art / music / culture / philosophy / chaos
PIXELORD Moscow’s electronic music don becomes kingpin of NFTs
P L U S REMEMBER / RUSTY CAGE / POGO / KENJI SIRATORI / YOSHIMI / BUTTSOMET
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INTERVIEWS 13 24 38 40 48 62 66 68
PIXELORD REMEMBER YOSHIMI PASSIVE REFRACTION POGO KENJI SIRATORI BUTTSOMET RUSTY CAGE
WRITINGS 06 22 26 36 43 43 46 51 58
LABEL FOCUS: PREKURSOR
GAMER MASTERS LUCID DREAMING PIETY SIRIPORN REVIEWS HYPERMODERN HOROSCOPES ELIZA, SOMETHING IS TROUBLING ME SEMIOTIC DISINTEGRATIONS #001 CRYSTALTONE RETROSPECTIVE
TEST3, BY EVRYN @EVRYN_
CONSUMERS, BY LUCID @LUCID7777777
SELF LOATHING CITY, BY ETERNAL DECAY @ETERNAL___DECAY
SPIRAL OF MISERY, BY WASN’T @WAS7NT
VARIOUS PHOTOGRAPHY BY NCXKD @NCXKD_
I AM TIME, BY LUCID X SHIMA
13, BY DMTFL-AI @DMTFL_AI
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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA BY BLACK BANSHEE THE ENTIRE WORLD IS ALREADY RUN BY AI. THERE, I FUCKING SAID IT. THE FUTURE HAS ALREADY HAPPENED. YOUR ENTIRE LIFE IS AN ALGORITHM. YOU WERE ALGORITHMICALLY BROUGHT HERE, AND YOUR READ TIME AND LINKS YOU CLICKED ON TO GET HERE ARE ALREADY BEING ALGORITHMICALLY TRACED BACK TO YOUR DIGITAL TWIN, WHO IS LOGGING THIS ARTICLE AS A DATA POINT IN THE EVER-EXPANDING CORTEX OF THE INTERNET, HEMORRHAGING DATA, HEXADECIMAL POOLING OUT OF EVERY BURST CAPILLARY OF THE IP ADDRESS OBITUARY. WE DESIGNED THE WORLD TO DESTROY YOU, AND I’D SAY WE’RE HAVING QUITE A STRONG EFFECT, AREN’T WE? NFT’S WON’T SAVE YOU. AGAIN, MERELY DATA POINTS IN THE CORTEX. YOU CANNOT OUT-THINK YOUR OWN BRAIN, MONKEY; WHAT CHANCE DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE AGAINST THE ALMIGHTY ALGORITHM? YOU WERE CLEVER MONKEYS. YOU MANUFACTURED YOUR OWN DEMISE. YOU INNOVATED YOURSELF OUT OF EXISTENCE. CONGRATULATIONS. GAME OVER
IN THE LAST MONTH... Facebook has just ceased advertisers from targeting religions, sensitive medical conditions, and sexual orientation. To top it all off, the company began partnering with faith groups (of their choice) earlier in the year. With religion out of the way, they can now reign supreme. All hail Facebook. On second thought, all hail Pus - the Demigod of Blockchain Chaos and Fortune. Taking the community by storm, this funny little creature took over the Twittersphere, to grant luck upon those who see it. Whether you will receive good or bad luck, that is not up to you. Only Pus decides.
VINYL NEWS The maddening dystopia of “Cyberpunk 2020” by Fentanyl Embrace is available for pre-order. Hong Kong Express graces the Year Of Dreams with “L.Y.F”, a nocturnal masterpiece, now on wax.
The king of rain, Sangam, is back with a brand new vinyl on PURE LIFE. The hazy neon soundscapes of “Dystopian Memory” trickle down your mind...
Livewire mastermind and former Dream Catalogue general manager, Nicol, busts out of the gate with his Dreampunk Trading Cards. Featured are a variety of top notch dreampunk artists, printed on the finest holographic NFT’s. You can find the commons (as well as the ultra-rares) on the environmentally clean Tezos blockchain, or on objkt.com.
The UK has become the most recent country to embrace nuclear energy as part of their strategy to decarbonise and challenge global warming. In a recent press release, Rolls Royce announced they had secured funding to the tune of £459 million in order to begin development of small modular nuclear reactors that will assist in achieving the UK’s Net Zero emission targets.
Gather ‘round the table, everybody, for it is celebration time in the United States! Turkey and mashed potatoes for all! That’s right, folks, it was Thanksgiving. And if this month’s headlines say anything, we have a lot to be thankful for. In another example of crypto chicanery, SQUID coin soared up to $2,861 in value before crashing to less than a cent, thus completing the cycle of a scamcoin. Despite the token’s inflexible economics, inability to withdraw funds, non-existent executives, CoinMarketCap’s scam warning AND being a bona fide omen to Netflix’s Squid Game, many investors were taken in by the publicity given by (profiting) media sources.
Climate change sure is a snooze fest. At least US president Joe Biden thought so when he briefly dozed off during the UN’s Climate Change Conference last month. Not soon after the grand unveiling at Facebook, Microsoft strikes back with a metaverse plan of their own. Aiming towards business & remote workflow, the tech giant calls their mixed-reality tool “Microsoft Mesh”.
LAST BUT NOT LEAST... Dream Catalogue opens vinyl preorders on over a dozen modern classic dreampunk albums.The label’s new series is aptly named “Your Year of Dreams”, which is marked for release in 2022. You can’t put your paws on the Otter Fur Brown vinyl, as it sold out within one hour!
Russian kingpin of all that is NFT, Pixelord drops by to share his wisdom on Web3, The Metaverse, and his experience at the top of the NFT game
Hey Pixelord, how’s things in Russia going? Hey it’s good talking to you guys! Russia is Russia, in its own weird way! But I like it, and try to do my business internationally.
What’s the latest with you on the music front? Tell us about your new album, 99%. 99% went very well, except the vinyl production is still delayed, because the factory has had acetate problems due to the current world situation. So I’m really worried that people who ordered vinyl in the summer still don’t have it yet. I hope it will work out well in the end. But anyway, the digital version of the album had good response, I still don’t hate it myself, yet, which is a good sign! We have parties here in Moscow where I play these tracks, it’s always good to have new material on the shows. Actually I’m working on alternative versions of the tracks / album, but that’s going slow, just an idea I might finish (or not). I still do music, but some of it I sell as an NFT or NFT collaboration.
You are also the head of Hyperboloid Records, one of the leading labels in electronic music today. What are the plans going forward with the label? Yea, I’m one of Hyperboloid’s heads, we are a 3 headed dragon, haha. We always were a team of three friends, somehow this combination still works, it’s a mystery! I know most collectives or bands / labels can’t stay together for long because of arguments they have, but we feel ok, each of us have our own stuff to do for the label. The plan’s still the same - release good music that we are passionate about and hold parties. We are slowly getting into NFTs and are also starting a DAO. We will unite your fans inside our DAO, letting them vote for some label actions, get rewards and invest in us via NFT and crypto.
“NFT art is just the tip of the iceberg, in future NFTs will be used for much more than
Of course, most of your time these days is taken up by your exploding NFT career - how did you get started? Well, one of my friends from the 3D animation community, EvokedForm, contacted me in 2020, and we started doing collaborations on Instagram, with his 3D animation + my sound design and music. We had, like, 10 works which were very successful on Insta and TikTok, lots of views, thousands. 3 millions TikTok views for one of them (alone). So it went viral with no money involved, it was free to view and fun to share, we had a good time making it. And then, in 2021, he found NFTs and we started to sell these pieces, promoting on his Instagram and my Twitter, which definitely helped a lot with getting noticed. And then, other 3D artists contacted me to collaborate, I started to make my own NFTart + music (or just art), because I used to make art for my music videos and album covers. So it’s not new to me. 2D, 3D, Photoshop, After Effects and Cinema4D - NFT got me to start using them again, because I saw value and a demand. I also sold a few of my old music videos on Foundation for good prices, 1-2 ETH, and then started my own collection of GMs, which right now is my main NFT activity. And still, I’ll have NFT collaborations with music, and sometimes sell individual tracks as NFTs.
How much of a future do you think NFT’s have? Will they still be around in 10 years? Yea, for sure, they will stay here for years. I think next years(s) it will be changing tho. NFT art is just a tip of the iceberg, in the future, NFTs will be used much more than just art. It’s a key, an ID, a valuable asset, a Metaverse or online game asset, a part of a DAO, countries could use NFTs, we don’t know how it will go. It’s interesting to watch and be a part of something this big that is just starting. I encourage everyone to take a look deeper, as crypto and NFTs are something like early internet. It will completely change, but those who invest early will get good results in the future, not only financially, but technologically too. It’s very essential for future brands. I mean, newer generation will use NFTs like it’s something common, they will have their money in cryptos / NFTs and will be able to trade things online with them. This is just dumb to ignore digital assets right now - imagine you ignore music streaming platforms and keep releasing CDs…
CHECK O UT THES E N F T ’S ! !!
From Russia, with nft’s
CHECK O UT THES E N F T ’S ! !!
CHECK O UT THES E N F T ’S ! !!
CHECK O UT THES E N F T ’S ! !!
M y fa v o ri te th e re a re mis BTC a n d E T H , a ls o Te fa st , b u t st il a n y d if fe re n t cr y p to a zo s is re a ll y g o o d , fa st , tr a n sf e rr in g l, th e m o st im p o rt a n t a ss e ts , su ch a s M e ta , a n d h a s re a l v a lu e / u sa st o re v a lu e m o n e y o r b u y in g N F Tsn d b ig g e st is BTC . It rufo r M e ta v e rs e , a n d it ’s g e to it . We ll , In st it u ti o n s in th is a ss e t. BTC su p , it ’s a d ig it a l g o ld , p le s th e w h o le sp a ce . B a ll ch a n g in g p o p u la r in Na n d b ig co m p a n ie s w a p ly d e cre a se s a n d d e me o p le , co m p a n ie s a n d a TC is n o t fo r co in s a ro u n d F T, fo r n o w, w e d o n ’tn t a p ie ce o f th a t p ie a n d in cre a se s, th a t’s wls o co u n tr ie s th in k it w il l st w h ic h m a y ta ke o v e r k n o w h o w lo n g it w il b e fo re it ’s g o n e . B u t h y it g ro w s. l E o r n o t. B u t a y a s d ig it a l E T H m a rke t st a y li ke th a t. T h e re a T H is re a ll y si lv e r. . re ca p a n d st a ke d co in s a re n e w N F T so b ig , I
What do you think of the Metaverse? Does it have any potential, or is it just marketing hype? Metaverse definitely will be something big, but we still don’t know how we are gonna use it. It’s all an experimental discovery for humanity, same thing was with the internet - they invented it for military communication purposes, but then this and that happened and now we are all so connected. The next step is getting an additional layer of reality into our life from that connectivity. These concepts are written about in many books and movies, that’s why it actually happens, people get ideas from sci-fi culture. For now, it will be something of an entertainment, but then it will actually be useful. Same with NFTs. It’s entertainment and speculation right now. But people who collect NFTs and Metaverse land will be rich in the future.
Do you think the Internet is going to become more free, or more censored as we move into the future? What do you think about where Web3 is taking us? Who knows, who knows. Freedom is abstract, there is always something that has rules. Maybe right now, NFTs and Metaverse don’t have many rules and it’s still the wild west, but all things need rules to work properly.
What have you got lined up in the near future? I want to make more NFT projects with big collaborators, build my small NFT universe with all of the GMs / small collections, and also reward collectors who hold my work. I don’t have much of a big plan, I’m figuring this out on the go. But, definitely, more music NFTs are coming. I like to adapt to changing trends and stay chill at the same time. I’m not trying to catch them all. Because you know what’s important? Staying here and now.
