The championship banners from the old schoolhouse of Scopitones have been shredded by the blade of a pre-programmed vintage beat.
The players are cloaked and their backs are turned away from the camera. They are walking away from the bandstand, heading towards the old bath room, under the old dark chocolate orange lighting.
The players are generating schoolhouse blues with width of seismic chords traveling out from amps. The amps are tumbling down steel stairs - followed by planks of wood. At the foot of the stairs, the planks land hard and split then spit out termite fossils - the etymology of entomology.
It makes for a puzzling Scopitone. The players are too far down the hall, behind digital distortion and shrieks, to provide any explicit action. The eyes try to follow the path of the small moving dark spots down the hall behind a twittering signal, but the score ends before composition. A strange taste of vintage filed down on the edges and volumized.
• France Sauvage: http://francesauvage.blogspot.com
• Galerie Pache: http://galeriepache.org
