The human body is so amazing. Just think, right around the corner from the ——- rests the ——-, waiting for your arrival. You know an encounter with the ——- is inevitable. Nonetheless, you stall. You loiter around the pool hall, long after you’ve finished your beer. The keep is giving you looks. You roll the cue ball around the table. You are out of quarters. And you hear the ——- breathing heavy and hot, and you dread going around that corner. The keep looks as though he is going to make a move at you, and he does: he lunges. Sticks and bottles clatter on the concrete.
Liquid glugs out of the bottles, sliding down the chute, landing in the folds of a paper airplane. Once the paper is soggy enough, it will give, and the liquid falls onto a white cornette. Cornette is tipped like a cowboy-tipped Stetson, and, boy howdy, the liquid’s journey has just begun. I admire its perseverance, I really do. Most contenders would have thrown in the towel by now. Getting handled by machines getting handled by hands; it gets to be too much, little to no variation. Maybe a co-worker slips in a dirty joke, maybe the machinery crashes and needs a reboot. Maybe.
What most certainly happens is not exceptional. Chute to cornette to sponge to furnace to clouds to Chihuahua to lodgings to Vauxhall upholstery to ‘beating at it with only a rubber hammer’ to ——-. Rarely is there dance music made that has any feel of ownership or personality. “Ma Chi No Go Mi” is the exception,, the dirty joke on the assembly line,, the clattering of a one-of-a-kind scuffle.
It is this mousetrappian model that gives ‘em the answer to urban manufacture. For solutions—look no further than the human body! Of course. The body is the mirror to invention.
• 食品まつり a.k.a foodman: https://soundcloud.com/shokuhin-maturi
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