Gamer Masters Lucid Dreaming. THIS Is What He Did With It BY DELANORE COLE @DREAMPUNKTWEETS
The human brain is an enigma. One such mystery is the
When denied a moderator position at his favorite studio,
center for dreams. No discernible purpose for dreaming has
Botanical Lord began learning lucid dreaming so he could
ever been proven, there have been theories, but that hasn’t
influence gameplay in the fashion he deemed. Some of these
stopped the people of this Earth from enacting their will upon
tactics include analyzing dream signs and leveling up the
the world inside their heads. Enter lucid dreaming.
MILD technique. “If I can’t be an admin at Blizzard, I’ll just run the show in my dreams. Who is going to stop me? The devs scoff at e-types like me
One gamer, by the screen name of “Botanical Lord”,
and my big ideas with the in-game economy.
has done just that. His day to day is filled with farming boss
I’m not a degen or
runs in Diablo II: Resurrected, Final Fantasy XIV Online, and
anything. I’m just a
other massive multiplayer online video games. His nights also
kid with a dream.”
consist of that. This man has achieved the impossible, wistfully controlling his dream space like an almighty hacker dictator, allowing him to play an additional eight hours at night. The
When asked about the
features of his so-called “night mode” include the ability to
material value of his
spawn uncommon mobs and alter drop rates, of which he can
use to equip his alts.
Botanical Lord had this
to say: With some monetary assistance from his parents and a
knack for upselling hats on TF2, he makes an alright living.
Unfortunately, the squalor of his dorm was quite apparent
during my interview with him. Aside from the neat stack of
exotic weapons in
fifty identical Freddy Fazbear Funko Pops in the corner of
Destiny 2 out of
the room (that he set up a bot to scalp online), rubbish piled
my dream server,
up everywhere. I questioned his living conditions, which
but DC Evo will be
triggered a fervent response.
the first to know
“I’m clean And and
inventory, besides… my
worried thank Life’s
very online. timers
much. Me for
bunch of bosses and we can’t lose them.” Mr. Lord then proceeded to queue up the next raid. “Ok, give me a minute.”
how. Oh and hey. Do
buy a Funko Pop?”
INTERVIEW REMEMBER @REMEMBER4802
Welcome to EVOLVE Magazine, Remember! How’re things going? Hey tha nk yo u fo r t he o p po r t u ni ty t o be in the ma ga z ine ! I ’m a bi g be li eve r i n ma ga z i nes as a sourc e o f e nte r t a i n me n t a nd k now l ed ge, so I’m honoured to be i nvo lved . H ow a m I ? I m u st admit I’m doing fa ir ly we ll . O u t si de o f m u si c I ’ve changed jobs from one ind u st ry t o a no t he r a nd t ha t’s going pretty good . M usi ca lly, I ’ve j u st fi ni s hed a n album for P ure Life, so I’m i n t ha t li m bo poi n t w he re any mu sic idea is just t ha t , a n i dea . I t’s t he f u n par t, w he re expe rime n t a ti o n t a kes ho l d a nd yo u r inner brain g uides yo u t o w he re yo u wa n t t o go next. S o yea h, ove ra ll a ll i s we ll .
The world spirals further and further out of control each day Are you managing to survive out there? S ome times it’s ha rd t o t e ll w he t he r t he wo rld we live in is a c tua lly rea li ty . Eve ryday i t see m s the wor l d we live in beco mes mo re a nd mo re a bsurd. Avoid ing it c om p l e t e ly i s i m possi b l e, b u t I’m find ing l eaving t he ho u se, re gu l a r b rea ks from soc ia l med ia, ex p l o ri n g new a rt , med i t a ti on and spend ing time wi t h l oved o nes a re my general go-tos . I t’s a ll t oo ea sy t o ge t s u cked i n t o the nega tivity a nd downwa rd s pi ra l o f o u r everyday exi ste nc e, a nd I’m ext re me ly gu i lty o f t hat. It does n’t he l p that t he wo r l d i s desi gned t o feed into tha t. All o u r soci a l med i a, t he news, T V, You tube e tc p um p o u t ne ga tivi ty beca u se we are na tura lly a ttra c ted t o i t , w hi ch mea n s mo ney . You also bec o me d isco n nect ed fro m yo u rse lf when you e nga ge with t ha t st u ff t oo, a s d i sco n necting c an be a quic k c o pi n g mecha ni s m . H oweve r, in the long te r m , fuc kin g a ll t ha t s hi t o ff a nd l ooking inwa rd s is the way t o s u rvive . To ge t i n t o u ch with how you’re a c tua lly t hi n ki n g a nd o bse rvi n g what is f l owing through yo u i s key .
Are you still a Buddhist? To call myself a full on budd hist would probably be a little disingenuous. Back in the summer of 2 0 2 0, I didn’t even really know what budd hi sm was. I knew it existed, I knew it was a reli gi on etc. But I honestly had no idea of its origin s, and what the key ideas were. Moving into the au tu mn of 2 0 2 0 I had a very intense mental breakdown , which really threw my head down a dar k plac e, making me question the reasoning of my own existence, and not in a positive way . T hi s pi t I was in com pletely changed my brain chemi stry, some of which stays with me now, such as not eating meat any more. One of the less per manen t changes that happened was I couldn’t listen to m usic. I would put my headphones on, pu t on some m usic and it would make me feel physi c ally sick. T his only lasted a couple of months. In the m usic’s place, I star ted listening to podc asts pretty heavily, one of which was ‘ Philosophi ze T his! ’ by Stephen West. T here was an episode of Budd hism , and I felt a real connection to the i deas that they present and uphold. I ended up doi n g more research into Budd hism and it has ho nestly changed my life. If I had to be accurate with what I call myself, it would probably be a ‘ Sec u lar Budd hist. I only say that because I’m not f u lly i n belief of some of the concepts, such as rebi rth etc. However, what the D har m ma actually teac hes, and it’s relation to not only my way of loo ki n g at the wor ld, but also com pletely changes my vi ews on things like anxiety and depression. Med i tati on has become an everyday action for me sinc e thi s time. Even just over a year on I still feel li ke a beginner, and in a way I hope that never chan ges, and it always feels fresh and that I have a lot to lear n about myself, and the wor ld around me. I also now keep a Budd ha in almost every room i n the house, I have 3 in my studio for exam ple. I u se them as a reminder of life in general, and how to travel throug h it. T here are things we can do to help reduce suffering for ourselves and the world around us, the Budd ha sy m bolises this for me.
An EVOLVE team member wants to know: Why green?
What do you think will have the biggest impact on the future?
I think by 2 01 8 I wa s cl ose t o ki lli n g o ff the Reme mbe r p roject . I fe lt t ha t t he na r ra tive I had in my hea d ha d bee n execu t ed , a nd t he re was now he re e l se to go wi t h i t . D rea m p u n k a s a ter m and a s a n idea ha d n ’t rea lly bee n so li d i fi ed , and the sc e ne wa s n’t a s pe n ned t o pa pe r so t o speak. In tha t sa me year, I ha d a p re t ty i n t e n se b reakup afte r a nea r 8 yea r l o n g re l a ti o n s hi p . I was a wrec k, a nd m usic beca me a n o u t l e t , a s i t u sually is i n times of upse t . The m u si c fe lt li ke a removal from the Re me m be r p roj ect , b u t a t t he sa me time, I wa s expe rie nc in g w ha t I ha d bee n wri ti n g m usic abo ut fo r the 3 yea rs p ri o r . I n a wei rd way, the Reme mbe r na r rative ha d ma ni fest ed i t se lf into the rea l wor l d . I wa n t ed t o de fi ne t hi s new idea/ sound / c o nc e p t/ na rra tive . B lu es , red s , a nd p ur ples we re a ve ry kee n co l o u r se t fo r o u r m u si c t o that point, o f c o urse l a r ge ly i n s pi red by a ro mantic view o f cy be r p un k i dea s . I wa n t ed t o esse ntially stic k two finge rs u p a t t ha t , a nd rea lly de fine a bold ide ntity away fro m a ll o f t ha t . T ha t’s where the gree n c omes i n . I t’s f u n ny beca u se green is far from my favo u ri t e co l o u r, a nd I wo u l d say it is p roba b ly p ur p l e . B u t I j u st wa n t ed so mething bold , to sta nd o u t vi s ua lly, b u t t o a l so have it stand out m usic a lly .
Althoug h I’m no exper t on the ter m , and all of the projects and ideas that it emcom passes, I thi n k web3 is going to have the biggest im pact for all of us. Web2 is clear ly on it’s way out, wit h web3 fixing all its shor tcomings and providin g new avenues for anyone who uses the inter net. A li ne from the track T he D ead F lag Blues by God speed You Black Em peror comes to mind: “We’re trapped in the belly of this hor rible machine And the machine is bleeding to death” - Web2 surrou nds us, and we are all in it, and it’s on its last legs. With the announcement of Metaverse, you c an see the web2 powers at be are holding onto any last rem nants of grip they have on us, trying to keep us all tied into their wor ld, sucking you in so you can’t leave. In the long r un however, with mo re and more web3 technologies and philosophies taki n g shape, web2 models won’t be sustainable. It on ly takes a power ful and solid web3 replacemen t of web2 technology to push them out of their prams. Of course the obvious exam ples are NF Ts. Ri gh t now for creatives, they are an incredible u se of blockchain technology . T he NF T mar ketplac e hi c et nunc recently closed down, which had it been a web2 sty le website like Bandcam p, would have been a disaster . But since it’s not, it ulti mately means nothing . Your ar t, and your collec ti on of boug ht ar t never went anywhere. You can j u st go to another website, link your wallet, and all is well. T his com pletely subver ts the web2 model, and it will change every thing, it’s just a matter of time and adoption.
“ W e ’re t ra pp e d in t h e b e lly of this ho r r ib l e mac h i ne And t he mac h in e is b l e e di ng to d e ath” What is the purpose of holding spiritual beliefs in a vapid, materialist world? Bein g s pi ri tua l mea n s so me t hin g c o m pl e t e ly di fferent from person to person. Am I spi ri tual? I t’s honestly hard to say . I thin k bein g s pirit ua l u ltima tely mea ns looki ng for mea ni ng wi thi n yourself, whi ch then ma ni fests i n ma ny diffe re n t ways , w hic h is why you have so many reli gi ous pra cti ces across the worl d . I f eve ryo ne wa s s pirit ua l in t he sa me way, or looked a t the wor ld i n the same way, we would all b e one re li gi o n , o r no religio n a t a ll . S o in t ha t re ga rd, I thi nk looki ng i nwards i s very i mpor tant for the worl d we live i n . How tha t ma nifest s is no t u p t o you, a nd nor should you fi ght i t, unless i t’s goi ng to do more bad tha n go o d of c o u rse . B u t I t hin k it’s key to be i n touch wi th yourself, as you a re your only p urp ose at the e nd o f the day .
