In one of mankind’s archetypal tales, the protagonist runs off a cliff and away from the pressures of age, conformity and submission. If the protagonist is alone, she precipitates into the void, shackled by those chains that cannot be escaped, viz. gravity, and towards oblivion, under the vicarious gaze of those who daren’t, those who can’t because they are too entangled already.
But when a critical mass of runners run together, then even the basic constraints of physics can be thwarted, if only briefly, and flight happens. Peter Pan’s punk commune exemplifies the power of peer supported unrealistic subversion.
Another famous example of that collective magic is that of the pied piper of Hamelin, who took all the children away from the rat-ridden village of hypocrisy, and into the country of mystery.
Today we commemorate their legendary flight with one of Space.Rec’s finest, Jonathan Kusuma. In Invisible Stream, he updates the jaunty procession away from the burgh of tedious beats and immediate gratification, taking us over grassy hills which put a bounce on our step, across fields peppered with sturdy windmills that grind the yummiest grain, up magical mountains invigilated by African totems, and into a cave which is a club where the innocent dance for all eternity, caught in a spell which is a möbius strip made of pure bass.
Included in the Mixed Signals EP, that you should get in all its glory here.
The ghost ship is another unforgettable image that swirls like a horrific jellyfish in the bottomless pool over which we built our house, dampening the walls of our cellar with glorious nightmares where claustrophobia and agoraphobia collide over a liquid wasteland. The Flying Dutchman, the Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym and the spectro-piratical onslaught of those who dwell in the Fog are but three examples.
The Borealis, an ominous McGuffin that we hope will be resolved within our lifetimes, may well be the most recent addition to this nautical school of dread – a vessel commissioned by the xenophorming traitors of the Combine, carrying a cargo that is the harbinger of catastrophe. The North, brainchild of Chicago-based Norse phantom-lord Snorre Sjønøst Henriksen, delivers the perfect soundtrack for its inexorable transit across oceans of madness, a metallic symphony of ever-mounting terror bearing the hallmark of John Carpenter’s satanic shipyard, beyond the bay of Hades.
We expect The North to be releasing more greatness on tape very soon.
And as a bonus, here you have the latest video from Led Er Est’s phenomenal 12, by House Plants. Or – a lullaby designed by DARPA boffins to dispel the nuclear holocaust fears of a cybernetic telecommunications system in its first stages of self-awareness, and lull it into sleep. It will awake soon, stronger, and it’s going to be payback time.