They generally involve the assassination of high-ranking politicians, industrialists, civil servants and Secret Society leaders (remember, magic is real), and their replacement with psychologically conditioned and/or remotely controlled puppets, figureheads and Manchurian candidates.
The identities of the victims of such ploys vary, and lead to subtly different balances of global power after implementation. This is of course all artifice; remember that it is Henrich Dressel who rules this future world no matter who is showing in the screen of your Television at 8 O’clock.
Also, remember that this Television is broadcasting all sorts of subliminal messages, neural network reconfiguring messages and emetic brain-locks to keep you on the lookout for subversives, and dedicated at the factory, so that we may complete on time the manufacture of Spaceship Integral, with which we will conquer extra-terrestrial planets. Or at least that’s what they say in the news.
Perhaps you think that the release of these songs, and the eventual decryption of their contents is a serious blow against Dressel. Perhaps you should think again buster.
Just take ‘The black radiant sky’, with a New Beat swagger that reminds us of that time when ‘the Duke Arrives’ in Escape from New York, if only the Duke was a Ming the Merciless Style Sultan of Galactic Evil, rather than the big boss of a post apocalyptic penitentiary. Its militaristic metronome and weird laboratory sounds express the irrepressible advance of an army endowed with ghastly weaponry by the R&D arm of a multidimensional military industrial complex.
Resistance is futile, this is what this music is telling you, this is why it was released. It’s all part of the Master Plan.
Something strange happened the other day as I was commuting past Clapham Junction, sampling some of the hot-off-the-20jazzfunkgreats-inbox sounds in my portable media player.
It was when the Les Années Folles 12″ compilation soon to be published by Enfant Terrible started playing. It was as if the devious Deus Ex Machina in a Philip K. Dick delusion had flipped the switch of my perceptual filters .
The blue sky turned grey, and was populated by predatory sky-sharks-drones. Rifle-barrels protruded by the side of the CCTV cameras, which swerved with a newly acquired insectoid buzz.
Before, I had been surrounded by a blank army of commuters picking at their portable devices. My current companions were gaunter and more heavily made up, they browsed anxiously dog-eared paperbacks, newspapers and bulletins from COUM Transmissions with glaring headlines: TERROR, WAR, TREASON, SHOCK. What bare flesh remained in those pages was clad in leather. Some of them were smoking.
The train crossed the Thames and London opened in front of my eyes like a Babylonian hive, its banks bristling with statues of soldiers from wars I couldn’t remember, Big Bertha howitzers from a war that hadn’t finished, and sleek skyscrapers like alien syringes pumped with neon: NIGHT, COME, DARK, DARE. Sigils of what we were fighting for.
This was only the beginning. If you want to find out what happened next, you will have to wait until the release of Les Années Folles, whose songs (including 20jazzfunkgreats friends such as Gold Zebra or Terminal Twilight) soundtrack different episodes in our explorations of this imperfectly commemorated, surely distorted nuclear spring.
Cute Heels and Devon Disaster’s ‘Slave Toy’ describes our visit to the after-hours living meat raffle. It all begins like an intellectually eviscerated variant of a David Cronenberg fetish, self-confident enough to deliver lines such as ‘hit it hard like a dirty dream’ that bring us back to the heyday of Electroclash. And then the synthesisers kick in, like Argento gloved fingers breaking through the thin veils of this reality, hauling us from an EBM diorama into higher planes of perversion.
Go and pre-order Les Années Folles from Enfant Terrible.