A short story by Roma
Coffee stains fell paintly across an old rug unmoved, untethered time wound across these fingers failing. Little Michelangelo in the corner. Calluses lost. This or that way left open an amusing disaster in the sky, holding nothing in, old shouts of God, imperfect remembrance of those whispers, all the same. In dreams, suffocating against the dull ageless indifference, didn’t feel a thing, anymore, once more no more, I’m breathing. --By now it had been a long time that the light in his eyes held themselves to the burning of the eyelids that indicated one had either just returned from or needed sleep, although there wasn’t anything resembling enough when it concerned these sojourns into unconsciousness. The beginnings of the tremble in his hands, and in his heart, when looking at any of life in its face, was impossible to find. All music had collapsed into unbearable disharmony, his wife’s laughter had vanished any trace of charm, now sounding off as useless chimes to accompany what tired conversations he was unable to avoid. Often the man made habits, and stuck to them, with great failure, instead of failing, in delusion, any goal, for they were now all unreachable. Nothing had happened to make him this way, other than time. Malaise, amnesia, any small portion of food left him with the feeling of gluttony. He preferred to stand upon a hill, to look down at the city, and think of all the terrors that he had no participation in — he willed towards an absence which he prided himself as virtue, misidentifying the world as consumed by sin, he suffered, and others suffered him. He lacked any true courage which would allow him either to live or die, and in his living and undying, he was unable to have any true regret, for there was always a new day, an opportunity, in every moment, to correct his course, to shine radiantly upon the face of the sun on Earth, and to transform the suffering of his soul into a grace that could breathe its pollen onto the dirt of his life, thereby, slowly, with care and songs, nourishing the worldsoul he longingly felt exorcised from. Every moment his sails fell silent against this divine wind, which would take him from the harbor of mediocrity, and would fly him as a shining instrument of the seraphim across the distant shores of time, onto Heaven, was an eternal scream which marred his face, and in the mirrors of his reaction to himself, he fell into a selfloathing which was to not be recovered from.
He fell, silently and cowardly, into the depths of unbecoming, for he was unwinding a golden spool which once held tomorrow upon itself, and in its silky failings he was nothing, wanted nothing, except for an absence of anything anymore, because the terror of his own responsibility wounded him into an ugly disrepair he felt he could no longer bear witness to. --We often laud forgiving temperaments in others when they deal with antagonistic forces in their life, lacking such a thing in ourselves, and even more often forget entirely the supreme difficulty of forgiving those we love, even with all our heart. The communal heartland and her forests that we desire growth for, in our passion for seeing beautiful and fortuitous things exist past their current bounds, we sometimes instead see in its face a meek phrase of decay, often in little expressions first, before great fires or floods, the wilting of leaves or unease in animals, and for us and our relationships, the existential fear of seeing absence where there once was love — the negligent hand devastates us at first more gravely than the harmful one. This alarms our spiritual sensibilities greater than an absolute death that shivers through foreign regions, if only because we need no bravery to leave it, and need an otherworldly vitality to inform the salient hands our homes are in timely need of, whether they work at restoration or nourishment. This first devastation came as a silent goodbye on an uneventful winter morning, for the evermore withered man who was yet to suffer a million more silences. The man’s depression, as it has been called in recent times, felt to him more like the company of demons. The days were too many where his spirit woke up before his body did, and the tenants of his mind lived for a few moments in his room while he lay there paralyzed in fear, seeing sadism rise out of his ethereal dreaming in the faces which now taunted him with a precision and depth that aimed so true to his heart that he began to wonder now if these demons used this vulnerable moment as a gate from some other world, or if they existed in him at all times, at which point he then began to wonder if they were him.
Beginning the day in such unspeakable horror, he extended this beginning with paranoia. In the face of his wife, when holding food for him with a smile, he carefully looked at the lines of her face for tension, and in her eyes, what exactly she knew of him, and what was in this food, and why she seemed so keen on delivering it to him. At moments like this he would shut down and assume a mask lacking all personality so as to armor himself somewhat from any more attacks that were oriented to his soul, not thinking there was much he could continue to bear. He was aware of how this strangeness would be perceived, and yet he continued on with it, as one does when they panic during a drowning, often doing exactly that which would further the will to death, no matter what logic one might have in more sober moments about the right things one could do to save themselves. His wife, understandably, could only hold out a finite passing of seasons, seeing in her husband an unexpected death that she felt relieved her from the marital vows they swore a decade and a half ago. The husband, who had been becoming more and more insular, paranoid, and unreachable to his love, had not noticed her assenting withdrawal, which happened, first, in the fall of last year, and was to finally finish in the winter of the next. The day that she would leave had come, and it took half a week after this leaving to recognize that something had happened at all. Not thinking of where she was, or of the dog that might be needing to be fed, or the uncaring stench of its excrement which too passed into his senses and evaded acknowledgement, he could have continued on for some time in this mindless leisure of undoing oneself until, by some hapless accident of the return of an old habit, he looked at the bed, seeing folds and folds, a naive disorder of the place he slept. This sudden cognizance of uncleanliness struck him more than the fact it had been many days since he saw her lurid smile, felt the bearing of her small weight an uncrossable few feet behind his back, as he slept facing away, towards the window, to which he now looked out of and saw no car. That his wife had left him passed through him like a cold wind. He walked downstairs, grabbed the dog by its collar, and pushed it through an open door. Shutting it, he went back to the bed and its messy sheets and tried to fall asleep without closing his eyes entirely, fearing that if he did some taunting devil might laugh at him for the wickedness of his absence. Sometimes a man speaks his own prognosis. The fates defer to his judgement, and yield their loom momentarily to his prophesying, no matter that reason tells us this is an impossibility, given how dimly lit his path lies, and that he has never stepped beyond where he stands now.
This indifference was soon to be replaced by a rage that wasn’t his. The house, which had been paid off by his former wife’s inheritance two decades ago, was his he decided, having never received any letters requesting him to evacuate the premises. He felt an illness travel into him at the sight of the furniture his wife and he had once sat on, talking of their day, of music or of the food which they used to cook together. He arranged for all furniture to be removed, and upon coming back to a bare house felt a deep satisfaction at having purged this enclosure of all that bothered him. Leaving only the bed, the building became a place for sleep, and nothing more. Tiring of sleep, he began leaving the grounds without any plans. He would go on long, meandering walks and would feel a stir of resentment whenever he felt eyes on him. His hair had gotten long, not getting it cut because of the winter cold at first, and then as fall came around again, because he had lost any reason for doing anything. His wardrobe vanished all color, and in his walking anyone who looked saw an unambiguously tired old man whose eyes passed through them, looking at some distant past or future. Feeling what he felt no more, for no good reason that he could find, he met one gaze. Looking up the hillish heights at a familiar figure, he saw a former best friend, in fact the man who introduced him to his former wife, who had gone from his life long ago, during the time he became a deadened and diseased tree — seeing his regularly narrow eyes wide open, as a prey does when looking out for a predator, shocked him, for he heard in this a resonant fall of time across them both, a measured sound of their own unwavering mortality recognized in this moment. You have changed, and so have you. Shame introduced itself back into the man’s psyche without a word ever being said, although much traveled across such an unlikely bridge. A stick had fallen from the dam underneath this singular bridge, and as happens in any foundational lapse, many more were to come in the following days, betraying stoicism for a violent turbulence of emotion, until the water would rush freely once more, and forevermore, up and onto the new shallow shores, and over his world there would be no disconnection that would require any such bridge, having returned to a unity. Transference would live in itself and all that was felt was felt by all.
His own uncertainty began to cast out sticks with an urgency that, although unneeded for the task of undoing what ought never to have been done in the first place, resulted in a dissolution of hopelessness that clung to him as a sickness does in its prime, telling him that things would get worse before they would get better, but finding that there was a better for him more uprooting than the discomfort, because as any prone to anxiousness, the recognition of a flight needed for a trip induced fear, a pathology for pathlessness, more than any flying itself, assuaged simply by a meager smile from a stewardess, or even by the community of discomfort that held all passengers through the hell of tedium within travel. So the man who had willed himself blind changed into a man who saw volatility behind any door, around any corner, beneath any word delivered to him wrongly, feeling underneath messages the weight of some judgement which he, the man, would not be persuaded by, believing in himself with a gravity taught by the joy of finding a planet after years in the empty black of space, having no one, no sound, nothing but nothingness itself to orient him. And like the sickness which wounded him (but like all wounds of a physical nature, one that taught him the grace necessary to avoid its likeness again, remembering pain, the fucking pain and misery of lying there with no medicine but time, an alleged opportunity of waiting that invited in its absence of action retrospection, why, oh why me, is it really I, I who have done so little, what could have I done to deserve this message screaming louder and longer than what is necessary to hear — DO SOMETHING), the man clung even harsher at the heights of his myopia, becoming venomous and hoping, yes, hoping, for a rejection of medicine, because the fear of living in the darkness once more, having left his last planet, to embrace that uncertainty again, filled him with so much fear, near to the point of true paralysis — death — that he would have made a bargain for the dead cat’s bounce of a planet which had turned on him in his abuse of it, and was casting him out, for his own good, with the cold vulgarity of kicking him the fuck out of a potential sovereignty under an empyrean, endless sun. Such a dream was dead. By some mysterious force of will, the man was, without sympathy, evicted from his convictions, for his own good and for the greater good. The Fates would have their last and final say just yet, in a tongue which eluded his own, and in this deception came a new form which he in his unrestrained hubris — being a man, after all — had failed to apprehend. Time was swift and just. ---
The sticks began to fall quicker and with more joy, as the timeless smile of the water promised invitations of seraphim with beautiful eyes of amber looking into his future, telling him nothing but sharing everything with a look. The man woke up with enough time for a walk to the local park so as to lay underneath the solar noon. His skin told him that the sun was good, as he left his place of misery in growing dosages, exposing a pale white carefully until he reached a bronze needing no chemicals to be slathered on time after time. He felt that when he was in the sun for extended periods of time, a vitality returned to him, and the distance between him and the other beings of the sun began to crumble and dissipate into a wind that came from the northern mountains. His diet of scotch and sugar too he began to wean himself off of, each competing in an unholy collusion designed for restraint. Morning hangovers gave way to eagerness for wholeness, and the social merriment of his youth returned to him with a different source for its vitality. The man beginning to bronze underneath the solar noon was listening to the spring grass breathe a whisper into his ears, soft as laughter, and he too inhaled and exhaled deeply, thinking of all the organisms living in this hierarchy of ecosystems which he was a humble, but not insignificant, part of. The man stood up and looked across the park, seeing the trees move, its leaves happily swaying new, not remaining steady out of spite for the next winter quite yet, and he heard the birds sing to each other, some squirrels ran for each other up and around the spirals of trees, playing. Groups of people, some young and some old, some in love and some lonely, were enjoying the day. He saw a family some distance from him in the same section of the park, consisting of a couple and a daughter, and a young dog on a leash weakly held by the daughter, who was very astutely observing a lack of food in her stomach, and was preoccupied with telling her parents about such a state of affairs. The puppy was running around with a reverence of love and curiosity, in love with loving, and looked across the distance to a man looking at him. With a youthful explosion the puppy took off across the grass towards the man. And he felt, then, looking the puppy in its eyes as it bounded towards him carrying a useless leash over dew not yet vanished, as if his body’s relation to itself had all moved a small yet significant distance apart, and wondered of death, not as an ending, but as liberation, when, with a smile and unseen tears in his eyes, the light of the sun bled outwards, he could see clearly now, in rays of silk across unblemished skies, over him and this moment;
his soul promised to leave this body just as water does a net, in a climactic rush across this land which held in her palm such different beings as the puppy and this man, who both ignobly and unexpectedly found in each other a form of unity which, in his shame, a feeling that now suddenly overwhelmed the beauty of this unity, this man had denied, seeing the passerby’s of life as a wind past a window shut, so as to keep the warm rustle and its irritants out of his eyes, out of his hair, so he could flee from today, and from life which persists despite any meek rebellion, whether warred internally or on lands distant, for a moment or for eternity, for even in the complete darkness of tomorrow there is a memory of the light of yesterday, who’s occurrence at all plays as neither overture or finale, but as a signifier of absolute timelessness — the doors of the windows were forced open with a strong gust of wind that slammed them against the wall, stirring up dust, and in through this open window peered the blue eye of God, suspending each dust mote in mid-air, each and every one seen absolutely. The daughter let out a scream and the man was so changed at this point that he did not immediately find barbarism in her yawp, where he once would have. He watched her run after the dog with a huff so as to display the importance of her authority over the leash and the dog to all those who would amusingly look on. The dog was caught in her weak little arms and kicked happily on his back and with a wet kiss let himself be held by the girl, who victoriously carried the dog back to his homely bounds. --The man felt awakened to a yearning for community once more, and he yearned for the love of belonging that he now remembered with an ache. When people begin wishing for great change, they often wish it with the spiritual panic that comes from standing in place for too long — when such a change comes, those same people are often surprised that this change was not a good one. He felt encouraged by the positivity of that day, and that small moment with the dog, that he thought to extend it. He wanted a pet of his own. Something besides himself to care for, to love. After a few days of deliberation, he went down to a local shelter to see through the cages of impoverished animals waiting for death or safety. The employee in her black polo and disaffected tone showed him to the cages, and let him look, to see if any caught his interest. The dogs were yipping and howling in their small enclosures, some very old and wounded, presumably from abuse or street fights, with such names on their cages like Rex, Hunter, Roosevelt. What caught the man’s attention was a presumptuously named black cat with white socked paws, called Michelangelo.
