Tag Archives: Enfant Terrible

The Fall-Outer Church

Featuring : Europ Europ + German Army


This is the tenth time that 20jazzfunkgreats features German Army in its pages. Let’s have a party!

And what would this party be like?

A literal interpretation of their music brings to mind images of slowly turning wheels that propel instruments whose purpose is to cut your flesh.

A mythical interpretation involves glimmers of H.R. Giger-esque avatars circulating in silence over devastated badlands.

A socio-economic interpretation would see parallels between their sluggish doom and roll and the complex circumvolutions with which technological trajectories tear civilisations apart like exterminating angels. The clatter and click of multifaceted insects spying on your every act from their information hives.

These implications and suggestions metamorphose across domains like multi-dimensional homometabolous slake moths. And they add up to a post-punk party of politicised ambient, existential horror and vicious jacking. The kind of party that Throbbing Gristle would have thrown if they had been more into dub-reggae. A party where movement is to dance what J.G. Ballard is to sci-fi.

Our kind of party.

German Army – Communion Arm

German Army’s Last Language was featured in our 2013 adventure. But perhaps you died before getting to them. So here goes. You can purchase the record from A Giant Fern.

Here is the video Major Outlet, also in the record, which we are proud to premiere. You can watch previous German Army videos here.


Listening to Europ Europ’s ‘Repeating Mistakes in Life’ is like spinning the dial of a radio to surf the ether above Interplay Entertainment interpretation of Central-Europe’s apocalypse, just before venturing out of our nuclear shelter.

The songs portray landmarks in an uncanny valley between melody and noise, structure and entropy, man and machine. All sense becomes dissonance. Is that a number station or an obsessive ritual? A desperate lullaby morphs into a synthetic shriek, blades of distortion an acid house bass-line. Shit gaze is flayed, its entrails displayed in a metal table, where they transform into iron filings and dust.

There becomes here. The shadows that live in these places outside spill into our refuge and engulf us. We become a moment of beauty drowned in noise, the spectre of a song playing in someone else’s radio.

Europ Europ –  Not The Best Lie I’ve Had

Repeating Mistakes in Life is coming out on Enfant Terrible in the middle of February.

Drop a gem on thick oil, fling a jewel into a gut of jewels

Featuring : Mushy + Sololust


So here is the thing: Brooding diva Mushy, who has darkened our days & made our nights blinding with poems of doom drafted in a crumbling ruin, that Mushy, she has constructed a music compilation from the bottom up. It is called The End of Civilization. Mannequin Label is releasing it in vinyl today.

What is the message in this collection then? If this Civilization is ending, what will replace it, if anything at all?

The diagnosis of the decadence with which the previous cycle ends is vintage cold wave. The technological forces that humanity has foisted upon itself result in an eruption. Beneath the gradient, splendidly UXd façade of cognitive-cultural capitalism coil the same old forces, manifested not just in modern-times alienation (although there’s still a lot of that going), but also enforced idleness numbed by a stroboscopic glare of industrial spectacle, and social platforms for envy, titillation and espionage.

This dystopia is described with bubbling synthesisers, numb romanticism, a broken rebellion of people so young, so cold, so painfully aware of that emptiness inside one, inside others, between one and others.

We cannot tell what is the Shape of the Things that Come After. If Mushy & her coterie know, they are not telling. At best, they reveal the blurry contours of a New Dark Order. The cartography of streets that make their own use of things, streets that spawned gems like Rosemary’s Blind Myself.

The medium is the message is the medium and so forth.

In this instance, the hub where a myriad emotional wormholes in the shape of synthesiser lines that shine like necklaces made of teardrops converge, the framework for a glamorous disco stomper Ida No would have used to kick off the party tonight, if she had grown during the siege of City 17, instead of that dream of New Wave New York its outsiders dream.

No stars in her eyes, because she tore them out.

Rosemary – Blind Myself

You can acquire ‘The End of Civilization’ here. You will be able to see Mushy playing live in London this week. More information here, and at the end of the post.


