Ursula’s Cartridges. The name sounds more like an anime than a musical project; the sounds couldn’t be more inspired by anime, too. RE: the first track, m a l i b u c o l a drops us into a world of cocktails on the penthouse balcony. Other worlds follow, each track a part of the blueprint of a Tokyo or a London or a Rome or another planet with much larger cities on it, the kind that make ours look like hamlets. Notice the textual ambience that greets us when we look at the song titles: Japanese, English made up of symbols, a smiley face at the end of a song title, the name of an mkv file; all of this suggests that the logic of this music isn’t human, but robotic, or half-human, half-robot. We’ve got Japanese and English and the blending thereof: a trope of vaporwave, a consummate signifier.
There’s more: lonely pianos, the first few pages of a mystery novel, bodies entering hospital rooms, a naked woman entering a hot bath tub, doctors performing surgery behind closed doors, a gun, two guns, three guns, a zombie apocalypse, out of nowhere, but here, now, getting our romance on despite it all, the zombies out there, and us, on a bed, kissing, as a mosquito watches us make love from the ceiling, wanting it.
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