Standing alone in the desert, pre-dawn. A chill wind whipping up dust devils that catch the bright moon light.
For a moment.
Then the focus is pulled to the great spires that fill the horizon. Glimmering against the deep blue sky. Their windows filled with fire, their structures reconfigured by the light emanating from their crumbling floors.
The dust devils know where the party’s at.
Running into one of the many concrete valleys — which has slowly filled with encroaching sand — our vessel for this post’s extended metaphor plunges through the forest of cyclopean futurist hulks, the distorting, tape-bent beats pounding off the walls. High above Gavin Russom watches from a former car insurance office (now sans walls) and smiles to himself in the knowledge that there are others. Glancing upwards for a moment he catches the forms of Derrick May and Carl Craig huddling around a fire, lit on an equally exposed floor of an old financial institution.
Down below the vessel nears the source of the sound as light cascades from the rising sun. 100s of people throb around a fire giving thanks to those who came before, those who provided us with such riches. A badly painted cloth hangs from an old piece of corporate art and reads: ‘Things should be made anew before they are destroyed again.’
Mi Ami‘s transmogrification may have been foretold long in advance of their gonzo mixtape for this web-zine but that Ballardarian car crash seems like the appropriate forge from which Dolphins emerged. Sunrise, the only instrumental on their latest EP is easiest to slip into the late 80s Chicago haze that stuffed Daniel’s record bag on their last trip to the UK but the entire EP is a love letter to much that 20JFG and Daniel and Damon (who now make up Mi Ami) hold dear.
Out as part of the Dolphins 12″ on March 14th on Thrill Jockey.