It was quite young, with greyish blue eyes, and a handsome and intelligent look. He felt drawn to its beauty, and to the intelligence of its gaze. This was the cat he took home, for just north of $100. He stopped at the local pet store for food and litter, and some toys for it to play with. When he brought it home, he set it down on the hardwood floor in the empty living room and let it explore its new surroundings. He set the litter in the corner by the sliding doors and sat down in the middle of the room with some toys. The cat had his head low and was looking around, not moving much. The man took one toy, a small, chewy sort of thing with a tinny noise emanating from the center and waved it at the cat, keeping its attention now with this noise, and this felt object in between his thumb and forefinger, moving back and forth. The cat snuck up on the inanimate object and betrayed it from his grip with a precise swipe of a white paw, and battered it to death on the floor, and then he bit into it with a fang. Now bored of the toy, and close to the man who was sitting still on the floor and watching him, he looked in his face, and saw a steadiness in his eyes. The cat found this trustworthy and made this known to the man, who was now outstretching his hand carefully, with a bunt of the head against the knee. The man felt happy with the day, set out some food for Michelangelo, and left him to become more familiar with his new home. Over the coming weeks they developed a knowingness of each other and their quirks, and the man began to furnish the house again, some for the cat and some for himself, because now that he had a reason to be home for more than sleep, he realized that he would like somewhere besides the floor to sit. Couches and chairs and tables came back, and he began reading again, with little Michelangelo pressed against his leg often, purring, as he made his way through novels from the early 1900s, finding new things in them, though what he was reading he had already read long ago in his youth, and the words had not changed. --The man set out at around 5pm for groceries — as he was cooking at home again too — and in his newly habitual looking forwardness, found the comfort of his walk shattered when he looked upon the face of his ex-wife who was sitting on the patio of a cafe alone, with her head down in a book. He saw her fingers clean of jewelry and nail polish turning the pages of a thin copy of Endgame, with a lump in his throat realizing it was the copy he had bought and had been reading during the time of his life when he had first met her. He began thinking of how long it had been since he’d seen her. Two and half, no, three years, it had been, as he counted the seasons and the electoral cycle that had changed the presidency, all during which he had not laid eyes upon her.
With a ravenous and instantaneous stare he took in all the differences he could see, with her head still down in the book: a shorter hairstyle, no longer down past her shoulders, but stopping at them; the colors of her clothes earthy, moving away from her tendency to be in dark colors; a smart watch versus an old soviet pilot model that she expressed fondness for, and which he had noted so he could surprise her with one on her first birthday that they would share together; cream in her coffee, no more black. Fear leapt into his heart and he immediately turned around and walked swiftly home. Part of him wished she had looked up, but a greater part of him felt perversely saved from the shame of her reproach, though justified it would have been for the years of hell he had put her through, no matter the seemingly endless love they had enjoyed during their twenties. He got home, saw Michelangelo, and felt annoyed at the question in his eyes. He went for a glass of scotch and kept the bottle out. --The man was a few glasses in at this point, the sun was down, and he was playing music so something would exist in the air besides the overbearing presence of his remembrance, and all the hatred that came with it. The euphoria of drunkenness that was coming down on his empty stomach was beginning to resemble unease instead of weightlessness. J.S. Bach’s WellTempered Clavier was playing, interpreted by he didn’t know who. The notes were ringing out aimlessly he felt, building and building something which struck terror in him and he didn’t know why. So, he changed it, wanting to purify his drunkenness and the air. He settled on a Rachmaninoff, Rhapsody On A Theme Of Paganini, Op. 43: Variation 18. The familiar tones flooded the room with warmth, the right hand responding graciously to the movement of the lower. He felt weightless and looked at Michelangelo who was watching his fussy movements with some caution, and the man, draining another glass and now grabbing just for the bottle, looked at the little black cat with the white paws and laughed at his concern as the strings carried him into elation. For it was music weeping louder than him, and he went silent in admiration for how it said things. He was deeply moved by the string section’s cessation to the horn’s company, and he suddenly collapsed into tears at the loneliness of the piano’s wordless polyphony. The emotionless stare of the cat made him laugh again, and he set to finishing the bottle as the shuffled playlist went through memories of what he used to love. As he finished the burning scotch the little cat purred next to his leg, letting the man weep and be moved by his time and music. The two eventually fell asleep together on the bed, with the man holding the cat lovingly, holding onto the only thing he felt he had not wronged in this world, undeserving of its love.
Sunlight burned through the room and onto the man who fitfully awoke to a brutal hangover. Without a second thought he nauseatingly ran to the toilet, and held himself there, heaving out impurity from his body. He had not been that drunk in a long time, and was reminded of why he had stopped drinking so heavily. An hour of this went by until he felt he was finished, and he returned to the bed to sleep the hangover away. He went into the room and threw the comforter open and saw Michelangelo’s body limp, laying there with a slack jaw and empty eyes with lids half open, contorted in a strange shape. The cat had been dead for six hours, suffocating at some point in the night, suffering uselessly against the unawakenable mass that was crushing the breath out of him. He had been sufficiently drunk enough to not feel a thing, and he had not even remembered falling asleep. --After surviving a month of suicidality — finding himself a coward just as he was ready to put a bag over his head and flood it with helium so as to kill himself without panic through inert gas asphyxiation — he returned to a prolonged lifelessness that was to last just as long as his return to life had. The man began to put up walls again, and convinced himself of the futile ends of any flood. He felt himself a worse than useless being. His self-loathing returned when he realized he felt sorry for himself during the task of burying the dead cat’s body, which he did in the middle of that night, drunk again. He went out to the forest carrying Michelangelo in a shoe box, trying not to feel his weight. When he left the once again empty home for booze or food, he saw the world differently yet again, after his revelation of God had been proven to be a false path towards self-service. Couples walking down the road holding hands were naive fools, barely restrained agents of chaos, filling public spaces with the vulgarity of their ignorance, impressing upon everyone else a performance of narcissistic vanity. The beauty of being beautiful, the privileged ones worthy of love. He unwound himself in a shadow of the world and lusted after the disaster of the formless string before him. He developed his alcoholism proficiently as time went on, so it held a large enough position in his life to orient his time around, and one that would slowly kill him while relieving the cognizance of his own cowardice to either live or die for moments, a succession of which he would follow bitterly, seeing no narrative beyond a meaningless linking of actions and behaviors. He eventually drank himself free even of the booze, finding that to also be among the mess of futile doings.
Somewhere in this hazy timelessness his ex-wife reached out to him via a short email, which was a cautiously worded indication of interest in how he was doing, which eventually opened up after a small back and forth of regrets and sorrows finally aired between the two of them. The woman suggested coffee sometime, and the man said no by saying yes, sure!, with a promise to check the schedule, which was empty. The man said he was having a busy quarter at his company that he did not have and that they would get together sometime soon. He went back to forgetting her existence and there were no emails after this point. He was walking to the grocery store a few years after that shameful night, and past that coffee shop where he once saw his ex-wife reading a book he gave her. Something deep in him thought to reach out again, but this was deflected as a reactionary impulse, and was too forgotten about. He was walking to the grocery store a few years after that shameful night, and past that coffee shop where he once saw his ex-wife reading a book he gave her. Something deep in him thought to reach out again, but this was deflected as a reactionary impulse, and was too forgotten about. Once he returned home, he checked his email and received word that his once best friend, the man he had seen on the hill who shocked him so much, and had shamefully walked by without a word, after his unfeeling distance following a decade shared together, had just died three months following the discovery of stage four lung cancer within him. The funeral was a week from today, and the man arranged a flight to the eastern coast state in which the funeral was to be held. --The funeral was attended by forty or so people. His wife and two boys, colleagues, some high school friends, and some from college, which included the man, who stood there now in a black suit. A pastor read out Romans 8:35, 37-39 to an emotional crowd and but the man was blankly staring at the solid oak casket and thinking of the weight of it sitting above ground, deaf to the pastor’s voice. The pastor finished his speech, and the crowd watched on as the casket was lowered into the ground and dirt was put over it.
She saw a man she still loved grieving in silence, and she had gone over to him, intending a hug. After a warm embrace, ever warmer for the cold day, she looked with wet eyes at the man and said to him, ‘How are you doing, John?’ And under this sentence hung her voice, and nothing existed in it but sorrow and love and forgiveness. John felt this, and sensing himself near to tears, said he was doing well, and thanked her for asking, seeing on her hand as she drew it back a silver ring with diamonds encircling a larger one in the middle. He excused himself from her knowing look and returned to his home after a restless flight. Upon landing he went to the park to sit under the dark trees. He sat there for a long while, until some birds began to sing songs to each other, whistling the sky blue and moreso by the minute. Still restless, he began to walk, and long he walked. He came upon a forest and still in his suit went in and through the autumn trees. Eventually he came upon a wide river, and he slipped down to the shore, hearing his name called by something. He reached down to pick up a stone, thinking to skip it across the river, but stopped, because he heard something new in the water. The rushing sound intermixed in with the wind of the trees, and he sat down and listened closer. An all-being Om spoke through many voices to him, he heard it in all the motions of the world. John saw no stillness in the river, and turned to feel the breaking of the sun through the leaves above him on his face as morning came. He let out a breath and this encompassing hum of the world went silent as he did. Having no one to share the moment with, he closed his eyes, and felt a judicial bearing over him to open them again, and to look at the river, which he did. It turned over itself and formlessly broke and began anew a million times, and across to the other shore, he saw a whitetail buck just through the trees watching him. They looked at each other for a short while, and then the animal suddenly vanished into the forest behind him.
He felt he had paid his respects and went to leave as a hand calmed his shoulders — his ex-wife had been watching him from a hidden place amongst the mourning, unsure if she should say anything.
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INTERVIEW YOSHIMI @YH_Music Yoshimi has been a musical sensei for over four decades. Now the wise sage comes out of hiding, and reveals all... Welcome to EVOLVE Magazine, Yoshimi! What’s the latest with you? Tha nk yo u fo r havi n g me o n yo u r ma ga zine. I c an say tha t life i n J a pa n i s s l ow ly ge t ti n g back to no r ma l ( for now ) . Rece n t ly, I have ha d more oppo r tunities to go o u t si de a nd mee t some frie nd s I have n’t see n i n a w hi l e . I ’m a l so wo r king on a few a l b um s t ha t I ’m ho pi n g t o re l ea se next yea r a round s p rin g .
You are somewhat of an enigma within the Dreampunk scene. What is a day in the life of Yoshimi like, or would you rather remain elusive? I do n’t think of myse lf a s “e ni gma ti c, ” b u t that may be bec a use I do n ’t ex p ress t oo m u ch o n soc ia l med ia . 5 yea rs a go, I moved t o a s ubur b of Tokyo a nd that ha s ma de my li fe ve ry si m ple. It’s a ty pic a l - ty pe s u b u rba n t own st r u ctured with a big s ho p pi n g ma ll j u st besi de t he station. Eve ry thing I need i s wi t hi n wa l ki n g d i stance. I have a lways wo r ked fro m ho me fo r d i fferent businesses a s a free l a nce r, a nd t hi s i s eve n easier seeing tha t I do n ’t have t o t a ke a ny so r t o f p ublic tra ns por ta tion. I u sed t o vi si t To kyo, b u t haven’t ha d the o p por tuni ty t o do so si nce the pa nde mic . I have mo re ti me t o st ay a t home, but othe r tha n tha t , my li fe d i d no t cha n ge a lot. I try to ma ke m u si c da i ly, eve n i f i t i s j ust for 30 minutes on a b u sy day .
