Your head spins and reality parses itself into pixels. You push harder on through the forest of ones and zeros. Distantly you hear the sounds of whistling metal – a shiny, singing sound. But the texture of your surroundings are too tantalising for danger to appear plausible, or tangible, or even describable.
Out of spinning metal sheets come words.
Spinning blocks of grey and amber eventually coalesce into a stone room, bathed in soft, hypnagogic torchlight. In the centre of the room is a stone lecturn. On the lecturn is a laptop. Swaying from hip to hip behind the laptop is a woman, eyes fixated on the LCD screen, her face rotates between lust and disgust.
“At night, I watch people fucking on my computer…”
Is she singing to you or no one? Herself or the apparitions on her computer?
I FEEEEEL DEEESIRE. Her head throws back and vomits a stream of pixels at the ceiling, which cascade down the stone walls in tumbling, Lego block fragments of pornography.
You inch forwards, mesmerised. She flickers. Her dancing is jagged, never fully buffering.
“Like sex without the bodies,” she mutters, a spell. “Like smoke rings from my pussy.”
You reach out to touch, the torches flame up into a world-razing solar flare and she screams: “More to burning and SEX and GOD!!!”
When the fire clears you hear the metal before you see it. You dodge the first blade, a circular saw spinning through the wall to your right. You duck the second – screaming down from the ceiling. It’s the third that gets you, when the stone floor turns into a treadmill and you go whooshing back straight into the slice of an atom-flaying blade behind you.
The photography accompanying this entry is from Lisa Byrne‘s amazing pinhole long exposures of couples fucking. Jenny Hval made our art pop album of 2013 – a brilliant, provocative piece of art that was indeed also pop! The Haxan Cloak had a pretty phenomenal 2013, crossing over from drone marginality to near-mainstream acceptance.