This could be Argentina or Ganymede. Only the one they call El Remolón knows for sure. He pushes the buttons on his keytar and the scenaries change.
He entrances his prey with heat haze-thick digital cumbia. His eyes are spinning zoetropes. We are his willing disciples.
He pedals the ferocious drug “Selva.” No, not salvia. SELVA. You must partake of the ritual dose and kneel before the shrine of Caetano Veloso for approximately 489 revolutions of Alfomega before you may enter the temple.
We don’t do much dancing nowadays, outside of popping fistfuls of Mimezine and waltzing through Hard Light with Terra, our 90s cyberspace G(uy)I(n)R(eal)L(ife)friend.
And dancing as art… nope, sorry. We don’t know about that one.
But we want to, because this has to be one of the most interesting Kickstarter hivemind projects we’ve come across.
A butoh dance piece by Michelle Morinaga with music composed by Kayo Dot’s Toby Driver, Ichneumonidae apparently “explores the astounding psyche of parasites, touching on dualities of survival and self-destruction, the perilous tensions of coexistence, and the subtle horrors of the colonized body.”
Which is appropriate, because if there’s anything XXJFG is about, then it is exploring the astounding psyche of parasites, touching on dualities of survival and self-destruction, the perilous tensions of coexistence, and the subtle horrors of the colonized body.
Like a swarm of psychic teens warping into the lounge or bedroom or public transport system or whatever geographical coordinates your physical body occupies, flipping the perceptual lights on and off at stroboscopic speeds and generating an REM effect or accelerating drone full of flashbacks like Eli Vance’s botched attempt to teleport Gordon Freeman for Black Mesa East, but faster, ravier, weirder.
And what is the substance of these flashbacks?
It’s varied, and includes: cosmic harmony and the explosion of life. This is conveyed by the seamless integration of gamelan’s evolutionary melody-sequences, standing for the clockwork logic of the cosmos, majestic like Zeus’ brow whence jumps Life, Athena-like, fully formed and armed, fierce and ready for a post-punk brawl. Or remember the awe-inspiring sequences of the universe in transition in Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life, and shift them from the temple to the dance-floor.
Which brings us to spirituality. There are no words that we could use to convey the joyous sense of peace, unity and harmony conveyed by the transcendental dynamics that unfurl in OOIOO’s music, or rather, there are but they have been hijacked by a zillion new age cults, to use them would be to taint the purity of the emotions surfing over OOIOO’s progressive information age animism. Not that we need to, here’s the music.
Gamel is coming out on the 1st of July. Pre-order it from Thrill Jockey.
Somewhat serendipitously, we stumble upon last years reissue + remixes of 3rd Face’s Canto Della Liberta, a song that we featured in 2004. The sonic (and sensorial, sensual and emotional) parallelisms between that track and OOIOO are obvious, which makes sense given how strongly they are both influenced by the ur-banger Secondo Coro Della Lavandaie, from Roberto de Simone’s play, La Gatta Cenerentorola.
(This is clearest in OOIOO’s Uma and Umo in their previous album, Taiga, and Gamel Uma Umo in Gamel, which does what it says in the tin)
Prins Thomas’ is our favourite remix of the lot (which you might have expected). He bumps up the drums into a disorientating vortex somewhere in between Liquid Liquid, The Boredoms and Kelis’ Milkshake, and organises the drop around some 1970s double-denim rock riffage, burly Godzilla to OOIOO’s aerodynamic M.U.T.O. There’s no-way anyone could ever go wrong with that, kids, we swoon.