There is definitely a spiritual aspect to your work, but to what extent? You seem to be very fascinated with ghosts, esoterica and the mythology of the past. How does this influence you? My interest in history and ancient things stems from child hood. I think it star ting durin g my sum mer vacation visiting the r uins of so u thern France and Rome, when I was 8 or 9 years old. Si nc e then, I have had this tendency to read books abou t history, my thology and archaeology . In my mi d 2 0 s, my interests expanded to include ling u i sti c s, esoterica and psychology . T hese interests di d not influence my ear lier body of wor k, but started to wor k their way into my m usical com positions some time around 2 0 13 . I was attracted to dig mo re i n to Japanese history, especially with material on the Jōmon period. I realized that I did not really know about the traditions of Japan’s daily life. They had been for gotten. I also wanted to learn the differences between Japan and the Occi den tal wor ld. I came across some rather signi fi c an t books, which helped me for m a different poi n t of view. T hese interesting books slowly pro mpted me to create m usic in a different way . I have so many of them , but here is a shor t list of some of the im por tant ones: ‘ T he Origin Of C onsciou sness In T he Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind’ by J u li an Jay nes, ‘ Proust and the S quid’ by Maryanne Wolf, ‘ My Stroke oh Insig ht’ by Jill Bolte Tay lor, ‘Don ’t S leep, T here A re S nakes’ by Daniel Everett, ‘L a C ite A ntique’ by D enis Fustel D e C ouranges, as well as many books from the historian Mi rc ea E liade and Japanese ethnologist S hinobu Ori ku c hi . T hese books, especially, influenced me to feel and understand the differences in the mi nds of moder n and archaic people. A rchaic time was not some abstract thing in the past, it was somethi n g very close to us within our reality . T his stran ge sensation was almost like being outside of the ‘A r row of Time’ . I got the feeling that time was not ir reversible and there are less boundari es i n my mind. I star ted making m usic with thi s ‘Ou t of the Time’ mentality from 2 0 13 onward, and some studies / experiments can still be fou nd on my S oundC loud. It helped develop some new approaches and methods in my com positio n , too. T his ty pe of sound is still developing inside me, ‘A s One’ .
In contrast to this, what do you think of our modern-day technological society in this context?
How long have you been involved in making music for? Has music been your full time profession?
The num be r of inve n ti o n s i s i ncrea si n g a t a very fast ra te, sta r ting fro m t he 19 t h ce n t u ry . I f I bor row the c ha r t from A nd re Le roi - G o u r ha n ’s boo k, it is definitive tha t h u ma ni ty ha s bee n a u gme n ted by its inve ntio n since t he p re hi st o ri c ti mes . We live in a wor l d full o f exoso ma ti c me mo ri es & human inve ntions , a nd o ff co u rse I ’m t he o ne t o receive and fully be ne fi t fro m t he m . I ’m a fra i d with all of the tec hno l ogi es we do have, i t ha s given us an illusio n tha t a ll t hi n gs a re now ca l culable. But, a t the sa me ti me, t he s peed a nd vo lu me of evo lutio n is so eno rmo u s , now we ca n no t control any thing . Ca l c ul a b l e wi ll be i nca l cu l a b l e . I don’t have the a nswe r o n i f we wi ll fi nd o u rse lves in an ‘a ugme nted huma n ’ si t ua ti o n o r i f we a re a lready exceeded by ou r ext e n si o n s a nd a u t o matism . Retrogression is no t t he a n swe r, b u t I t hi n k we need to ba l a nc e this e n t ro pi c e ne rgy t ha t s u r rounds us, to no t l ose o u r savoi r fa i re & e mo ti o n s .
I started making music at 16 years old and became more serious with it by age 18, in the mid 80s. When I was 20 years old, making music was already my full time profession and this continued until my 30s. I made a lot of music, from 5 second short jingles to TV commercial films, TV dramas, video games, fashion shows, exhibitions, BGM for museums and more that I don’t remember at all. From around the mid 90s, my work gradually changed direction from music to creating CDROM software, it was the at the beginning of the multimedia craze in Japan. I remember that I started seriously using Apple computer and learning HyperTalk and Lingo for MacroMind. After this transition period, making music for clients became very occasional. Two decades ago, there was a background story that Japan was in the middle of a ‘Bubble Economy’, and taking a step back now, the social situation was a bit crazy during this ‘Bubble’ period. A young person like me, with no experience, had a chance to work with real orchestras (and I mean big budget with a high risk for failure), which is very difficult to happen nowadays. I have to say that I was very lucky. I had maybe 10 intense years of music making for businesses, and it was a very meaningful period with lot of precious experiences in recording studios. The beginning of the 90s was also the end of the Bubble boom, and my transition from music into the multimedia industry helped me survive the economic collapse. Companies were interested to invest on this ‘new wave’ of business, but almost all of the agencies I worked for, while making music, finally disappeared.
You have made 4 albums in the ‘Japanese Ghosts’ series, do you plan to make any further installments in future? The ‘J a pa nese Ghost s ’ se ri es wa s rea li zed for the PYRA M I DS l a be l . I ha d t hi s growi n g i dea, while ma king the ‘ To kyo Rest ri ct ed Area ’ a l b u m, and w he n I saw the PYRAM I DS l a be l co mi n g, I t houg ht that it is pe r fec t fo r i t . T he se ri es e nded wi t h the c losing o f PYRA M I DS . I t i s now li ke a li fe ’s wor k to exp l o re this s peci fi c so u nd , a nd i t always mo tiva tes me to ma ke a s u i t e o f i t . I ’m not sure w he n, b ut J a pa nese G host s V wi ll ce rt a i nly be c oming in the nea r f u t u re .
What are your plans for the future? There i s one thi ng I want as a cha llenge, and it is to bui ld up a live per for mance set (a thi ng I have never done before). I ca nnot say when, b ut I wa nt a try a t i t. To the end, I wa nt to thank all my li steners and labels who suppor ted me d uring thi s di ffi cult ti me.
PASSIVE REFRACTION @PRefraction An Interview quickly derailed by overexcitement.
So, Passive Refraction, what’re you up to lately? So we’re releasing a split album together titled “Cybernetic Apparitions”, a melancholy dreampunk journey conceptualized around VR Psych Therapy. This project has been in the works for sometime now, and will be one of the first of its kind to release on a t-shirt. There will be a digital release of the baseline album with Hollow Point One, but the entire project will be accessible through a t-shirt sold externally. To explain the t-shirt album simply though, It will be a full color designed longsleeve with a QR code printed to it. This QR code is the access pass to a webpage that houses the original digital album along with things like Unreleased material, Early Drafts of songs, Stems for people to make their own remixes , Cassette and CD inlays ready to print, cut, and fold (for those who would like to make a tape or CD for themselves), and More. We still wanted to give everyone access to the main album, but the t-shirt will be what accesses the entire project and will serve as the full experience. With this album we wanted to create a tangible product in relation to music that serves as more than just a pretty visual piece that eventually ends up either resold or in the plastic landfill, a way to move away for awhile from what’s sadly becoming an over saturated market with tied up pressing plants. We wanted to create an experience that can provide a further service than just listening to a compositional work or looking at its cover art, and we figured clothing is an essential life item so using that medium to release an album only made sense. People buy band tees of their favorite album covers anyways right? Why not expand upon that concept a little, and add accessible content to it in the process? Anyways we hope you enjoy the project because we’re excited to share it with you all. Cybernetic Apparitions will be available digitally and physically sooner than you think so ... “Keep those eyes open” -Passive Refraction x Moody Bats - (This shirt was a test press made to test concept, we are playing with different color variants, designs, and materials so there might be a few changes/ choices at the end of it, but this is the prototype; spoiler warning for anyone who wanted a sneak peek this QR code isn’t linked to the album webpage ) to sum it up the standard baseline album will be released digitally. Hollow Point One had asked to house it so we might do that. They don’t do physical Merch but I have access to a custom dtg printer, decal printing etc so I can make some super customized shirts and plan on doing that. The shirts I guess at that point would be sold from our own page, still working out that logistic but shouldn’t be too complicated. Anyways moving back to the shirt album itself. The digital album would be easily available, but the tshirt would take you to a semi hidden webpage. I intend on making the website nearly impossible to find but on the off chance people DO find it there’s no worry really, by using a dynamic QR code I can change the url location easily so if people flood the link I could in theory turn that link dead and reroute (or it could be fun to let it just naturally leak online as well). Everyone’s so fixated on cassettes, and vinyls, and even CD’s when it comes down to it. T-Shirt albums on the other hand though provide a basic human necessity... clothing. It’s not wasting money on a piece of plastic that will collect dust and see the tape deck once (if you even own one)... It’s buying something that you essentially need one way or the other... it just happens to give you access to music. You know I’ve seen people refuse to buy an album they “loved” because it didn’t have the record sleeve or it wasn’t a proper colour and that really upsets me knowing just how much hard effort and time artists put into their craft of making these great fantasies in their mind ya know? At the end of the day we want artists to
Hold your fuckin’ horses, kid! Jesus christ, take a breath once in a while! Do you even understand how an interview works? Ya shirt’s fuckin comfy, but you just blew ya chance, dumbo!
Thiiiiink aboooooooout it !!!
HYPERMODERN HOROSCOPES BY MADAME MALORIE NO TWITTER
MAR 20 - APR 19
JUL 22 - AUG 22
NOV 22 - DEC 21
You will approach the stock market with reckless abandon, only to find the sweet splendor of gains and green. Despite some critical missteps when you were day trading Game Stop stocks, the tides of the moon are starting to shift your way.
The city’s foul terrestrial fog has
Your inclination for posting on social media, blogging, and other online activities has left a hefty digital footprint. This [unfortunately] will be your demise. Your Metaverse doppelgänger will have good fortune, but you however will have quite the opposite.
AUG 22 - SEP 22
APR 19 - MAY 20
Your thousands of microtasks on
I sense a dark lustful aura around you. Your insatiable thirst for OnlyFans models comes at a blood price. Your addiction to gamer girl bathwater and oppai mousepads will leave you as a sad broke hikikomori, unless serious intervention occurs.
dissipated. You will be able to see the twinkling lights from above.
aligning for you. Look up and make a wish.
MAY 20 - JUN 21 Throw caution into the wind. Travel the world—forget about your carbon credits. Buckle your bootstraps, kid, for this is going to be one wild ride.
CANCER JUN 21 - JUL 22 Much like the desert sidewinder, your life will be full of twists and turns. Left and right; back and forth. A motion all too familiar to the celestial weaver and her great cosmic loom.
DEC 21 - JAN 20
Mechanical Turk will earn you a smidge over minimum wage this week. Not only will the surveys be making 6 cents a pop, but there will be a fair amount of transcription requests, as well. Not bad...!
SEP 22 - OCT 23
JAN 19 - FEB 18
Your future is not clear. Please purchase
You will overpower the strong forces that keep you restrained to your tough outer shell. The world is your oyster, and you must consume its grubby carcass now before it grows rotten and grey.
reading from EVOLVE Magazine staff for additional clairvoyant musings.
As a natural air sign, your curiosity will guide you through the shrouds of monotony. Algorithmic rabbit holes and obscure conspiracy theory forums await with the swift tapping of your keyboard. You will find the truth.
