubes cracked, wind whipping through their bowels. A film of…
The blog infrastructure went feral on us as we were typing this evening, so you are only getting one song this time. But it should be enough. (This is a black ops patch featured in the book that we stole the title of this post from- you can get it here. And as ever, thanks…
Hello, my name is Dutch Dark, and before joining the 20Jazzfunkgreats cabal for the retrieval of esoteric artefacts I was a deep scuba diver with an outfit so secret I had its name erased from my memory when I was discharged for being too much of a maverick. What I did there is nothing compared…
Planet Earth, what a right old shithole. Hundreds of year of abuse by its inhabitants have left her an infertile husk, a rotten mother whos scarce, poisoned milk is fought over by five hundred billion pups, the last lollipop in the shop. A dire famine has swept through most of the planet like a spectre…