What dancehall can do that it didn’t know it could do: Patterns
But then another thing things itself into the sound, it clings there,
Hanging, like sweatpants on a clothesline.
Elsewhere, five hours upriver on the border near the moon, in
Brooklyn, NY, this Saturday, May 14th, you should
Go out and see Wildlife! perform a sound installation at 260 Johnson Avenue.
Yes, yes,
Yes, yes,
Yes.
Elsewhere on Patterns the ghosts of Jamaica and
London come out to play in the deserted streets, weaving
Their way around an empty city.
Sounds from buildings in other neighborhoods
Navigate a crooked path towards our ears.
Then the feet start wiggling. Then the thighs. The hips.
Suddenly, you’re all arms, gyrating.
They call this dance the Alien Rain Dance.
Here, yes, the dancefloor, the street as dancefloor,
The bedroom as dancefloor, the basement as
Dancefloor, the barn as dancefloor, the restaurant
As dancefloor, the rooftop as dancefloor.
No time for existentialisms:
It might look like a warzone out there, but the death
Of fear on The Earth’s Dancefloor means
The death of static non-embodiment and
The death of static non-embodiment means the
Beginning of the other self in yourself, yourself + 1,
Or 1 + 1 = 2, or more than 2 sometimes. (RE: tfw
“You’ve changed” is a positive thing you actually want to hear.)
Meanwhile, DJs DJ.
Sci-fi writers write sci-fi.
SoundCloud artists post new music they’re making on SoundCloud.
In all of this, a beat, a pidgin, a nonstandard.
Digression and comedy, perhaps from an off-kilter intellectualism.
Perhaps an off-kilter sound event in an artistic part of the depths.
An off-kilter abyss.
And an event that marks the pronunciation of it all.