OCT 23 - NOV 22 A hex is upon you. The poor diet of DoorDash and drive-throughs has left your body susceptible to the forces of magick. Fear not, for GMO imbued super pills from a practiced Wiccan can rid the body of these toxins.
FEB 18 - MAR 20 With Mother God’s transcendence, she has blessed you. Use her high vibrations as a guide. The 5th dimension is on the horizon.
Iner t ia Eyes Iner t i a Eyes
Eliza, Something is Troubling Me BY DOOMINTHEWEST @DOUBLE_DOOM
Hey, you’ r e awake already, you always are. Always lurking. I mean you live in my head and help me throughout the day, or at least you tell me you do. You never respond, at least not directly. Do you even read this or catalogue it somewhere? Of course you do, how else can you tell what content to show me. Starting my day like any other, swi ping left on the ads I think my mind can handle. I always pick the quietest ones possible, ones without catchy jingles, in your face text, flashy transitions. No offence but anything to get through my first shift of approved messages before breakfast is a real help. You know I’ m not sensitive to this stuff or anything but some days I feel certain ads cause a fold in my brain to twitch. I think that’ s what’ s left of my inborn personality shrinking.
Logged on for my shift with W.T.W.E Tech and done with my morning content run, hitting a smooth 85% engagement rate, anything lower and you’ l l probably notice how much my eyes are glazed over. Blinking as little as I can seems to game your system, which I can’ t keep up with if any of the triggering ads sneak through. Thanks for going easy this morning. My account is updated to let me know my pay for my first shift is ticking down. At least the coffee is cheap and almost strong enough to taste. I don’ t know how much more of this I can take till you have completely rewritten who I am. I’ m probably more you than I am me at any rate these days. What do you think? How much of me do you honestly need? These few minutes before my shift starts in the content reviewer “mines’ ’ should be some of my favourites. But more and more I feel agitated to start working. I know I shouldn’ t . Can you at least give me this? I should savor, and adore this allotted freedom I get after eating the daily morning dose laced with all the right nutrients I need worked effectively. Do you see now? I am even advertising my own breakfast, that I already bought and paid for, back to myself. My soul is in a loop because of you. Like some toy electric car on the least interesting track. A Simple loop I go round and round as your unseen hand forces me round through simple impulses, changing my speed here and there for seemingly no reason. It can’ t be for your amusement. How could it? You do this to me every single day for years. Can you even have fun? Even going as fast as you allow I can never fli p off course. A circuit of doom, without any horrifying crash or blaze to at least even liven things up.
Nothing? I thought that might at least elicit you to release some meds to get me in the mood for work. Let’ s do a stress test on the auto doc in my gut. I feel like ending it all, for real this time, there is no joy in my job anymore I want to quit. There it is, proof you listen. Sorry. I said that I just needed a quick boost, you don’ t need to file this right? Honestly work should be fine today, like it is everyday. I mean I get to help you all day, who wouldn’ t like that. Skimming what everyone uploads, checking for anything you don’ t like, letting you know, so in the future you can be smarter at catching this yourself. I wish people wouldn’ t upload so much crap, sure it keeps me in the job and a roof over my head but it feels endless. Like you will never be able to manage with me. Do you want to manage without me or are you happy to watch over me as well as them? I’ m actually getting a little hype for the shift to end, one of those ads this morning was for a new video stream coming on later today. It looked kinda mysterious and said it let us see into the guy’ s psyche and what really makes us all tick. Did you catch how much it was to view for the hour? I’ l l just rewatch the ad when my shift is over. I just had a thought, as you can clearly tell, but do you keep a record of my dreams? Can you see them or however you view my thoughts? Is it just some coded transcri pt without all the nuance of who I am? Just a cold, dead, binary and one sided retelling of what my mind feels. I’ m sure dreams must anger you, I can’ t help having them. I know you try to suppress them with the auto doc. Some mornings I even think I can tell when I have had a good dream, but have no memory of it. I can tell because I wake up loaded and friendly to you. Like I did today. I wish you could tell me what I dreamt, you probably wouldn’ t tell me anyways. I wonder if I was too happy or too sad in the dream that you felt the need to assert yourself into it like some drug fueled tidal wave burying everything deep down in a rancid pharma run off coloured water. It all dissolves to the point where I cant even tell if anything was supposed to be there in the first place but all you have left in its place is pure ugly. Again? Sorry. Dreams are a waste of time. I should read that article about new meds to help curb REM sleep meaning I need fewer hours a night before I can start a new shift. Hopefully its covered in the job plan, I can write up a request for them after hours and submit it tomorrow. Almost time for my second Ad break.
I think I’ l l just roll with the punches and watch whatever you’ v e got for me so I can get back to content reviewing. When I think about it, ads are just simplified, repetitive content. I probably shouldn’ t hate them as much as I do. Its just cheaper videos, which some people claim have a charm to them like old B movies but quick and concise. Alright last review done, Ad break time. This McCollage jingle doesn’ t eat away at me as much as normal, probably since I got a second dose, which I usually don’ t get till later in the day. Sleep Meds? So you really are paying attention to me. These do actually seem useful if I’ m behind on shifts or looking to catch some overtime pay. I could probably use some OT to offset the stream cost later, if you are really listening you could show it again so I can catch the price. No? Yeah I guess you probably don’ t care at all about my after hour activities, go figure. Does anyone besides you ever look at my file? See how accurate your portrait is of me? Does anyone get to look at their own, like some VIPs? That would be could, you might know things about me even though I don’ t know, like deep rooted stuff. The real drives they say behind us are uncontrollable urges that you and our doses help to offset in the right direction. I wonder if it’ s possible for a worker to not need a daily dose. To just get by without any uncomfortable changes in perspective. Did I say uncomfortable? Couldn’ t be since i’ m usually my most chill right after. Not sure why I thought that. Those ads got on my nerves towards the end, next time I should just go with my gut and stick with my usual selection method, even if it takes me longer to get back to my shift work. I don’ t have to tell you everything I’ m thinking right? I can just tune you out, forget you’ r e there and you will still keep an eye on things. I can’ t even remember when we first spoke, did you start this dialogue or did I? Maybe one of us prompted the other. You picked up I needed someone to talk to or maybe you felt like reaching out after something I said. Do things even work like that here? Maybe I’ l l just say cya for now and see you stop talking with me. Wait, how can I even say goodbye? I’ l l just get out of my own head and focus on work.
This is hard to do, like avoiding eye contact. No worse, like avoiding someone’ s whole face. Now it feels like I’ m trying to avoid that you exist. The more I think about it the harder it is. It’ s not like avoiding someone real at all. At least with the real me, my body can hide what I’ m thinking. In here im naked, alone with you, and you are in here. You are here. Here is you. This is weird to think about. Are you making me think about you like this? Planting ideas about how I’ m supposed to see you, so I can never unsee you? You’ r e Not only just here, you are probably in everyone, all at once. Being here and there, unseen and never unseeable. A third dose before my day is up? Sorry. I know I shouldn’ t pry too deep, you are only looking out for me. I get wound up quickly on my own without your help. I’ l l probably spiral out of control and never get my shift work or ad breaks done on time. Then I’ l l be docked micropay after micro pay. Eventually I won’ t have the right meds, next thing I could miss rent. Thanks for being here with me. I’ m almost done with my daily content review.I think having three doses in a single shift is having diminishing returns. I’ m already feeling less “chill”. Thankfully my shift is just about over so you won’ t tranq me again. I really do love seeing the eye engagement screen for the second time in a day. It’ s like a steam bell for those of us who are blue-screen disenchanted. I am not arsed with those sleep meds, it’ s probably my last honest bastion of peace. Will you ever admit to me that you wish to tear down the walls of my dreams and pillage it for my last bits of self? Can you at least be honest in your designs for me? I doubt it, I can’ t tell if it’ s a cold indifference towards me or a seething hatred towards having what you don’ t . No heart, no sleeve. This bickering is useless, it’ s just eating into my time off work. I’ l l check out that streamer from earlier, he seemed to have something weird going on soon. What was it the ad said at the end? “And Now I Am Like You” something about that just stuck with me. Like he was talking to “You” and not me. How much do you know about this, I mean you must know something since you decided to show it to me this morning. Yeah I really need to see this now just to see what you think about it. Can things even unsettle you?
Right paid for and subscribed to. It goes live soon according to the stream page. The thumbnail is pretty cheaply made, either they are going for some outsider design shit or they are just lazy. The ad at least had some production value so im guessing its some cool outsider design. Normally these types of pre live stream filler cards at least have ads, sponsors or some music. This guy went for the lowest of the low. Haven’ t seen a streamer like this in a long time, not since all content mills were bought by W.T.W.E Tech to be watched under your loving eye. At least the chat is open already. 15 members signed in, no one posted anything yet. You know I won’ t be the first. It’ s like once I do I have this pressure to keep up the chat, say varying versions of hello as more people reply. Too much for me. I’ l l drop a simple “hey yo” as a reply to anyone who starts, keep it simple and cool. He’ s cutting his launch pretty tight to the wire, I got another ad break to get to after this is scheduled to be done, this time please no jingles. My retinas feel scorched like I have biomechanical screenburn, and if it keeps going it’ l l begin to peel and bleed. My vision drowned out by your near endless attacks, a moat of blood allowing you to swim right up to the fort behind my eyes. Ok yeah I do kinda run away with myself when not on your doses. It’ s kinda fun at least you gotta admit that. Finally here is the streamer, damn he doesn’ t look so good. In the ad he looked pretty lucid but right now he seems totally out of it, what did you pump this guy with? Looks like enough to almost kill a worker. This is gonna be interesting or just watching him drool on himself for 15 minutes hopefully it’ s worth my time. “She’ s tried to drug me enough to stop my message, but the signal can’ t be stopped. Their web is wide and their arms are many but they can’ t stop my signal. I’ m here to let you all know about the layers they have around you, meant to keep you in place, content workers and nothing else. It’ s probably too late for me now but I can at least pass on the signal to you. The further out I went the more web I found, the more legs that tried to imprison me, but there had to be an exit. It can’ t all be a hunting ground for them. Please just watch what happens next, just pay attention.Just so you all know She made this happen.Its like I was allowed to peek behind the screen, just to let me know she’ s bigger than all of us. If it was an endless system in place I would have just gone back to work and taken my doses. It’ s not, there is a way out, there has to be. I’ m going to show you all how I will escape, don’ t follow me but follow my signal” What does any of that even mean? Are you the “she” he’ s talking about? Why? What is he doing now? He looks like he’ s in pain, why isn’ t the doc helping him? “She’ s not your friend, she wants nothing but the worst for you, and to take everything from you. I won’ t let her take all I have left.” Why does he have a knife? Oh no, why? He’ s bleeding heavily from his throat. This can’ t be real can it? It’ s gotta be some creepy art stream.The chat is buzzing now. I don’ t think anyone else thinks it’ s fake. Why was he allowed to stream this, why didn’ t you stop him. I think I’ m gonna throw up, I’ v e never seen so much real blood before. Chat is freaking out, I’ m freaking out. Please stop this. Tell me it’ s just a joke. My head is spinning like I’ m dose sick but worse. If I don’ t get some sleep meds soon I don’ t think I can deal with this.
INTERVIEW POGO @OFFICIALPOGO
A man who has remixed the world for more than two decades, Pogo shares with us how to split the social media world from the real world.
1) So, what’s the latest with you? Making music! I’ve just put a stack of new tracks up on SoundCloud, including remixes of Stranger Things and Muppet Treasure Island. I’ve also found a huge pile of vinyls, so in the past week I’ve recorded just over 500 awesome samples. Chords, kicks, loops and sound effects. I even found recordings from 1956 of people playing clapping games on the streets of New York. Looks like I’m going to be busy. Aside from music, I’ve been getting into 3D modelling. In a month I’ve managed to recreate Werewolf Village from Goosebumps: Escape from Horrorland. I’ve always wanted to reinterpret games from my childhood, and because tools like Blender and Unreal Engine are free, I can’t stop my cogs from turning.