We have learned what the End of Civilization looks like. But what does it feel like?

Ask Sololust.

In his self/titled 12’’ in Gooiland Elektro, he takes us in a tour through the ghostly airports of quasi-authoritarian countries, penthouses fitted with surgical metal & haute vacuity, the designed euphoria and robotic antics of the fashion disco party. Snapshots of a pyramid that is fascinating and awesome in its artificiality (i.e. its super-humanity), also fragile because it is built atop so much suffering & boredom.

And then there is the Ennui at its apex, an unspoken awareness of how little is at stake, and hence, an obsessive refocusing on the craft through which the unerringly banal McGuffin is delivered. Think of the expectation in the set-up of each of the novels of the Bigend Trilogy, and the disappointment of their resolution.

Exposure is the immaculately produced techno soundtrack for one of those intrigues. A corporate knife fight/Intellectual Property rip-off/product feature leak procedural that could have (or already has, or will have) starred you, design-aware knowledge worker/ free agent of the Creative Economy.

Don’t be fooled by the beige office furniture, tile browsers & nouveau retro tortoiseshell glasses, this is as hardboiled, vicious, virtualised & uncanny as the scenario of any cyberpunk hallucination. People get killed in this place.

The infernal arpeggio kicks in, just as you press *click*, and send that e-mail.

Sololust – Exposure

You can pre-order the 12’’ from Enfant Terrible Productions.

Here you have some more information about Mushy’s London Visit this week.

February 14th (Thursday) Power Lunches – w/ Y and Apostille – Facebook event

February 15th (Friday) – Rough Trade East in-store – Rough Trade website

February 15th  (Friday) – Manero Bar – Belle Sauvage Fashion Week Party – Facebook event

Even Cthulhu Needs Hugs

Featuring : The New Age

The New Age is the current vehicle for Swedish singer-songwriter Sara Lunden (no relation to the Danish jumper-wearer), and Soft Touch is her contribution to the Enfant Terrible-curated soundtrack to Exploitation by Edwin Brienen.

We don’t know much about Edwin Brienen except that he was the auteur behind Terrorama!, Hysteria, The Last Performance and other strange-looking filmic entities of which only trailers seem to exist. According to Enfant Terrible, Brienen makes excessively violent movies that poke fun at “sensitive subjects of our post 9/11 era and post-postmodern period: religion, sex, and politics; from fundamentalist Islam to the prudish Christianism, through exuberant homosexuality, and the delusion of formatted heterosexuality.”

As a bunch of polite nice jumper-wearing (mostly) Brighton-dwelling liberals, XXJFG doesn’t usually go much in for PC-baiting shock tactics, so we’ll leave you clever lot to decipher for yourself the motivations of this cineverse. What we do know, though, is that this 2LP soundtrack is all kinds of awesome. Full of crunching industrial minimalism and sleek, sparse, synth poems.

Within the unrelenting thud and pulse of the soundtrack’s four sides, Soft Touch – the album’s (and presumably film’s) final track – is the only space of vulnerability. As such, in this context, it teeters almost into faux-naivety, while at the same time reading as desperately, unapologetically heartfelt. Much like how the Twin Peaks soundtracks beautifully navigate an almost-untenable thread connecting the hyper-exaggerated sentiment of incidental sitcom muzak and psyche-staining horror (mostly within the same few soft jazz cadences).

And they’re the greatest soundtracks of all time.

Soft Touch is brutally simple. There can’t be any more than four chords in the whole song. The lyrics are not complex. The melody sounds like it was made up on the spot. Trying to parse the simple yearning of the song with Brienen’s schlock-laden trailers has us hunting for cynicism and irony… but coming up delightfully empty. This is just one great love song. Its design is flawless.

It works as well as Beyoncé and Frank Ocean’s similarly stark I Miss You, and reminds us a little of old-skool XXJFG heroine Sally Shapiro.

The New Age – Soft Touch

We don’t spend every day wishing the world was more like a Lovecraft story, you know. Even Cthulhu needs hugs.