A 2010 study presented at the the Association for Psychological Sciences convention in Boston found that playing video games that involve reckless driving is associated with IRL reckless driving, “including speeding, crossing double yellow lines, tailgating and being pulled over by the police.”
In our own XXJFG study, peer-reviewed by Giorgio Moroder and the saintly apparition of Donna Summer, playing video games that involve reckless driving is also associated with mixtapes that blare immortal-sounding house music, seeing the world in 8-bit colours, pretending you’re the dude from Outrun and being totally friggin awesome.
It could be very different. You could be in a universe where 20jazzfunkgreats lives in a constant 503 state. Or in a universe where 20jazzfunkgreats publishes complex analyses of the physics of crabcore1. Or in a universe where 20jazzfunkgreats is operational, thanks to a top notch digital infrastructure funded through advertising, product placement and other forms of revenue generation.
But you aren’t. You are in a universe where 20jazzfunkgreats is more or less the way it was when it came into existence ca. 10 years ago, a universe where 20jazzfunkgreats spends its Sundays scowling at passing children from the window of its manor, while its considers alternative scenarios for the evolution of Planet Earth, if only the multi-dimensional dice that shape cultural change had landed differently.
But before you start feeling lucky, consider this:
If you can read this page, then that means you are based in a universe where ERE Electronique 1988 video game ‘Captain Blood’ didn’t become the blueprint for a new and weird phase of interactive entertainment that would support mankind in the next stage of its evolution.
In other words, you are not based in a world where creating a H.R. Giger inspired game about an Errol Flynn obsessed video game designer exiled in hyperspace who has to hunt 5 of his clones to reconnect with humanity, by building the trust of alien species using an alphabet of 150 icons and navigating fractal landscapes wasn’t ‘the way things are done.’
Instead, you are based in a universe where such things are considered oddities, weird experiments described in the footnotes of a history of the evolution of the medium leading to a current situation where a not-insignificant proportion of the game-playing public behaves online in a way reminiscent of the mindless tendrils of abominable putrescence one encounters crawling down the dimly lit caverns of Dark Souls’ Blight Town.
Zooloklogie is also featured in Zoolook, the album whence Ethnicolor was extracted, and sounds like the theme tune for Miami Vice if Miami Vice was set in a gnostic world where, after the awakening of the collective intelligence and the convergence of all languages, the only regulated commodities were complex epistemological concepts that can send its citizens into paradoxical Gödel loops where a contemporary visitor might see echoes of ‘breakdancing’.
1 Crabcore as in emaciated youngsters squatting over their guitars like priapic frogs, not the version we prefer, that EDM sub-genre developed by the secretive arthropod visitors H.P. Lovecraft alluded to in “Whisperer in Darkness’ (we have analysed the physic of that modality of crabcore several times; in fact, one of the purposes why we started this blog was to analyse that modality of crabcore).
A night-time/nightmare aesthetic of Kawaii and dub. At times a breathless duet between two rampaging ids. As if the internet were made flesh.
18+’s Crow is a nightmare. Not like those almost comforting sketches of horror; linear and formulaic with a beginning a bloody middle and a cathartic end. A nightmare in the maddening repetition of that crow sample. Like Game of Thrones web art . An avian layering: one atop another, compressing into a insane chant.
“On these recordings, we play the cello, the double bass, the trombone, the e-flat tuba, the church organ, the piano, the harpsichord, the clavichord, and the alphorn; we also use our voices, electronics, numerous birdcalls, some random toys and percussion, and a few other instruments.”
Bristophe are the musical partnership of Brice Catherin and Christophe Schweizer. Anrufung is a sliver from their remarkable most recent improvised live collection. It doesn’t make much sense in isolation, but then neither do we.
You need to let the full two discs’ worth of material seep into you – this strange conversation between two men mediated by reeds, bells, strings, and hammers – and live with it until it turns into words, pictures and a language your brain understands too.
For us, perishable sacks of fluid bouncing irregularly in trajectories full of confusion, waste and loss? Yes, the events contained within this album, in tracks such as ‘Stream Terminal’, ‘Machine Ecology’ or ‘Loading Vistas’ would undoubtedly be extreme.
Less so for neural networks evolved over aeons of subjective time, stretched across a Solar System-wide web, singularly conscious yet multiplying, shards of themselves implemented in impossibly sleek and highly specced hardware: ships, satellites, feats of astro-engineering, anthropomorphic, insectoid and gaseous probes navigating the empty geographies of Mars, Venus, Jupiter and its many moons, skating down the rings of Saturn in missions in the intersection between science and poetry.
And extreme in what way?
In the way in which technological systems evolved to achieve the deterministic inevitability of nature would feel extreme.
So, think of the artistic or architectural equivalent of ‘extreme weather events’. Cyclopean eyes blinking from massive impact craters, palaces of crystal rising from forlorn mesas, armies of anime-like arthropods covering tomorrow’s terminal beaches glyphs and emoji for ultra-complex feelings, vast instruments recording the post-human civilizational equivalent of a romantic mixtape after their first cosmic date.
Your time in this planet is limited, and as a logical consequence, it will only contain a few instances of true bliss. You should be grateful to have evolved the sensibility to experience them, and that there are sensations that bring them about.
You should also cherish them as precious things, perhaps even use them as benchmarks of your mortality.
Watch out for the signs of bliss before it arrives, new gradients of light transforming the horizon, molecules of joy spreading across your circulatory system, the pieces of a puzzle sliding together just before you realise its solution is at hand, the sonic glimmer of the first micro-seconds in Bing and Ruth symphony for the birth of a new world. Then say thank you, and surrender to bliss as it washes you away with its tidal might.
We have been listening to Bing and Ruth’s Tomorrow Was The Golden Age a lot in the last few days, it’s been good for us. It is coming out in October on RVNG Intl, and you should pre-order it now.