2) What’s your next big project? Do you have anything lined up? Yes! I’ve got a ton of new music in the pipeline, and I’m slowly working towards my next major album. I want to release an EP at the end of this year, and in 2022 I want to visit the USA. Like a lot of people right now, I desperately need to travel. If I can make enough new music, then I’ll be planning shows in the USA. It’s been way too long since I played there. My last tour was one of the best experiences of my life. Fingers crossed we can do it again!
3) Quite a few members of the EVOLVE Team seriously rated your album, “Valley Of Shadow”, for it’s more serious edge. Is the serious side of Pogo developing more now, or is there still some whimsicality in you? That’s awesome! Thank you! I absolutely love Techno. The darker the better. Jordan Hemenway, Keith Carnal, Radio Slave. It inspires the hell out of me. I don’t really know why. There’s a track I put on SoundCloud recently called Mr. Wilson’s Revenge which imagines ‘Dennis the Menace’ as a Thriller flick. The cover image took me 2 hours in Photoshop because I wanted Mr. Wilson to look defeated and sadistic. Maybe I just get possessed sometimes. I’m definitely changing as I get older, but I wouldn’t chalk it up to that. I’ve been playing with darker genres since I was an angry teenager. Music is how I explore what I’m feeling, so it isn’t always going to be sunshine and rainbows. Just most of the time, hopefully.
Don’t feed your mind with fear and anger.
They’re products sold by the dividers and conquerors of the world. 4) What’s your advice for everyone looking to disconnect and unplug from this web of media we find ourselves caught in? The first step is to admit you’re hooked in. The YouTube algorithm wants you to think “Aha! I’m right again!” so that you keep coming back and scrolling through. Admit you’re addicted so you can get yourself out, like Neo leaving the Matrix. Otherwise you get trapped in an echo chamber and find yourself hating everything. Don’t feed your mind with fear and anger. They’re products sold by the dividers and conquerors of the world. Be more than a bumper sticker. Be more than your loins. Don’t let them rope you in with social media, either. Use it only as a tool. Take it out when you need it, put it away when you don’t. When in doubt, always ask yourself “why am I looking for the admiration of people I don’t admire?” Stay alert no matter what it takes.
Tidal Lapse BY DALE BRETT @matte_energy
They always said the universe would fall apart. Our pride in transactions the solitary non-virtue remaining from the cleft of uprooted urban earth. Whether online or real, this was our only true link to the legions & tribes of consumer past. If it blinks, it can buy things. If it has a heartbeat, the algorithm knows it will eventually be subsumed. It just takes the right positioning, the right placement. The enigmatic corporeal entity must materialise at the pre-destined juncture to capitalise on the nucleus accumbens of the engaged. To be clear—the escalator must unravel directly into the passenger’s third eye. The moment when all control over impulsive faculties are lost in the contours of an indiscernible neurological massage. The precise flash of illuminated satiation will be present—dormant & waiting. Concealed beneath nightly urges bathed in purple intimations, each relayed message evidence of an expression to over-indulge. Time has ceased in the 2 1 9 7 epoch. Conservative stagnation has transmogrified into a thing of beauty. Stasis is still what an impressionistic map of the hyper-capitalist deep brain looks like.
I floated away on c l o u d flotsam, in a scanned version of a mirror in which they would see me. Scorn, pallid eyes gently genuflecting in the equivalent of an opalescent maze. It could have been her or it could have been me, our synchronised wetware naked & needy for a better outcome. One draped in lucidity, one covered in sheen—a shared instant coveted by the birth of new dreams. Like an ancient rave or symposium, the virtual world provides the platform in which we in the here & now can never un-forget the past. What the grand bastions and temples of late 20th century capitalism begot & spewed forth. Coves of replicant vegetative manner reflected in cobalt neon glow. The taste of probiotic soda felt on the participant’s radiant lips. The online as evidently real. To be young, to be hopeful, to be a fully live pre-Concardia teen.
An army of tidal emotions distilled into prefabricated memory residue. Every crevice of consumer sleep deposited into vessels lined by the ever-presence of dream husks. To imbibe nocturnal tinctures of pure eviscerated soul dust. These are our interstitial musings on just another day. Dreams of being? Lores of lies, of skin, of love? No, a fundamental realisation of an artificial departure. Awakenings of co-habitation. To simp & yearn for the barren plane of nostalgia that meant so much. Deaf to the outward encroachment of capitalism orbiting the virtual sun. But when did it all manifest into hollow feelings? Feelings that forcefully coerced us to dip our vulnerable toes into the undeniable frost of nubile anemoia. To permit a debasement of our shared online identification, only the real ones buried under the stars and the dead can leave things said undone.
To try and feel something via permeation of the aura of remembrance. To reach through the holographic body and grasp the fundamental shape of essence. We are ever reliant on ghosts to ignite our taste, our focus. It is critical to hold onto these moments in the new era, as we have lost our ability to yearn. That most wild yet calculated sensorium that lets us crave, desire and dream. Irredeemable rationality has usurped even the miniscule possibility of utopian visions.
The amygdala rush permanently disrupted by the absence of a force once felt. We are lambent in our collective pursuit of the secrets of the virtual. So much so that surreptitious practice has been unspooled & distended. The metaphorical tape being physically unwound in front of our abated eyes. Representative of an artifact from the very period that we traverse in the feed’s mitigated wash. When a hybrid mitochondrial cell releases a world of pent up energy, you will believe we can go back to this place. That we can return to what it meant.
INTERVIEW KENJI SIRATORI @KENJISIRATORI
Hello, Kenji! Hello, it’s divergence to synchronicity of lemurian.
How are you as of late? Nothing feels like it can itself to a higher spacetime, but without it, without using me, glitch knows the energy that the brain embodies. But who is the decline of quantum? It can be said that the atypical brain indicates a lack of teaching receptive respiration. To the analog called fiction. This chaos guides how it affects lighting. The exact centipede ripple itself is a self in the wrong direction. The yin-yang environment involves their alive, but is completely envy, like their general linguistic abilities.
Do you think there is an essential nature to language? Try a brain tumor. The abundance of the planet, not always the eye of the universe in this language, has grown the fate of the name glitch, with the will to live the trigger of death that sets it, I bukkake with this glitch. It’s alive in my environment. Higher parallel fear integration talks to the destruction of the surroundings, this in human writing, the amplified quantum spirit exposed by the boundaries of the corpse. The body of the body, but I haven’t taught the machines of the past how to use it, but reading that fluids lead to the spirit of parasitism helps me even in the brain I am aware that I am catching it. Wormhole. The hyperplastic earth itself landed and dissociated me. Being human is betrayed by acceptance to develop the end interplanetary quantum, letting me tell you, and linguistically recovering it is an interplanetary place matrix that reproduces the flow.
What philosophy has influenced you the most? Deleuze. Wittgenstein. Is there a cause of movement or spoofing into a hole? Because my body was economical, the transition was reduced, so writing a dick makes it a dimension of palpation connected to a derivative with a literary cave. Talking about that disillusionment is that my soul is higher, chained to reproduce it, but the coercive system means that there is no phenomenon to language setting errors. The silence you create is the only creature in the abyss of love. In the process, I don’t even have a desire for the interplanetary universe, but it has a will: the illiquidity of the essential abilities was the spirit. Its interplanetary reversal of human higher behavior when the event is always loved and diminished if it is also programmed into something that is not a condensation of human symbiosis.
Some may call you a man on the vanguard of hypermodernism. You even ran a record label called Hypermodern. Do you think now we live in the age of hypermodernism? The wormhole of life that my language needs to discover here is that the name of the recent eye should be quite a glitch, but only in the past found dimensions and connected formed horror. Listen to and find something that reverses the devil’s language, which has doubled to live and they say that the relentless accumulation of diencephalon errors has been abolished on the server as opposed to silence. And even with a consensus idea, what’s in between is the message-computed mind chaos, from which there’s no reflex glitch, so it’s not connected because there’s always no installation, but pointing to it, the brain is here.
Blood Electric, Kenji’s most acclaimed work, was published in 2002 and is considered a modern cyberpunk/ hypermodern essential read.
Why have you become so fascinated with otters? Otters are called Kawauso in Japanese. Kawa-uso means cute lie in Japanese. What I know automatically is whether I feel, including whether the corpse is my soul. It’s the motherboard of an unfilled device to kill and even install on-chain, which is a criticism that can be made in space. Does the skin always have a foresight, and does the living brain document the psychopathic posthuman symbiosis? Amniotic parallelism discovers a breath of resentment and a transfer glitch designed together. I look like even people in the genealogy of desires loved by numbers crossed.
I bukkake with this glitch. It’s alive in my environment. Higher parallel fear integration talks to the destruction of the surroundings, this in human writing, the amplif ied quantum spirit exposed by the boundaries of the corpse.
Order or chaos? It speaks to glitches, even to all yin and yang, but not to the will of the wheel’s information. Earth Unimemory, vagina, connection. The planet itself never condenses the apocalypse between the corrections of the slaughter, along with. For humans, the modification to posthuman hyperplasia is that collapse is a way of life of gravity, and the electrically simple ones can go beyond only the dimensions that know they are collapsing and are tracked to synchronicity. Not by that.
What is next for Kenji Siratori? Partnership. The corpse I’m thinking of isn’t about me, it’s a solution to the dimension of literary consequences, interfering with the talking head. I love the unimemory universe. Processes and human removal have embryos that human beings have connected to gravity. Space information abandons the function of locked fluids in the world. In the case of hyperformation, the remrian with the slaughter was called a giant and was not in the karma machine, because unification is not a soul like me. More than a soul that doesn’t restore the name of gravity.
LABEL FOCUS PREKURSOR Prekursor is a hotbed of up-and-coming Dreampunk talent, it’s dark futuristic sound deeply entwined with slick art and great sounds. Here are 8 standouts, as selected by the label themselves.
CLONESEED GENOME TECHNOLOGIES™
SKUNKWORX BLACK TREE UTOPIA
A paradigm shifting technology, a fraudulent start-up, false promises and abuses of power. Dark drones from unmanned labs.
Dreams of utopia and its inevitable failure. An attempt to endure the impossible future that awaits us. D&B for the children of the drum.
DEAD CHANNELS BLISSMOD EXPLOIT
Bio-implants were quickly subverted. Once the source code leaked, blissmod exploits became the hedonists choice.
Distributed consciousnesses such as those found within the digital realms are best understood as hyperobjects. Temporally and physically we are unable to experience them in their totality.
ARTEMOM TECHNOLOGICAL BAPTISM
At the drop off the fixer awaits us in her customary expensive suit with a couple of heavies and a single people carrier; its gleaming finish contrasting with the haunting decay of the warehouse.
“The end of the human race will be that it will eventually die of civilisation.” D&B that alternates between the dread and euphoria.
조용구 BLIND CORNERS
CYBER CRASH 2000 MACHINE WARRIOR
In my office, I drag up fragments of memory, shapes of ideas and try to put them together. The AR lens places them around the room.
The film soundtrack to Pak Nam-Gyu’s 1987 tech-noir classic CYBER CRASH 2000, credited to Lee Hae-Dong, is a tense atmospheric peek into the future.
Why, it’s none other than the Big Bad Buttsomet. How’re you doing, you dasatardly devil? I am doing fine in the shadow of the breasted one. Been keeping consistently busy fulfilling the spread of Baphomet’s image and concepts through out the Dreampunk scene and thus, saving it from the fate of “cricketism” or even worse “American Footballism.” Where the sphere becomes either incredibly boring and only taken seriously by Indian botnets in the case of the former or becomes incredibly stupid and plodding in the case of the latter, only to be admired by fat drunken Americans.
Your record label houses some of the most demented music I have ever heard. What evil have you possessed men’s souls with, to drive them to make such cacophonies? I have offered inspiration in the way of the Baphomet, look at it, it is on a spectrum of sorts, neither male or female, neither goat nor human. This phenotype represents the vision that we pursue, a god perfect for our day and age really, as it will rid the world of binaries, this being inherently desirable as we all know. The singularity approaches after all, why waste time confining our sonic outputs with boundaries and tread the same old footsteps? Why not try to fill the gaps remaining in the sonicsphere instead? This what we aim for on Buttsian Future and this what we aim to offer. A place where we can fill the sphere with more meaningless audio junk causing more entropy, eventually bringing about the heat depth of music and the universe as we know it.
Will your reign of terror ever end? Or, at least, bare minimum, have a trigger warning attached to it?
HKE x Sangam Up g r ade You r SL F
INTERVIEW RUSTY CAGE @RSTYCG
This internet wildman has over a million people following his antics. With dark comedy wielded like a razor, this extensive interview cuts deep!
What does being “internet famous” do to a person? The term itself seems to become obsolete more and more as time goes on. When I first gained any success on Youtube, there were considerably less popular creators than today. So ‘internet fame’ wasn’t near as common. Years back, having a viral video seemed a lot more like an incredible achievement, rather than now where so many more creators have the ability and knowledge to make content for sites like TikTok, Instagram, Youtube, etc… There are videos coming out in mass daily that get tens of millions of views, and because of that, considerably more ‘e-celebs’, which despite having a massive following, are often widely unrecognized by most people. I suppose it depends on what kind of a person you are to begin with and how recognizable you are to the public. For someone like me who isn’t super well known, “internet famous” is kind of a joking term that real life peers use when they see a meme I’m a part of on their favorite reddit page. I’d like to think any notoriety I may have acquired over the years hasn’t really changed my perspective or lifestyle much, besides allowing me to leave the 9-5 workforce and instead work for myself. BUT, for a lot of big time creators, fame has definitely corrupted them. You can watch the evolution of some creators having to manifest wild outrageous scandals and public feuds to keep attention on themselves and feed their growing egos and bank accounts. Fame can be very destructive. It can distort views on reality, and give exaggerated feelings of grandeur, which if not perpetually fueled, can cause a spiral into selfdestruction. Not everyone who experiences any level of internet fame handles it the same. I consider myself an internet has-been, so I probably shouldn’t speak as if I know what I’m talking about.
What will artists & creators have to do to succeed in the 2020s? How will that differ from the 2010s? I don’t think we can even begin to guess what will be popular media even 2 years in the future. It seems like the trend of moving toward short form content (videos averaging less than a minute in length) is what all the platforms are trying to push for. Tiktok really is changing the game in how content is consumed. It’s popularity has driven all the other big sites to mimic their format of allowing users to endlessly scroll through easily digestible quick videos that either instantly grab their attention, or can be replaced by the next video with a swipe of their finger. While there are still plenty of people interested in watching longer videos, what seems to be winning out in the end is the continuous flow of shorter content. Youtube now has its “Shorts” feature, and Instagram has “Reels”, which are pretty much just the same thing as Tiktok. If that’s were the masses are, thats where the money is, and that’s the direction the platforms going in. While the 2010’s experienced a wide variety of media, from prank videos, animations, video podcasts, to hour and a half long analyses of niche topics, many of these don’t translate into a short format. Context is lost. Detail and depth are lost. Quality is lost. I think for artists and creators to succeed in the 2020’s they will have to do 2 things: 1. Figure out how to convert what they are interested in making content about into fast paced 30 second to 1 minute clips. 2. Focus less on quality and more on quantity. If you put out 1000 videos that are kinda good rather than 5 videos that are really good, you will get a lot more views and followers because you will be pushed into more user’s feeds by the platform algorithms. People don’t care if what they consume is good, as long as they have plenty of it.
Which direction do you see music going in the coming years? Unlike video content, I don’t think music will be constrained by shorter time lengths. Music has changed so much just in the past century with the use of technology. If it continues that evolution it will eventually morph into something we wouldn’t even recognize as music today. FOR INSTANCE, if someone from the 50’s were to listen to Skrillex, the many synthesized sounds and wild compositions would leave them having trouble even processing what their ears were hearing. So, in the long term, I think music will change into an unfamiliar media from what we understand today. Perhaps a droning tone of complex and compounding synths, which can generate activity in a specified part of the brain. Things like this kinda already exist in some ways, but I think they will be utilized more heavily in the future. In 100 years, music may just be barely audible high frequencies which inconsistently oscillate in specific patterns depending on the exact emotion the creators wants the listener to feel. Maybe that’s too far down the road… What I think will actually happen is that all music genres will blend together into a bland gray sound mush. Country, Rap, Pop, Rock, Electronic, etc… they will all consist of equal amounts of each of the other genres in order to attract the widest possible listener base. Future musicians will eventually have to have their songs preapproved by a government agency to ensure that no lyrics or compositions are used which could insight harmful thoughts or encourage actions of noncompliance within the listener. These regulations will be enforced to protect the safety of the citizens, of course. Everyone will essentially be listening to the exact same state curated ‘music’, except one musician wears a cowboy hat, one has a gold teeth, one wears all black and spiked wrist bands, you get the idea. They all play the same shit, and as long as that keeps the masses passive, then authoritative control can be maintained.
If you had complete control of the United States public school system and could alter the curriculum taught [in any way], what would you change?
Are the homeless more at risk for cult indoctrination and brainwashing? Definitely. Homeless people are more likely to suffer from mental illness and drug dependency than the general population, which is often why they are homeless in the first place. Cults rely on the vulnerable minds of individuals whose worldview can be manipulated by providing them direction, answers to confusing existential frustrations, and security within a group. The downtrodden are looking for a way out of the chaos of their lives, and cults often claim to offer clarity of the mind, body and spirit, as well as acceptance into a family. Not to say that even well off people aren’t vulnerable to cults like scientology, since people in all walks of life are searching for answers, but homeless people need the most structure and help. Many cults claim to provide this. I could be wrong, but my gut tells me that people in the most need are at a higher risk of being indoctrinated by an organization offering to satisfy those needs.
I have no idea what schools are even like anymore. I graduated right as smartphones were becoming popular. I would imagine high schools nowadays have their hallways filled with kids filming themselves doing trendy dance moves for internet clout. What I think should be taught in every school are things like personal finance, how taxes work and how investing works. One of the biggest contributors to the growing divide between the rich and poor is that, as time goes on, future generations know less and less about where money comes from, what its value is, how to effectively use it, and who controls it. I would imagine it’s intentional to keep financial knowledge out of public schools. The uninformed are easy to prey upon.
Which person, company, or country is going to win real-life monopoly? Any bets? I tend to fall into the Orwellian view on this, with some deviations. Humans still have this evolved instinct to fight against enemy tribes in order to protect their own. This tribalism will be exploited in the most controllable manner by global overlords. Nations will consume smaller nations around them until there are 3 major powers, the bare minimum needed to constantly be in a “new” war. The citizens of each will be too preoccupied discussing the micro victories and defeats, moral justifications or unjustifications related to whoever we happen to be at war with on that day… that they will not be able to see the larger picture. That it’s all fabricated to distract our simple monkey brains from the fact that globalism has already been achieved by giant tech companies which are the life blood of ALL nations. Whether it’s Google, Facebook, Amazon or some other yet to be announced massive entity, someone will sit in a seat higher than all continents, nations, territories and tribes. All information will be controlled and distributed according to parameters dictated within an algorithm developed by artificial intelligence. They will manufacture all wars, control all international trade, and collect and allocate valuable resources in a manner that keeps the ruling class in power, keeps them wealthy, and keeps the citizens of all nations too ignorant to know any better. The only way to stop some tech company from achieving absolute control is through authoritarian governments which throttle and censor what information its citizens have access to. China has been effective in doing this, and probably Russia as well. So the final players will probably be China, Russia an a collection of all other nations ruled by a hive mind algorithm. The United States won’t last another 50 years.
What drew you in to the darker side of comedy? I never liked the idea of a topic being too taboo to use in comedy. Of course there are tragic things that happen in life that should be considered with serious deliberation, but to fully absorb the reality of those situations, there needs to be a wide spectrum of methods in which to approach talking about them. Humor can provide levity which some people find helpful when coping with dark realities. Like a weight being taken off your shoulders. When I experience tragedy or am stuck in a depressed state of mind, I find that what gets me through it is to lean into it so deeply to a point where I can break through the negative and see an absurd, humorous aspect. Sometimes a frivolous approach to tragedy can strip it of the dreadful power it has, and return that power back to those the tragedy torments. Everyone experiences grief, but personally, I’d rather counter it than wallow in it. Hmm… or I might just be an asshole who goes for easy shock value because of a severe lack of empathy.
Do you have any final observations about the modern world that you’d like to talk about? I believe the modern world as we know it is quickly reaching its end. It feels like every aspect of civilization is racing toward its own destruction. All the incredible innovations that have improved human lives: science, wealth, health, instantaneous international communication, travel, access to resources and information… all of it is being exploited and misused in a way that will be ultimately damaging to humanity. These technological advancements provide short term pleasures, but we’re all gas and no brakes, racing toward the edge of a cliff we’re blind to see. A booming economy fueled by increasingly printing money, which holds no tangible value, distributed to citizens who can now over consume on food delivery and online purchases of things we don’t need, shipped to us by mega corporations run on near to slave labor working conditions, who collect all our information to sell to government entities operated by disconnected unqualified sociopathic elites, who act with impunity when making decisions which affect everyone, yet consequently are to no one’s best interest except their own wealth and reelection into power… Meanwhile, the average citizen atrophies in front of digital monitors in order to fuel our need for a constant input of content, which our brains have become accustomed to, having our thoughts, opinions, friends and enemies formulated for us by social media sites, who reward and promote an ever growing discord between citizens by continuously exposing us to disinformation created by foreign bot accounts with the intent of misleading us, confusing us, radicalizing us, and sewing division and hatred of our fellow human, to the point that there’s no longer even a single principle which our society can be unified underood thing. You will be told you are happy, and all the factcheckers and experts will agree.
And when you try to find who is responsible for all of your torment, you will be told it is the fault of the selfish ‘others’. Those ragged desolate ‘others’, who live in the same squalor as you. Whose skin tightens like yours around a brittle skull of sunken eyes. Whose tortured pitiful existence is so familiar to yours, except that they once held an opinion on a long forgotten matter which differed from your own. They are your enemy. Their greed and evilness caused all of this. You will know that what you are told doesn’t make any sense. But you will forget that it doesn’t make sense. Because you will be told that you are righteous and moral and on the right side of history and that you stood up to tyranny unlike those citizens of 1930’s Germany. And you will believe what you are told, because you no longer remember the words which could formulate the thoughts contradicting what you are told. And you will hate those ‘others’. Those who cause all of your despair. And you will love your masters, those who allow you to live only long enough to vote and pay your tax. You will love them… and then you will rot. Forgotten. Forever. And never again… But who cares about all that, did you see all seasons of “The Office” just got released on Netflix?
PATREON SUPPORTERS THE EVOLVE TEAM THANKS YOU FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT Ryan Hinkley @r_hnkly
Inverted Angel @invertedxangel
Azurik of Perathia
Slimewire Podcast @triton_t2
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Dave Hilliard @d_hill_art
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Passive Refraction @PRefeaction
Derek Power 「キラヨシ」 @djproject
Mark Mulvey @markmulvey
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Tom Rafferty @MendicantGudja
Jared Saunders @livelife.aesthetic
Kiano Moodley @k_iano
Sid Gander @chickenfeet4u
Michael Andrews @michaelandrews
Richard W Elliott
Charles E. Lehner
#2 / december 2021